THE POETRY POLICE
I sometimes spot the Poetry Police
Standing guard over rules and regulations,
Brandishing lists of names
Like exam results,
LOCAL BIRDIES: DO BIRDS HAVE ACCENTS?
During my walk out in the woods
I heard something quite weird.
Blackbirds conversed in Schweitzerdeutsch;
I couldn’t believe my ears!
SONG TITLE CHALLENGE: C is for The Cure!
Charlotte Sometimes
Boys don’t Cry.
I’m a cult hero,
A Fragile Thing,
Alone.
Just in: a new review for ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN
A Review by Writer Pilgrim , So Elite
TUTUS AND THUNDER: SHOWDOWN AT DAWN
Aurora, dawn’s eternal Prima Ballerina, whose patience with Sol’s toxic masculinity has worn wafer-thin after a few too many centuries of solar sulking over the last billion years, hears a dull crack deep inside her chest. Before she even realizes it, she’s in the air, long, strong, sinewy legs outstretched, one scuffed, shell-pink satin pointe ballet shoe aiming straight at Sol’s solar plexus.
WORLD PEACE: A HYMN TO HARMONY
I want to believe
That the Brill-Creamed crows and magpies
Solemnly providing Peace Patrol
Will prevail,
MY BODY WANTS TO BE SPANISH: from Ibiza Dreams to a (Fabulous) Catalan Compromise
Where does your body want to come from?
THE ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN SOUNDTRACK: Because the songs know all the secrets
I have no idea whether the soundtrack to my poetry book will incite you to Shake Your Bootie (the track is on there, of course), get a little nostal-swoony (If You Leave Me Now Now), biturbo your feather dusting, or provide an eclectic mix for a road trip. You may never press play, because maybe you already know it’s not your vibe. And that’s absolutely fine.