never-ends of true friends

friend 1

tender time and
sound attentiveness
of sincere advice

glued to torn, damp yet
stunning soul scraps of
your friendship,

i’ve woven needy, snug between
the two-

vivid crown of living
feathers, for troubled thoughts
and stiff reflection

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay

distempered

distemper

drying abscess acid slaver cakes
corners of creaking
gripe flaps

madness’ molting molars
rip into peel, roman genuflector’s
guilt deep

last squirming maggot’s redeeming
curtsy drools frothing eulogy
from constricted glacier
pores

glistening, sweaty rotten
stench of greying,

long strangled, loving
lucid waste piles of
endearments,

grisly gasping rattle slips,
death’s final “fuck you” to
tortured trek emits

in all its putrid, puerile
glorious half-wit

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay

 

last thing said/left for dead

claiming you were only victim in this, bloodied, burned bed…

last thing you said 1

the last thing,
that constricting, brittle
ring you left

rattlin’ round my
harm hollowed
head,

was marbles, pounding porcelain
bowl, no corners

rolling round, glass scratch  
grating sounds,

in sycophantic circles,
treed, nowhere going

exposing where i most lacked
self-knowing

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay

 

parlure

parlour 3

plunging into choice
iced cream
flavour

i’m the hoodie friend,
your ‘saviour’

simple sigh quits cherry
flush lips,

eyes swallow their
burst, upon tempting 
first lick

i find myself jealous,
and well,  that’s kind of
sick

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay

a grumpy gift: From Every Corner of the Room — Objects, and the Distance Between Them

Inspiring and encouraging words from a triumphant and beautiful soul.

There will be days When the shadows close in From every corner of the room And the clouds outside Will not abate There will be nights Where the soft pattering Of rain against the window Brings no peace For the sound may serve As a stark reminder Of the world that lays beyond And how […]

via From Every Corner of the Room — Objects, and the Distance Between Them

a grumpy gift: Professional Pig — I am a poet! I am. I am. I am a poet, I reaffirmed, ashamed.

quite possibly the most unabashedly unique and distinct voiced poet known to me,  and an artist I am privileged to call peer and friend. 

You are all lean, sinewy edges buoyant layers of musculature and calloused hands but i wouldn’t have known that if i hadnt squeezed your shoulder or grasped the pencil from your fingertips so i made a note to be more professional and less of a pig because A)it’s unethical B)it’s distracting

via Professional Pig — I am a poet! I am. I am. I am a poet, I reaffirmed, ashamed.