Silly Poem – The Truth

Is the truth to be measured? Does it matter how much of all of it is the bit that is true? Or is it okay just to believe – in all of the bit of it and all of the rest? Copyright owned by Jay Cool, October 2019 Image by PDPics from Pixabay Savvy Style…

Hypocaust

In the middle, I stand, pushing down my insides, is to be whooshed over and over; whooshed by the waves, emanating up from the soles of one’s feet; tidal waves, quick and sudden; humongous waves that cross over one’s bowels,  stomach and heart, crushing them together into a bouncing ball, up and churning it   …

Exonerated

False. All made up. All made up and fixed up. All the words that blow out of my mouth. All bubbles, airborne and popping, leaving nothing. No untruths, no fairy tales, no collaborative cock-up with Putin. All filled up, popped up and emptied, I leave you with my nothingness. An empty space –     …