Short Mania!

The love inside of the ballooon:

This is a short story about one large balloon filled with love that a small child let go of. And how it kept floating up, up, up into the air and everyone panicked for the child, for the balloon and for the love inside of the balloon. The child cried. But no one could bring it back down from the sky; it continued to float away, further and farther, higher up in to the atmosphere, escaping in to space, where it eventually popped.

Notes of a Juvenile Delinquent:

This is an attack on straight lines. This, this constant breathing called poem has more to offer life than burning over a hot paper to find the right poking words to pierce the skin of a robot with. Why, dear and most esteemed ego dweller, do you write?

I see and you must have seen the endless shelves of trees pointing to the stars. Yes, I see it in your eyes. Inside your head the juice of passion pours from your thigh.

Nothing need be more perfect
than movement, and action.

Why scribble you dribbling bibil of babel! Perfection is obsessive. You have never dared to push a statue. I am sickened by you - poets -weak, permanent: There is one every moment. The poet is the gut of the street, where the leaves cover the drain. The poet is still asleep in the Mothers arms. The poet is of perversion.

You! Middle men and women sitting in the idle chair
Of plastic typing with ten tiny arrogant fingers of rhetoric
If you feel so much, if you deign to know so much, if you care

And in doing be done

No more
More no
sitting with a hand grenade mind
stroking its potential beauty
making it seem
like a Poetic-family
of words so professionally placed
of human writes!

Like a knife and a fork
Eat yourself poets.
Bleeding hearts!

You are only greedy
in the spiders web of your own ideas…

You have forgotten
the small

Be it on you head the hanging rope!

Elder of Free Association:

The roof of my mouth is burnt civilised people should not kill each other, whatever reason declares, I love chicken and lemon, I love lemon chicken, what I love is of no consequence, is this some sign of weakness…?..who wanted a bomb, blood is so easy to spill but red onion is much tastier. Women love and Men too. O, it’s strange that no Messiah loves without sweet and sour. Love is dangerous, laughs angry fists and gargantuan bombs and swarms, swarms of armies!! Love is a lunatic, stark raving mad through the chaos. Finally love makes a feast!

p.s in bed by close of day


I like it. Keep posting, I want to read more of your work.

I like it. Keep posting, I want to read more of your work.

Thank you Cait Lin! Glad you liked it…I post some other stuff soon!

yet, where would you be
without the poet’s glee.

stop fucking me with your words,
i have but words to send back –
and in the end, both, are fucked

you silly poet, i know your ways!

,the, white, drops,
,the, tiny, incy, ,wincy, pinkey,
,drops, are, frozen,
,in, cold, chilly, ,mumzy, wumzy,
,tumzy, ballons, ,floating, as, spys, ,who, gaze,
on, ,ice, cream, cones, ,in, jelly, jars,
,and, belly, jeans, ,in, crystal, lairs, ,where, ice,queens,
,melt, and, little, ,boys, deal, in, ,crystal,change, ,on, monkey,bars,
,in, hard,top, cars, ,where, soft,rock, ,dwells, and, jazz, ,excells, with, ,night,club,blues, ,and, soft, heart, ,coups, to, milky, ,ways,
a, million, ,miles, away, in, far, of, lands,
,with, cooler, ,bands, and, faster, ,cars, rounder, squares,
,and, fatter, chairs, ,happier,
faces, ,and, more, colorful,
,places, blue, and,
,orange, violet,
too, ,yellow, daisies, and,
,purple,hazies, wonderful,
,with, rosey,
toes, ,and, backward, bows,
,and, cherry, treats, ,on, soft,
knock, ,lands, in, candy,
,caves, with, merry, ,tops,
and, hand, ,held, games,

,thats, right, i’ll, fuck,
,and, i’ll, fly,
as, i, merry, well, please,
,and, merry, well, should

,simply, to, say, i, could,