Stupid bug
On my bed
Go crawl on the
Floor, instead.
I already have buzzing
Inside my head

Burrowing beetle
Thoughtflies hum and
Make no sense
Buzz buzz buzz

Twinkling lights-it’s
Almost dawn
Neighbor’s cat yowls
On my lawn
-You’re nearly in my hair
Come closer if you dare
Ill squish you, bug, I swear

Carry on, bug
Carry on



I actually don’t mind bugs, but when you’re trying to fall asleep, a green yellow beetle who wants to sing you the song of his people is not a good roommate.

Dream Psychology (My Apologies to Freud) 

Dream Psychology (My Apologies to Freud) 
I don’t suppose you could put

The meaning of life in a nutshell

– the meaning of life in a bookshelf, though… 
Seems an entirely plausible venture 

After all, you can only study human anatomy 

Best, in the city of bones 

It’s not even tunnel vision, in 

Keeping with the fundamentals of physics, when 

You focus solely on that, of mice and men

– and what then? 

A treatise of biology? 

The surgeon, the apprentice, the fallacy?

The third twin, the imposter, a philosopher’s stone

Seen through a golem’s eye, a man made of stone 

Lemons and lemonade, defiance 

The Bible, the Quran, and Science

The ideal woman, Karl Marx- a feast for crows 

The art of war, the centaur, and selected prose 

Salome, Wuthering heights, the picture of Dorian grey 

The haunting of Alaizebel cray?

-Whose image can I find? 

What is the sum of these stories,

The damned recollections of all lost

Human kind? 

Nested upon each other, dimensions, ideas 


The meaning of life is hidden here, in this

Wooden house of pomegranates 

Day Ten! Today’s prompt is to make a poem out of the titles on your bookshelf. My apologies for the higgledy-piggledy write! Got a bit tough, too many textbooks. And nothing about ISC Mathematics is poetic! 😕

Caught Grey Handed

Caught Grey Handed

I saw you, I saw you
Did you think no one knew?
When you’re in line, you can’t hide
The things that you do
Everyone has to wait their turn
To stay occupied
Some talk, some play games
Some whine and gripe
And some, like you, think no one knows
That they’re digging for gold
Inside their nose
And you pulled it out and stuck it there
Under a chair
With a sideways glance
She didn’t see you, but I did
Although she would’ve been rendered askance
If she’d known
She carried your dirty deed away
On the seat of her pants


I saw you, Mister Guy-In-The-Line. And I’m telling… :p :p