Ode To My Vices
Poem You dull my mind And turn me blind But I need you Don’t I? Don’t lie. I need truth too. I hate you, so much, But I can’t give you up. “I think...
Author: T. Mapley
Without You
Poem I have plucked you like a thorn from my side. I have fucked you and shown you my insides. I think about you sometimes if sometimes means all of the time. I...
A Semester Abroad
Poem About Love You call it writers block, I say I’m empty inside. Arguments over cold coffee And burning but not smokeable Cigaretter butts. Social contracts obligate me To tell you not to...
Blood at the Rodeo
Short Poem The wild southwest has been a savior and a damnation. So sparse, so surreal and even in the squalor. The life I live is a lie and in this desert it...
Suburban Perseus
Contemporary Poetry I spend all my time screaming at walls and watching my prison sink. Circumvented by people I no longer respect, The tears they shed are meaningless like pages devoid of ink. Nothing,...
Three Years
Poem The weariness shows, Time now slows, and life cripples Autumn lets out a sigh Incubating Ice Shelter all the loneliness Anesthetize me Our copulation Rain puddles that we drowned in This budding...
The Faded Man
Poem On the bed a shadow of a man can still be seen, If you squint enough, And there is still enough. They say he had it rough; He won’t say anymore, So...
Something You Think About in the Sunshine
Poetry About Life This, the summer of blackened souls And upturned collars, This will be the first summer of my lasts. Arriving at this precipice, I must hesitate And catch myself between the...
Fox of Berlin
Place Poem Fox of Berlin, Where do you go? To the beer gardens of bears? To the squalor of the low? How mechanical the city You chose to call your own, Forsaking your...
Surprise Party
Sad Poems The dates of my birth and suicide Ironically, coincide, Party goers see the inside Of my brain against the wall. I didn’t invite them anyways to this occasion – my special...
To Ginsberg
Poem Ginsberg wept For the soul of others, But I weep for his soul alone. If only I could be his Green eyed copy boy, And He my troubled Home. Sweet roses bloom...
