Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I filled a slew,
yellow lined tablets
vomited ink, the upchuck
of tortured faux poets
that cannot sleep,
the maniacs that pace
while the world recharges
its batteries

sleep deprived and driven
manic maserati
weaving in and out of trees,
forest of obstacles
the mighty oak, the majestic
sequoia, old patterns rooted
determined dirt

each pad a section of life
tossed in a box
one on top the other
rings of understanding
or lack there of, piled
layers of compost
layers of humanity

sumo acrobats
contradictions in terms
cardboard coffins
recycled wisdom
boxes of crinkled urine
the guts of insomnia,
spilled on dirty sheets

keep em coming, mr. saw

yes

praise of cat piss on

high praise in deed
I liked it a lot too.

all my writing in boxes with cat pee
my best critic...those yellow days

I like how the images were swept up in it,
they say it is not a party sight to see how sausage is made, maybe that is also true for poetry.

Fresh poetry sprouting from the decadence and decay maybe.
Maybe I need to get some sleep

sorry for the ramble having too much fun here maybe

maybe I have to give up sleeping... ! great poem!

one of your best, Saw.