raise the camp fire,
blankets spread on
the ground,
singing dead and door
tunes,
sex chorus behind
rolling orange orb
waiting for the sherbet
Girls bringing sherbet
Tag Archives: writing
Wheatfields
Wheatfields
she hitched her
shorts the cleft
appeared
and in that moment
all tides surged
today had become
brighter.
Ukrainian girl in wheat field Painting
Ukraine
Painting, Oil on Canvas
Size: 25 W x 35 H x 1.4 D cm
Love Ukraine
2022 a pandemic is just loosening its grip and then another disease began , Russia under the looming presence of Putin , invaded Ukraine with brutal aggression a petulant psychopath wanting a reunited Soviet Union , well he can fuck off , I see on the news a beautiful people facing adversity with grace and fortitude and in my heart and prayers I think of them , and as I do I remembered there is a poem Love Ukraine by Volodymyr Sosyura that says so much and can fit for the here and now
Please offer aid to any organisation , the people of Ukraine need our love and support
Naked Orange
standing naked in the kitchen
talking on long cable
green wall phone
handset greasy
from pan fried bacon
I needed you
as we spoke
long distance
bare feet paced
on tactile floor
your voice oozed
sweet through receiver
I could see you
imagine you
black neglige
auburn hair
remaining flaccid
slapped to my thighs
as I knew
his cigarette tasting
tongue would be
caressing your neck
hands massaging
needy breasts
you will come home
shower fresh panties
and we would
cradle ourselves in love
on the couch
Denise Levertov
Consulting the Oracle /From a Plane
Beneath the Peel
It is Done
Demise of a Fly
my balls killed a fly
it’s wings shower damp
lost momentum and flight
testicular seismic shift
wrecking ball swing
smacked to the floor
whereupon in a swirl
of foam and grime
was lost to the plug hole
unmourned
Juke Date 74
there is a dirt road thunder
away from city limits
dust and grits
and over burnt coffee
crows feet eyes
and indistinct touch
nothing cellphone can resolve
jukebox clicks to vinyl
see her in the kitchen
with a smile
I will eat her pie
Blast
cumulonimbus squall
of a headache
tore me out of delirium
to blister pack paracetamol
choked almost
that raw pharmaceutical taste
mug of tea
apple spiced
wishing the phone
would cease
exhausted now
as silence fell
I took to being asleep
with tainted tongue
and abstract thoughts
velvetmedia 