If you think poetry is dead then your a dead beat - and that's not a dead beat poet, they unfortunately are almost all dead. But if nobody else will publish your work, don't sweat it cause we will.
And that doesn't mean we don't have standards, truth is we know that
they unfortunately don't. If you've written a poem that wont bore the reader into a coma - send
it to us and we will publish it here for you. That is as long as it doesn't have an aroma of regurgitated rhetoric clinging to it!
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Blood rushes the transparent doubt of anguish
Into which the foghorn blows
The blue moon calls you to mind
My love
A picture I seek
I never find
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In the morning of the midnight glare
I stare
Into the cold departed eyes of solitude
I loathe the expression of what I cannot see
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In a wilderness of pink and blue
Yellow and red do not exist.
The terms and conditions of normality
Dictate our lives like the cling wrap
Over my favorite sandwich keeping it fresh
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Twitching itching I carve
Provoke taunt stir insane
Into the abyss of manic drain
Twitching itching I carve
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