Page 11 Poetry
The Tragedy of Youth I know how the cynic is born. She is born on a snowy April day, The hopes of light and life perpetually postponed. The means are…
Page 11 Poetry
Guts Fuck high drop curbstones and onrushing traffic, and time lapsing lights and darkening skies. Fuck furious drivers and speed and time, and dead end straight streets and sweating necks…
Page 11 Poetry
A Poem Should Punch You In The Face A poem should punch you in the face A singular sensation explosion, Instant, Insane, Electric. For one searing second, Sense solidifies. Analyse…
Page 11 Poetry
The sun is here, rx soon to go, A fleeting time to admire its glow, Full of glory for all to see, We adore your rays – as do the…