She said, “Jesus wept”
Was her favourite Bible verse,
Because it showed Jesus
Was human and shared
Our human feelings.

I suspected it was her
Favourite because it was
The easiest to remember,
But I guess it isn’t so bad.

It’s better than the ones
That command genocide,
Stoning children, or taking
Virgin girls as spoils of war.

But it isn’t as good as the ones
That say to turn a...

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The prompt for day six of NaPoWriMo was to write a poem dealing with counterfactual conditionals, as it were. Here is mine:

Accepting an Infinite Regression of Causes

If only life had come into being
On different terms, according to a different template.

If pain weren’t the primary motivating factor
For keeping life propelling itself forward,

If the best of all possible worlds weren’...

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The poetry is pretty perhaps,

And some may appreciate the aesthetics

While being put off by the messiness

Of the content, preferring a tidy theme.

And maybe you could clean it up

A bit to avoid making the prigs uncomfortable.

Say something about flowers by the seaside,

For example, and let us forget people have sex.

And let’s forget about messy conflict

In relationships,...

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He broke her spirit when he declared

He didn’t even know what love is.

She had only asked a simple question

As she planned her own future.

Whilst he resisted closing his options,

He never noticed how open hers were.

She awaited his answer as her suitors

Sat on the sidelines biding their time.

He pretended he didn’t understand

The comfort of constant companionship

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At the interview, she said,

“These are some designs I’ve been

Working on since I got out of jail.”

On his dating profile, he said,

“I’ve finished the last course of antibiotics

And feel I’m ready to date again.”

At dinner, she confessed,

“I listened to a Justin Bieber song to see what it was

And I ended up listening to the entire album.”

At the office sexu...

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If you’re a poet prowling in penumbral light,

Staggering through shadows alone and lost,

Praying for a spiritual Sherpa to

Take you to atmospheric heights,

Or at least pull you from chasmic depths

And save you from the crushing pressure

Of self-loathing and free floating anxiety,

You should get to know me.

If your addictions are afflictions

You can no longer bear an...

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You are certainly not a metaphor,

But you may be sort of like a simile.

You are my rudder and sails on a turbulent sea.

You are like a force that guides and propels me.

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