meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Your Next New Dying Black Swan



The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Informed Through Pain

Sometimes In Losing I Have Gained A Lot

A Man Of The Clouds

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past

Accountants

Shrine

Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre

Dragons

Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself

TONIGHT

I WILL RETURN

Silver-Tongued Devil

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

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Afterwards...


usually I feel better
mostly
only afterwards

writing is akin to
an aching
an opening up of the wound
a blood-letting
to release poisons
into torrents of words

disappointment
frustrations
everyday hurts
they take their toll

some poisons are more effective
because they seem to choose me
why do I let them chose?

who in their right mind
would choose poison
its not as if almonds
improve the complexion of the mind

but
here is my sweet sip
a-bubble
in its pretty blue cup
the one with swaying blue willows

drinking it up
for me
really
isn't much of a choice

why then
would I even choose?



LEGAL copyright for this poem
and also for this writer
and also for this legally copyrighted
site Title: Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World.
7:23am pst after one very long night





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