Often my poetry
deals with the obscene,
the dirty, filithity, of grossness,
but until I reach a gross of gross poems,
I will persevere.

Onward and Downward!

The snow flies
the plot thickens
the crow cries
my pulse quickens

I’ve got a thought
to stay inside
To wait this out
where it’s safe

But I’m not sure
the rest of me
can keep up
with that pace

Damn it
swing another saber
Damn it
swing it loud and low
Damn it
swing it that much greater
Damn it
Watch it go

The snow flies
the plot thickens
the crow cries
my pulse quickens

on writing this i found the
words much softer than the
chair in which i was sitting and
upon the realization decided to
sit upon said words and insert
said chair into this poem.

hence the lack of softness
poetry