I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Slide into the womb of a huge robot Wonder what kind of sadist plugs your ears And then, when you are supine, frozen, caught
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Do not fear the dwindling light; the night In autumn is no ordinary dark From pain and sorrow it grants a respite As we approach the fixed, unmoving mark
To read is to think With the mind of another; It can be awful
We obey small fiends For we fear their sadistic Mischievous revenge
A definition Of ruthless exploitation Hides in your soft yawn
Gaze at this hot, onyx pool, complimented by cumulonimbus cotton Permit yourself to be seduced by an ironic aroma that simultaneously soothes and galvanizes
Don’t mistake solitude for loneliness The former is a crisp garment, chosen The latter a way you're obliged to dress Solitude runs clean; lonely is frozen
Imitate the leaves Make an orange somersault Your beautiful death
Garlic is the only author among vegetables--listen to its fresh pages turning Your nose is studying the history of guileless, peasant genius
The night is a bustling, hip café We haven’t the pull to be admitted The luminous windows tempt and betray Their warm allure is counterfeited
Fame, power and wealth Like seawater, increase thirst As we drink them in
A mute, condemning judge is the blank page Mocking pride and confidence, wordlessly Its stark stare causes every youth to age
