I am not your sweetheart Even when I am the sweetest I can be And you need salt to balance me.
A special kinda poison
Oh shiny crypto: You mesmerize – tantalise Me with your high highs And I’m drip fed your low fruit While you’re grasping my fools Gold.
Democracy
Does (or can) it exist… … if it waves lily white flags And supremicists raging in defeat…(deceit?)… lose their delusional minds?
To quoin and to quine, for the sake of Glame
The existential zeitgeist of 2016 occupies every Gen Y fear of the Millennials, every Gen X lament of Gen Y, and every Boomer’s rant about the technological era of the egocentric fool. To […]
Be Like
To follow my speculative post at new years, let’s talk about toxic people in modern times. The kind of people who have an opinion about everything you say or do, and usually, […]
the Reinvented Poet 