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/

 

 

 

be.

erase hanging hate with
stirred cryptic slur
and wander-

suck taste, like you’ve
died, biting growl
of thunder

in septic
blur.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/stocksnap-894430/

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/rputs-380179/

 

scatters

photo

turmoil in white
trim,

stiff long before
bulb flashed,

a leer at hollow print
won’t unearth
sun,

past has still
passed.

© Anthony Gorman 2019

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/igorovsyannykov-6222956/

image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/artsybee-462611/