Poetry

L'Appel Du Vide

published on
reading time 1 minutes
I shall¬†jump¬†out¬†the¬†window¬†Triumphant¬†and bold, my¬†final task¬†To why¬†I¬†do, I’ll tell you¬†-¬†I’m sick But¬†more,¬†I¬†beg you, do not¬†ask This life was long¬†and¬†death will give¬†rest When I lie in¬†the¬†earth,¬†at last I’ll belong¬†I’ll rot to the¬†bone in¬†the womb¬†of all life And hum to the tune of her¬†motherly song I’ll be in the air, all around, everywhere¬†I’ll come back as¬†the soil, compressed into¬†oil
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Tin-Can Forest

published on
reading time 1 minutes
The forest in a tin can Is not much worth to the city man All he prays for is booze and green paper But when the draft runs dry And thoughts of “why?” Like grief, in the night, come knocking He wishes for no more than death He knows that‚Äôs all he‚Äôs sure to get From above he looks on down To the metal maze below Soon, like deflated spiders
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