Monday, October 24, 2011


In lounge-sofa strong
Streams asunder-float then fall
Softly, to the ground beneath

Plushness of the bristling count
Bearing emblems north through heel
And it travels- throughout my data set,
Coarsely, until the information interjects

Diodes and chloroform
Grown to numb
Numbed to growth

These shackles are self-imposed
The key is inches from the couch
Just an arms length away

This prison’s made of ice
Wouldn’t take much
To heat the walls inside


  1. hey schweddy balls is real as is the lingerie football league...ripped both of those off the headlines yesterday...

    ah the self imposed...inches away and you cant sit up..smiles...melt it....haha

  2. Haha, I figured it was, I knew the lingerie football league was true- actually heard that story as well. Glad you enjoyed the piece- yeah melt it away for sure, thanks

  3. Yep, just out of reach indeed. Thanks

  4. Hi Fred, this is a great subject for a poem and very well rendered. Take care, k.

  5. Wouldn't take much, but many would rather whine and wait for something to fall into their lap, breaking them out of the prison instead of getting off their lazy behinds and doing something about it.

  6. It's not out of reach, it's just I didn't want to get up. :D Get the feeling it's so comfortable there, grown completely used to it and as said in the poem "numb" and "numb to growth". Self imposed when you no longer desire to move. Nice point about the heat needed, has to come from within it seems. Interesting thoughts from this one.

  7. Raven- that's great. That numbness of the moment is kind of what I was getting at here. Out of reach I would agree as while you're in that moment most things seem out of reach- yet it could be due to lack of wanting- kind of a conundrum in this light. Great feedback as usual, thank you