I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Your small, silken ears savor spring’s strong song Unfurled on the mast of a barked synapse Of miniature ships in a still throng
By D. J. Reddall10 months ago in Poets
Reality show: Scientists and poets fall In love over drinks
To secure our love You must be pretty and good At being others
Everything would have Coalesced perfectly in That single, lost hour
No thoughts without words Such an avalanche of words Without one, clear thought
By D. J. Reddall11 months ago in Poets
Let's talk about the cost of cheap theatrics Of being taken in by a superficially charming, sham serious charlatan Someone who never stops playing the person
Where are they going, those gaunt, gallant ships? Wherever you wish them to go, my friend! Surely some madness tumbles from your lips:
To locate the edge Hurry to where the map ends Smell territory
An alien eye That pays careful attention To our stark nonsense
Arguing with fools Makes us crave the cool, dark earth We do it all day
Not knowing the way Plain truth tastes, we will swallow All the candied lies
Bright dreams of glory March beneath the old fool's crown While sycophants scheme
