Tag: Poetry
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My muse has gone on holiday and there are no signs of returning any time this month. So, I guess I’ll just wait then. How is your week going? Anyone else stuck in a spinning circle like I am?
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I have a strange love for untied shoelaces, and old maps. Chipping paint and disasters begging to happen. Ponds believed to be oceans and gnarled, twisting trees that could tell tales a thousand years long. I have a strange love for childhood scars and ink stained hands. bumps on noses, faces with ancestry and lines…
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Anyone else feels like the human race is of late becoming a supernova of crap? A shit show if you will. Or maybe that’s just me. Anyway, ignoring the pathetic state of the world, I was going through the lists of things I needed to do before the end of this week (along with occasional…
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I can fold, enter the rabbit hole of words, books, stories. Disappear for a time, Emerge alive…. ….Rip words off the tattered pages, Splatter them on spotless parchment, What’s left, The dregs; Are me. Parts and bits, Of me.