like a bull rushes at a matador, a poet rushes at his metaphors, it’s between man and beast, the crimson beats of a poet, with dust at his feet. Animal instinct, talent is extinct.
Peter Yowie Poetry
Month: October 2022
I put all my heart and soul into becoming a man who loves women, but there’s always some genius and his law of bisexuality
last night’s drug dealer on the street corner had something that would knock my socks off and the further I walked away from him the lower the price became. With the glint of foil came the spoils of the underworld. He was just another fallen angel selling danger. I’ve already been down the rabbit hole and I don’t plan on going down it again.
A poem a day keeps the doctor away, a possum on the roof keeps the neighbours awake, self compassion never goes out of fashion. Tonight someone handed me a green ghost, a one hundred dollar note and I eloped with whisky and dope. I offered him my sofa to crash on but he disappeared back to the backpackers, leaving behind a black canvas bag and pair of doc marten boots. He wants to take a look at the suits in men’s suit warehouse. Sometimes it’s brute force, sometimes it’s tender mercies.