an inside place

scraped childhood
in her blame branded face

mouse moment clasped
with fondness-

rose blue dawn, drawn inside,
on soul’s safer side.

flamingo breeze trees 
lawn-chair land. 
no demand-

perfect pillow place
to hide.

©Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/publicdomainpictures-14/

image: https://pixabay.com/en/woman-face-cracks-portrait-female-3779153/

 

 

 

a joy-full place

show me, skittles joyful
prince of place-

somewhere far off
of far away.

twinkling trees, with
lemon lights as leaves

ocean skies crisp and
breathing bright-

uncluttered, neo-citron
blanket night-

feels just
right.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/prawny-162579/

images: https://pixabay.com/en/users/fotocitizen-397314/

 

 

boys n’ birds (poisoned birds)

your spiked tongue blitz , scattered
 sparrows in feathered arrows

from calloused welcome wings of 
kindest trees-

jock greasy, block-jawed
boor of bully.

i snarled, bedeviled

disheveled by what packed pocket shames 
may have raised brazen brat guns.

if you’d actually managed
to swipe one,

spite’s doomsday delight , beamed 
off in frantic flights

punk’s pride cloud hovering grey 
o’er entombed throb of daylight

i mourned lovely’s damned
drought from once tear
damp, pretty trees

with “heil” vile, barren presence
inside me.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: pixabay (can’t find photo)

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/prettysleepy1-2855492/

 

 

 

typic type tangles

sitting on salt water taffy
pulled pressure pins

clutching maniac monk’s
fragile fender strings

tugging mind’s burden blinds

shielding  spider slit eyes,
waxing-sly swim’s web of flies

from inside’s bright grin skies
through clay, clouded skin

stretching sheepskin pores
into stable, roach shell floors

propping pity’s spine-trim tables
able to strip support

weasel’s war, been
bottle battlin’

time’s siamese-spleen wrung clean 
on vital shore signs of sin

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/_alicja_-5975425/

image: https://pixabay.com/en/appetizing-diet-carrots-bio-style-3153102/

words #8 (I keep ’em short)

words #4

i use few words ’cause
it’s habit

to inhabit routine’s beige
rot machine, pumping  fat
fear, fucked on cold cock
screen

gears reel dreary real
feelings, into flabby phrases
for mock healing

but sinking ceilings drip
doubt, ’till fated flip
slips back to slick
script laced with
prozac and tits

abated brain’s trained,
to avert strained
exert-
favouring same plain
pain-train flavoured 
hurt

bloated tight with trite
rhymes in duplicate
patterns, coated
in batter from splatter
greasy old gold spent
times-

in low patience peace
of night-time’s grime,

words, keep ’em
short.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

images: https://pixabay.com/en/woodtype-printing-font-letterpress-846089/

 

DNR

freed trembling cork
from tangled noose
sparkler outlet

studying mauve-rind
loose end mended chapter, 
as you sputtered last motley
exhaust gasp

flickering bulbs fraught
then eased blank, 
in mercy’s rigger 
pod.

no longer
lipstick smudged with
dry shames scrape-spared
from kin’s  pseudo care-

just torched island
placidity, reclaiming awkward
bullseye kid’s  prayers.

mess of legacy’s acrid
spillage crimes cloaked
in freshest floating snows,

tender teared pity or
cool impatience?

no spared soul can
now know.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/ljcor-3559387/