Nothing to hide, some words about my poetry

Yes, I cry !
Yes, I’m a loser with no talent playing the poet and the artsy !
Yes, I will not stop doing that !
(Not stop Writing)
My screams are harsh
So everyone can hear them
I’m not ashamed of my pain
I’ll let you know when I’m suffering,
But when I’m happy
We will go drink together
And burn down the bar.
I have nothing to hide,
I have
So bring me another whiskey
And then, bring me the gun
I will fill it with words
And shot bleeding verses
To your heart.

Poetry is a-killing

That’s funny

when people think about poetry

they usually think about

pink letters dressed like rabbits

what they don’t know

is that poetry is a gun

every word is a shot to the head

every verse is a-killing

what the poet really wants

is the naked brains of his readers

served in a plate

to feast with them

in a canibal’s dinner


poetry is the sin eating your soul

poetry is the blood that runs between your fingers

poetry is the disfigured image in the mirror
poetry is the wake up in the middle of the night
with panic for your future
poetry is a broken heart’s harsh screaming
poetry is a slave feeding his master
poetry is the dark hole when you are drunk
poetry is death
poetry is about losing everything
poetry is a-killing