Posted on

ECHOES

 

juncture /

in

from slaver cut cold wind

I too am the spook aloof

who sat at bipolar doors

deep in obsidian forests

on stranger nights

exhaling dense chords of knowing

worthy of the calm warm madness that is my being

betraying thought form shepherds

pleading for your soul with the promise as you sleep

wet worked silver screen blackmailing meme queens

&

remote viewed my multiple selves in horror

&

bliss

 

copyright 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s