Whatever the customer wants is a #poem about the abuse in Harrods and part of my new collection Let the Quiet Ones Rise #book #books #poetry Robinince.com
I will be performing happy, sad, and poems of resistance in London on 16th May
https://www.kingsplace.co.uk/whats-on/comedy/robin-ince-let-the-quiet-ones-rise-launch/
After a sleepless night of pain the old man drags his breathless lifeless corpse out of a sunken bed of jagged thorny shards of rock and steel, unable to yet see as the classical music plays the old man drags himself across the floor to prepare his coffee, as his hands shake and tremble hs pours in the water and counts the scoops of grind and after fumbling he manages to plug in the percolator and as the coffee begins to perc, he shuffles off to the toilet where his bowels bellow out in a hungerous rage, in the mirror an exhausted face stares off into the abyss the reflection shows his disheveled hair and beard to tired to care he stumbles back to his bed, he struggles to pull on his socks and pants he slips on his slippers and pours a cup of coffee then he gently packs his pipe with scraps of tobacco and steps out the door, the morning is dark and gray the air is mild with a hint of dampness, as the world begins to wake not a soul cares for the enduring hell the old man is forced to face yet another day;
You can encourage my continued useless #poetry, creativity and expression of self, #commentary, random thoughts, #philosophy and ideas, and by doing so your helping to feed, house and clothe a #disabled man living in #poverty, $5-10-15 It All Helps, via #cashapp at $woctxphotog or via #paypal at paypal.com/donate?campaign_id=…
This Week in Literary History: Lord Byron Swims Across the Hellespont
“I plume myself on this achievement more than I could possibly do on any kind of glory, political, poetical, or rhetorical.”
https://lithub.com/this-week-in-literary-history-lord-byron-swims-across-the-hellespont/
"Don Juan" at PG:
start of a song
if you could follow
the Path back home
would it really matter
who you have become
and would you want to
see what happens next
or is it really all
all just the same
Revisionist Poetry – “The Grit-Singers (A Blues for the Mineral Dark)” – Ghostly Stones, v.5
The stones—
They don’t just stand, they heave.
Tired gods with marble jaws and spines of jagged grit,
twitching in that yellow fever-light,
that rot-light of afternoon and ash.
See the names?
Carved like hexes into the skin—
that pale, dying, limestone skin.
The rain has licked the letters loose.
The sun has kissed the marrow to ruin.
They’re keeping watch.
Yeah, they’re watching the quiet ones.
The ones tucked six feet deep into the hush.
The vanished kings. The girls with the broken names.
The dreamers still clawing dirt with phantom hands.
And Time?
Time is moving through the weeds barefoot.
A blind drummer,
beating a rhythm on the heat,
striking the ribs of the world.
And every stone remembers.
Every stone is holding what you’re too scared to touch.
They used to be moons—remember that?
Cold, polished, silver moons.
You touched them with your flowers.
You wet them with your salt.
You brought your nervous, shaking fingers to the knee.
But look at ‘em now.
Old prophets, drunk on the distance.
Leaning into a wind that tastes like rust.
Faces scarred by the teeth of the rain.
Edges cracked and leaking ghosts.
But hush now—
Listen close to the grit.
Under the choke of the weeds,
under the oily hum of the city,
there is a knocking in the mineral dark.
A low, shivering music.
A throat trapped in the stone.
It ain’t a whisper—it’s a burn.
It says: I was here.
It says: I caught fire.
It says: I loved until the bone turned to glass.
amber tears flowing
between snifters of brandy
another round please
#Haiku #Poetry #Writing #WritingCommunity #PoetryCommunity
#MastoPrompt
#Brandy
@stevencudahy
Robin Ince
Lundy-creative
Lee Firefly
Gertrude Stein's Tender Bot
pasjrwoctx👽
Project Gutenberg
Sifaseven
simple signs
The New Renaissance Mindset
juma