Home rips open my exo-skeleton

When I abandon my home spirit
things start to grow weary.
As painful memories consume me
how will I know to never look back at anger?
The morning smell begs
creativity wants its place it calls haven.
New areas & new faces
adjusting to spark for inspiration,
but as time goes by,
the years bring me to decay.

My real home is where I belong –
If I don’t return, then I might as well drive myself
into complete madness.

 

Over @dVerse, Abhra has us writing on coming home.

© Charlie Zero and Home rips open my exo-skeleton, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and Home rips open my exo-skeleton with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Bozo the clown killed Mr. funny Nose

I’m too high for me
to train a metallic wind.
Before Don Knotts,
there we’re Dino-hippies
trying to eat watermelon cinema.
We shot the king pope
with a can of flowers
and some ginger bread shine. Amen!

 

© Charlie Zero and Bozo the clown killed Mr. funny Nose, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and Bozo the clown killed Mr. funny Nose with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

How a pink unicorn drank absinthe from Superman’s Heart

7 Greek gods march towards the mouth of superman,
pretending to cleanse his mind; from a genocidal madman.
A black swan licks the rotten egg –
much like Neptune who only prays to one leg.
Muted screams sparkle consciousness above a master raven,
the gods not once believed that there is a heaven.
And so the ice-queen slices the question in half;
something to always contradict, while sarcasm points to a laugh.
The violinist accuses the vengeful crocodiles
of murdering the sky, nature herself shall return with a hateful smile
a bluesman playing the saxophone,
should turn Greek gods into foaming apparatus telephones.

 

 

© Charlie Zero and How a pink unicorn drank absinthe from Superman’s Heart, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and How a pink unicorn drank absinthe from Superman’s Heart with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.