Collected Poetry

Untitled 1

Left turn, down wind.
Blanket for the road.
Waged on the nostrils.

Never sourced nor seen,
As if a ghostly truck spilled,
Or a tree let for syrup.

Though hardly the syrup
To complement a breakfast,
Please, just walk to a toilet.


Untitled 2

Left hanging there,
Left for dead.
The rotting stench
Gets to your head.

Passersby, heads keep down,
Ye innocent living souls!
Now have you known the wrath
Of these perturbed bowels.


Untitled 3

This the scent of a woman.
Breathe it deeply, lads.
The odor, a welcome friend.
To live is the breathe here.

Ah, to think of whence it came.
Not flower bloom'd in sweet summer,
Nor fragrant fall of dear autumn,
Can match the scent of a woman's bottom.