Armchair #haibun

this was written for tonights monday #haibun challange at #dversepoets pub

https://dversepoets.com/2021/10/25/haibun-monday-10-25-21-fear/

There he sits . His knowledge never lived.

Gogglebox drop fed straight to his diseased mind.

His gardens arboreal skeletons mean no more than a hiding place.

The sky above this house burns like hellfire.

The marsh of hellfire hides his victims

School uniforms his pleasure. A collection he keeps under his bed

A police cordon surrounds his house every October 31st.

Until the kiddies firebombed his abode.

Curtains twitching

Childhood monster lives within

Innocents snatches loose

Heckled Guilt

Tonight at the dverse poets pub Ingirid invited us to take a look at pain in poetry. I have gone with the pang of guilt i felt at putting a heckler down at an open mic. I have suffered at the hands of bullies a lot in my life and even now i still feel guilty at standing up to them. i know i should not but i cannot fight my inner empath.

https://dversepoets.com/2021/10/12/poetics-from-a-place-of-pain/

Stood up front at open mic,

To share our home planets pain,

At our greedy ways.

——————————————————————————————

Repugnant quip hurled,

Pendulous silence thwacks

The clamour from the room.

——————————————————————————————

Mind Lost in fleeting shock untill,

Heckler put down uttered in irritation,

Heckler mocked and muzzled.

——————————————————————————————–

My poetry set concluded,

Empathy thrusts into being,

Why My guilt trip kicks in,

at my uttering of heckler put down.

2022 #Dverse

This following passage was written for Dverse poets pub prosery prompt on Monday 11/10/2021. To celebrate the poet T.S. Elliot. To do this we are writing a prosery piece of no more than 144 words which has to include the line “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish.”

Prosery: The Waste Land

October 31^st 2022.

I am the last Englishman. My country chocked on its own bigotry and self-righteous attitude. We built ourselves up into the beasts who live under the beds of the indigenous people of this beautiful world.

I sit overlooking the Thames on Oct 31st 2022 as the sun goes down. The words of T.S Elliot “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish.” Drift through my mind as I watch the corpses of London float past.

As a poet I open the eyes of my nation to it’s historical bullying in the name of progress. we never got past the cave man thinking of we own the land and ignoring the fact we are of it.

I leave this note to say sorry dear Earth for our transgressions. I now leap to join the other corpses in the river!

Invatation!

https://dversepoets.com/2021/09/06/quadrille-135-shake-that-poem-groove-thang/

https://dversepoets.com/tag/groovy/ time at #dverse #poets tonight thanks to De. I got thinking is I was invited to a vampires house warming party what I expect to find going down at such a groovy gig and wouls I have the courage to complete with garland of garlic bottle of holy water (It’s rude not to take a bottle and snacks to a party) and the party game of spin the stake.

Invitation!

Victoriana Island invites you

To spend an eternal night.

Grooving with us commemorating

our final resting place.

Come enjoy, Blood baths.

Pirouetting the dead.

Surrounded by, Boiling seas of blood.

Prance Across rotten walkways

Bringing your melancholy mood,

and groove with

Draco and Persephone.