Browse Poems
WARNING! Some poems contain explicit language.
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If I were an artist
I’d bathe myself in color
And allow my art to consume me
I’d wash myself with charcoal
11 years 6 months ago
I once believed graves beautiful,
Magnificent scrawls repeating life after death.
11 years 6 months ago
Nautical graves and practical poets,
Woman's condition and cultural woe.
Heaving sensations accompany the telly.
11 years 6 months ago
The creaking of an attic’s chest
which contains the stories of a previous life
hidden as dusty almanacs.
11 years 6 months ago
A little angel
Barely two months old
Stripped of his life
He was far too young
11 years 6 months ago
The road became smooth carrying you through the days. The path never veered.
11 years 6 months ago
Bloodstains that don't wash away
Bullet casings fall like rain
Tears enough for a lifetime long
11 years 6 months ago
It feels like I'm chasing my own shadow,
Never quite catching the phantom.
Walking, Running, Sprinting.
11 years 6 months ago
Squalls send seagulls flapping away,
billowing Nimbus bides his war
‘til darkness. Throaty caws
11 years 6 months ago