We’re here, but you’re not listening. You, the self-appointed, peer-appointed pukes whose voluminous barf gets washed by white gloved bankers. The barf accumulated in the trade of the diminutive. Little people. Little. People. We scream. We cry. And I, like a good little gadfly, tell…

Season Of The Stupid 1/2 marathon poem #7 Did they fall from the skies Or grow from the ground Seeded in ignorance Is where they are found Did they fall from the trees And dig in their roots Nourished in bullshit With bitter fruits Harvested…

Prompt 7, Hour 7 Write a poem titled Season of the (fill in the blank). The fill in the blank could be a reference, it could be an actual season, it could be something abstract, or concrete, anything you want. The key is to write…

When her friends stopped visiting,     When her family stopped calling.    When he went inside another woman— and she was still breastfeeding his baby.      When a wild dog kept breaking into the yard, stiff and growling,                                                                but no one came to help.   When the…

Hour 7 prompt: Write a poem titled Season of the (fill in the blank). Write a poem that matches or interacts with the title.

Dry flows need pumps digging deep to pools of untapped resources traveling tunnels of pressured air creating unproductive barriers teased with remote promise opening up abundant flows

Wicked muse, fair-weather friend, I can’t talk to you tonight; The sounds of raindrops descend Like soft breeze on a dim light. An everyday has mussed my face, Shall I get up to brush my teeth? You tempt me with an odd verse And not…

Inspired by: ‘The middle of night interlude where dreams may or may not happen.’ Moonlight shines on the back of her neck suggesting muted colours, light textures a flowing arc I am intrigued, enchanted but keep a respectful distance This moment is a haven I…

~ D², @d2poetry Can I get lost- in you? Can I enter inside every motivation that led to your creation while my existence forgotten? Can I absorb every detail that fleshes out the outlines tracing your beginning to end? Can I swim in the rhythm…

Rain melts the twilight sky as cresting waves pound the shoreline. Wind lift me up, let me swim in the Milky Way – its raspberry sweetness on my tongue, as dreams pass this dreamer by. I caress the stars above, kiss the moon with tender lips,…