Grimbeau

Scroodles

Bold Turkey

Grimbeau

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A Prial of poems

about giving

up

using cigarettes

as a metaphor.

Smart, uh! Believe me!

I’m a Vicar

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orwell-alone1

Now…Where was I?

Grimbeau

Hovis

Dark morn sings heavy pox since muse took
some vital dive and ate my words
Sure, some got rescued by  tree beast and now it
dwells in silly mode

a link and the easy magic
rolling from bed to let my thoughts and
dreams is done and gone. Now, morning is just
me, the kettle, a microwave, and the
coffee pot and I better get used to it.

Thus, today is a new same old as I
take coffee and drugs and head upstairs
by Tardis to the muse with black keys and
switch on the shipping forecast and the yarn.

Now, where was I…

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