Why do I feel inspired when I get caught

At a Glance

I found myself, with the TV blaring in the background, trying to write something meaningful, but failed, just as I usually do when I run low on cigarettes, pills and booze.

The TV was on, and a brief story was running a rescue piece about a wounded fox entangled in barbed wire. It sounded painful, but what do I know about foxes in pain, road-kill orphaned badgers, or even the blind but optimistic farmers in need or heart surgery… i may simply be out of touch with reality, maybe even heartless as those senile war criminals who we far more than often see escorted into court in a wheel chair smiling…

When I turned my head, thinking this poor fox was in for some more pain. To my surprise all he did at that moment was stare back at me… like I’m was the wounded animal.

Little Poem Ravaged #14

A misunderstood stand – pun intended.

Malicious wolves had chewed their way through the sinews of the deer, diving deeper into the prey; they noticed movement within the carcass, as though there was something trying to make its way out. The pack instantly froze, and had fixed a curious stare at what might be their next kill. Taking caution, they took a few paces back; and watched, birth. For this was rare – no pun intended. An unwounded offspring made its way through, forcing its way free from its mother’s wolf made c-section. It tried standing, for the first time, but naturally, it failed. It tried again, and managed to stand, only for a moment; it then looked up at the wolves, and took its first breath of the world. The first breathe, the wolves, the mutilated carcass painted on a canvas. I like it; I think I’ll buy it.

Little Poem #5

Dungeons of Human Progress


A fresh latex glove

Inserted its piteous branches

Into the forests of expired clones

The erroneous race is here,

To modify evolution itself.


Magnesium rabbits

Biodegradable rats

Telekinetic resurrected dodos

But what is to be

Of these critters,

In the shiny metal cages?

– These illogical humans.


Little Poem #4

Widowed Dildo

Ejaculated dildo thrown out the window

Belonged long ago to a bride, whom now

A widow, who lazed and gazed out the window, she sighed “Dildo.”

The only pleasure, the

old widow, would treasure

– the dildo

The lonely dildo, blue, black and red, wept

As the widow’s forbidden zone fermented like bread.


Little Poem that’s not so little, or a poem #3


He fucked up. I mean he really fucked up… and he knew it, but he just watched the lifeless corpse, that moments earlier was hurling words of hurt and truth towards him. He watched, observed how the blood made its way through the clothing. His head tilted. He began wondering and observing how the blood was hindered by the double stitching of what he imagined was a white shirt, “as white as a lie”… he thought… he grinned at that thought, thinking it was witty… then realized the thought made no sense. It upset him. He began to feel as though logic betrayed him again… The sounds of his thoughts began to anger him…sounding more and more like those of the corpse’s… Both, he thought, echoed… first off itslips to the walls of the room, then in his mind, his incoherent thoughts echoed deeper… His teeth now clenched… His head lowered, his heart beat grew faster and harder…Something he noticed as he stepped forward. It enraged him even more, that his heart is beating, that he can feel it, even more enraged now, as he remembered that he hated logic, but forgot why… He was full of hate… he took another step towards the dead. Then stopped. Again, he didn’t know why. He stood still, the stillness… the stillness even that, he was aware of, he compared it to the dead… Its almost as though he was playing a game now… who would move first… For a moment he stood there, lifeless… He felt nothing… heard nothing, knew nothing. He then burst out into hysterical laughter… “I’ve won!” he kept repeating, “I’ve won!”, then began hurling insults and teasing the dead body … and pointing to the blood as it moved closer. You moved. You see… I win. You moved…