Scribbles 'n Bits

Category: Poetry

The poetic expression of my artistic and aesthetic pillars along with some choice mixed-media.

  • Fevers and Chills

    Fevers and Chills

    With black tendrils
she sways,
down her forehead
and brushed back
with toned, olive polish.
Her clothes fall freely
with her legs,
her breasts,
her feet bare
when she can 
help it. 
Subtly, into back
she fades - 
no, 
like the backdrop 
walks with her.

  • h i h

    Now and then?  
More like: 

all the time,

everywhere,

all at once. 

That sounds like
the most British thing 
I've heard.
The only thing, 
honest, 
and you should be
honest.
 
Tell me how to get
there
and I swear to you,
by sould,
by blood,
by iron,
we leave. 

Well, did you find
a bowl or not?
Have you lost your mind?
Your head sloshes
full of soup.
Consider that,
your eye 
half eaten by the falcon,
Horus.  
Maggots wriggling about
the lens - 
have you no shame? 
Nothing to see here,
not since I lost my eye,
after all.

  • Cheap talk

    What does that even mean?
You cannot have your cake
and have it eaten too. 
It takes two to tango, 
honey,
and talk is cheap. 
So, I speak by the hour,
and pass collection 
when the hook penetrates
your soft, upper palate.

  • Stains

    Trigger warning – violence, graphic depiction: please read with your own safety in mind.

    Pages: 1 2

  • While In

    Subverting patience
one expectation at a time.
I like to weaponize 
existentialism - 
it’s my kink.
I don’t even like the music,
I just know you
like me for listening. 
What a ball,
a beautiful wedding. 
So pulls the oxen 
on cart. 

Pardon me a moment
while I spiral 
out of control here.

  • Tri Cyclic

    I did nothing
but watch
helpless
as the young
of my generation,
the gifted
and beautiful,
trapped themselves
in the same 
dead ends 
we hated the old
for wasting their
lives on.

I’m sorry.

  • Welcoming

    From birth
your time, 
they say,
will come.

Your family 
excited,
the papers,
you sign.
Guns flare. 

The uncles, 
the grandads,
the fathers - 
those left - 
they say, 
your time 
will come.

You sign,
they cheer,
you fight,
they boo.
Your war 
will come.

  • Requiem

    It becomes a dream
you share. 
The first to wake up
leaves.

  • Motivation

    Let their derision fuel your passion.

  • Coagulant

    Our ancestors sold the future

    for convenience. Now,

    we waste away,

    fighting for peace of mind.