Showing posts with label creeps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creeps. Show all posts
Saturday, October 13
Saturday, February 19
Area Man's Tragic Mis-step
Area man fails to leave blog comment
February 19, 2011 1:12 PM
[sick]
kshawnedgar said...
February 19, 2011 1:12 PM
[sick]
kshawnedgar said...
Gorgeous! Ringu is an excellent movie.Has she done any recent projects? Tragically, the comment failed due to problems with the verify word at beautifulgurls blogspot! Ghoustly intervention or simple user error? We may never know.
Labels:
aballet,
beauty,
bombing,
British,
coffee,
communicate,
creeps,
dating,
flowers,
helium,
K Shawn Edgar,
KipperShawn,
poetry,
rainbows,
speech,
think,
words,
writer,
Writing
Saturday, August 14
Putting Iron vs. Blackberry Tangle
Tear me up in the guts
Tear me up in the heart
Street
Ditch
Row of rural mailboxes,
Toppling.
It tears me up.
Rips tiny holes in my organs,
That blackberry bramble,
Sprawling
Catching my pantlegs, my bootlaces
I beat them down
Fend them off
Swinging with my putting iron, sword-like.
It tears me up to see where I fought back the blackberry bushes for her.
It tears me up to see it now.
She, picking for freezing and pie-making.
Me, in large untied leather boots, swinging my guts out.
Taking it all out on the green thorny blackberries.
Smashing them back
Beating them down
Swinging my putter-sword to destroy them like the small creeps they are.
Tears my guts, my blood, my bones,
The gravel driveway
Our crappy shared carport
That blue-grey duplex,
Can't think away from it.
Beating them down,
Sprawling
Never
Always
In her absence,
It tears me up in my head.
Where once she was the only insurgence of growth,
The creeps have taken hold.
Tear me up in the heart
Street
Ditch
Row of rural mailboxes,
Toppling.
It tears me up.
Rips tiny holes in my organs,
That blackberry bramble,
Sprawling
Catching my pantlegs, my bootlaces
I beat them down
Fend them off
Swinging with my putting iron, sword-like.
It tears me up to see where I fought back the blackberry bushes for her.
It tears me up to see it now.
She, picking for freezing and pie-making.
Me, in large untied leather boots, swinging my guts out.
Taking it all out on the green thorny blackberries.
Smashing them back
Beating them down
Swinging my putter-sword to destroy them like the small creeps they are.
Tears my guts, my blood, my bones,
The gravel driveway
Our crappy shared carport
That blue-grey duplex,
Can't think away from it.
Beating them down,
Sprawling
Never
Always
In her absence,
It tears me up in my head.
Where once she was the only insurgence of growth,
The creeps have taken hold.
Labels:
Blackberry,
creeps,
duplex,
K Shawn Edgar,
love,
orenco,
poetry
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