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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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 | Most Recent Poetry  (E)Poetry most recently written. #2035077 by Vanishing Vapor   |
 I call junk yards eclectic, Farmers, collectors of plants, The vacuum of space, antiseptic, Myself, the bane of all ants. The smithy of time defines us, The past only lives in the mind The future brings surprises, True love, a fortunate find. Few facts we firsthand know, Physical world events show, Fortunate we are to grow, Safe from hellfire below. |
 Who do I write for? Me. I like to read my own words, Written by me. I like the way they look on paper, How they sound in my eyes. It's not ego. I take pride, but that aside, It's all about what I enjoy, A toy for the boy to play with, I like the way the words feel, And hope others do, too. I'm very tactile that way, But that's a different poem. Written under duress of the "Ought to be doing something else," monster. |
 "Look at me, I'm fireproof!" Then the goof gave us proof, Not that he was fireproof But Jager had taken over. "We're all just farts in the wind," How I wish that were true, So loud my death would be. And familiar to my friends. |
 He answered me, Prey for wolfen teeth, Lying in pieces, To heal wounded flesh. He answered me, Who doubted existence, Cursed His name, Killed His only Son. He answered me, In flash flood waterfalls, Dissolved my wounds, By currents of love. |
 That's right, I babble. I choose to write, In scrabbles of words, Not right or wrong. Dabbles of babbles, Of a singsong type. Ripe with sugary sweet irony, Whatever that is. |
 His lifetime, Little more than a game, Full of things never said. Shall we exhume the exonerated? One perk of being a wallflower, Is knowing the enemy. |
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