power
surface tension not even in the corridors of tradition-hobbled government buildings does this beast raise its head, civil and uncivil servants scurrying along robots of invisibly prescribed policy and hunger… Continue Reading
Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
surface tension not even in the corridors of tradition-hobbled government buildings does this beast raise its head, civil and uncivil servants scurrying along robots of invisibly prescribed policy and hunger… Continue Reading
She saw him out of the corner Of her one still-functioning eye as She rushed across the deserted bridge To her one-bedroomed cupboard south Of the oppressive river, and stopped…. Continue Reading
long lists shirt lists unfinished lists imaginary lists incomplete scribbled typed one-handed urgent useless hounding hounded lists lists lists unstarted unread untought overthought seconds going indecision lost words lost actions… Continue Reading
Her eyes were opaque, at best, When he first looked into them, and That was what attracted him, who Thought he knew everything about Human nature, because he couldn’t See… Continue Reading
These are no longer my thoughts, My actions, my words, movements, Feelings. They come from that Foreign force within that hijacks, Has always, my body, my being, When there is… Continue Reading
Back on the #MastoPrompt trail. Journey Our mother would hurry us to bed Amidst the scent of bacon sandwiches The night before that long journey, Always at the same time… Continue Reading
On My Own as I read A Man Called Ove I stare at the emptiness that was you, And try to put you back together From bits of memory and… Continue Reading
Her hands, Bony, veiny, strong, Have the arts of resurrection In them, those multiple Crafts of pleasure And spirit. She only uses pleasure in the Here and now, to bring… Continue Reading
In her quieter moments, When her daily lovers are asleep Or she has cast them aside for The solitude she needs to cast Her spells on them and the World,… Continue Reading
The victims are unknown. No count. No names. No memorial. In the crossfire of politics, Everyone dies. The ricochet of careless words Cannot be calculated Nor predicted. The paths of… Continue Reading