Archive for all the stuff I call poems that I have written over the last 30 years and that I still continue to write, oblivious to the fact that they might be little more than doggawn atrocious in the eyes of those who might not know how to generate within themselves the bliss invisible.
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
Karma
we create a strong tide which leaves in its wake a future form of life that must be partaken, be it on the glory of flower mountain south or up the arse of hell stinking loud and bloody
