Tyburn

Trying out another form of poetry called Tyburn. It's supposed to be 6 lines with the specific syllable counts of 2,2,2,2,9, and 9 respectively.



This last one isn't the correct syllable count, but I really liked the word 'viraling' [I made it up], so I wrote it anyway. They're supposed to be a commentary on the warped weather patterns we've been experiencing lately.

Marching Absurdity

Some doodling in my sketchbook. I was going to do more to it, but drew a blank, pardon the pun. After I started drawing it, I decided it fit the poem on the previous post. I may do more drawing for that poem.

My scanner's not working, so I'm resorting to using my camera, but it's hard to get the lighting even. I had to apply curves to this, so it looks bluer than it really is.

Anthropological Ball

When we can get past seeing ourselves as victims, then we can release the anger and discover our true identity.

anthropological ball

marching absurdities
scatter in patterned formations
diverging from a Dali painting
in undulating spirals
summoning –
Come inside
Come inside

ancient carney clown-faced beasts
hail the puppeteers
mummies on strings
in a sarcophagus strewn tent
chanting –
See the show
See the show

Inspired by this song, and is a continuation of the poem, 'Nature of Identity'.

Tired Again

tired again
though winter’s rest is over
sun dried chill blows
through a honeysuckle covered
briar patch

Respite cut short
by an early drought

balmy aroma settles sluggishly
among prickles and poison ivy
like artificially flavored syrup
on bleached, deep fried bread

stripped of nutritional purpose
sweet intoxication deteriorates