Mad World

Photo By: T. Lux Feininger 

We’re on fire,

On the cusp of a great war pulsing with cosmic dissonance.

Noises off,

Noises cluster fuck into a beautiful rage,

A punk rock symphony.

Mother Earth moans into the fruitfulness of our existence,

Beckoning for a revolution with her furrowed brows

Dear Whomever

Photo by: Weisses Rauschen 

Give my regards to the little darling
who lays in the petals
and dreams of cheshire grins
and moonlit melodies

Mundane

Morph No. 2 (Cloud) Jo Ann Callis

Mundane, baby, my life is a Monday, baby.

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Forever waiting for the four days that follow

And while I pace

and pace the floor  

The space between my thoughts grows wide

Surely this life is something to be had

but all that I find are musty smells,

and the faint memories of things that have been or could have been

but were somehow lost in between tomorrow's expectations and today’s carefully formulated calculations

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Mundane, baby, my life is a Monday, baby.