The rioters and I. we go in different directions down the imperturbable street.

but we want the same things peace,calm and love .

The rioters and I ,we agree that the old ways are wrong and no longer fit. They want to smash, break and burn. Me a hater of violence does not want the old ways turned into martyrs but into lessons on how not to from history.

The rioters and I we agree that we are of one spiecies. We have diferent ways and diferent backgrounds. But one day we will find one calm, one love and one peace. where we can all live in peace as one down this imperturbable street.

The street will never be the same ,only better I hope! No more the rioters and I just love and peace.

when the old ways are no more, relegated into history.

written for the dverse prose prompt using


Are my words just folly Do they bring joy The way Mussenden temple brought joy to Fredrick Augustus and Frideswide Bruce One day i may leave a verse that matches the folly on the cliffs edge but for now this post i leave you hoping they are not my last words


#DVERSE # halloween haibun All hallows eve during plague season Black death rises during blue moon Media Out to hunt us all Their pumpkin minions are out No costumed children to keep them at bay Being paid in the sweet treats To protect us from the pumpkin minions. Even skull projected sign cannot call the … Continue reading ALL HALLOWS


Murder of crows over head hunting hunting hunting for the roast the gray sky above against the many black wings the noise of many defening. Hi overhead they call Wanting to sleep Waiting to blacken the morning sky

CHAPTER 1. Loomings

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.



      Rain drips from the awning above,

        I spy the old pair through the plate glass,

        Happy together till their demise,

        Their beauty seen as being together,

        Something I will never know.

        My mind slips as my hand slips,

        A knife from my pocket,

        Their blood into the rain trickles,

        Me a refugee from the country of rich,

        My life, not mine in this your pocket.

        This society those elders built stolen,

        From those they built it for,

        By the corporations of the money hoarders,

        Putting everybody alone in their own homes,

        For their contradiction of greed.

this is one of the first things i posted on my page and it seems to fit my mood for today. sorry if it is a bit dark for anyone.


#DVERSE # halloween haibun

skull sign
pumpkin minion

All hallows eve during plague season

Black death rises during blue moon

Media Out to hunt us all

Their pumpkin minions are out

No costumed children to keep them at bay

Being paid in the sweet treats

To protect us from the pumpkin minions.

Even skull projected sign cannot call the Costumed children !!!!!




finaglo swamp

My psyche has been swamped

The devious landlord of Finaglo Swamp

Wanting my thoughts for his own fun

The swamps hive mind craved more

So did plan a devious scheme

To steal many minds from countless others

But got swamped

With more than they could process.

The Finaglo Swamp

Overdosed before

I was



That is why the swamp gas

Makes a blup blup blup sound when it

Erupts from the mud.

It is dead minds escaping THE HIVE!!


#FOWC FINAGLO 20/10/20


Photo by Joshua Ku00f6ller on

Making Magnets

Attracted by the dirty science

Off the magnets makers clan


Machines push out many shaped magnets

Secrets will never pass along

magnetic personalities clashing all day

wages to stunted to live upon

said good bye to making magnets



This was written about my five year experence in a factory which manufactured magnets for the computor industry. thank you for the reminder of my time there as a young man.

Desert Of Ideas

I am in a Desert of ideas

Wondering in the desert of ideas,

No oasis of ink and paper,

Just a mirage of words to keep me company

Burning in the hot, hot sun

I am the now night

Hiding in the shadows that are not there

I made a deal with the devil

It cost me my sunrises and sunsets

My creative ideas gone, eaten

With the blood I now drink

Eternal life out the hot, hot sun

Once a poet was I, now just a long dead vampire.

Firestorm Cometh

The Firestorms

life must go on

But the firestorm cometh

We are the firestorm shouting down

Our own existence.

The show must go on even if the planet is dead

Don’t be a wimp when the firestorm cometh

Extinction cometh to all

But the universes show shall go on without us

In each and every dimension without humanity

The firestorm shall swallow us

When it cometh to take away our children

The firestorm shall burn you grandchildren

© rogleach  30/9/2020

for dverse poetry pub

Moon Beams

Photo by Pixabay on

Moon beams are my weapons of choice. I use them to slay the nightmares and monsters. Those who inhabit the night, the closet and the dark spaces under your bed.

The nightmares of extinction for these critters are brought on by the moon beams I hurl like javelins. In their dreams they sleep with the moon as an ally, but she is my lover. Giving me her moon beams to defend the weak.

I am the knight of the moons heart. Keeping the meek from extinction. Throwing moon beams at the greedy humans. Piecing their hearts with love for the other residents of this Earths forests.

Not all are wearing the armour of ignorance. That keeps my moon beans away from their hearts. For those a head shot is death. These creatures of the sun will pass into the future critters  daymares.

14/9/2020 rog leach