by Patrice Clarkson | Dec 5, 2018 | My Musings, Poetry
The hall is narrow The ceiling falling down My way to the living room Can’t be found. A method of cooking fills Mouldy kitchen air Where cabinets hang Feeling no loving care. Nothing to clean away Night terrors experienced In a cluttered bedroom Where sleep is...
by Patrice Clarkson | Aug 6, 2013 | Poetry
Power onload going by Flying high High in the magic surreal blue sky. Don’t wonder why Just wonder what has pass by. While you were fiddling With that decadent Mouldy land-locked piece of shit pie. ~ Patrice © Patrice Clarkson –...
