Member since December 7, 2016 | 692 Readings |
Cincinnati, Ohio native - They say journalism is dying and poetry’s already dead. I suppose that makes me a resurrector.
Contain, / Contain / You-see-through-glass / Bring the water to my lips again // The molecules are more focused in the glass / Than they are in…
It’s a different hustle in the winter
Sunset - / the little ghetto market, / westside parkway // / An early start / Set up shop so to speak / Greet more folks than the mayor // …
50 Questions to Ask God this Holiday Season
Hows come we can’t see you? / How many bulbs have broken when idiots put up Christmas lights? / Why don’t people use their fucking turn signal? …
I don’t like to kill / Even the small things / Even the littlest ones / I feel it too hard / I stand over them in their death / And whisper about…
In the garden of life
In the garden of life, / with its flowers and wonders aplenty - / Some days you just pull out weeds.
When all the black mirrors light up
My eyes are polyamorous, lingering and twisting, / playing tricks on my Sunday School heart / They feed my brain the food it wants but doesn’t need…
The work of the self-titled-modern-masters / Is lost on me / Luckily, it’s lost on everyone else // Unfortunate, really / Poetry was the voice of…
Because Lust Always Takes The Form Of A Man
The warrior will die one thousand deaths / Just to die one thousand more / For the cause that began as breath / For the cause that was born / I…
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Subscribed by Tyler Strittmatter
Apology for Apologetics
I apologize for apologetics / Those who listen, I hope you get it / There was a time when I was deeply fearful / Fearful my faith would falter /…
I’ve burned the bridge to a broken city / Made sure to record their narrative in notebook / So I could share their stories with strangers / Heck,…
She’s too good to be puffing away on those cigarettes the way she does // Please understand her desperate need for // a temporary relief // a…
I like the blue cold gelcaps, / Blue as an ocean, / If an ocean could be combed clean, / Fat as a beluga whale, no waist, / Nothin’, just a shape…
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