Bored at work

I happen to get to work early most days. Well recently it was really early when people weren’t really doing anything. So I started off my day writing two poems. (Or at least one on each day.) It seemed work out well. The two poems were Still and Voicing, personally I prefer Still but both came out alright in my opinion.




I post my voice across

the audience for effect

– but only the bones groan

in the sweaty seats.


Some can subtly sweep across

the crowd with flute music.

A scented whisper that runs

through the walls, and whets

the contented faces.

Splayed before the stage.


I tremble at the lectern

jutting out of the ground

like a question mark.

I watch the pages through

my glasses. They turn

and fold into pure energy

in my hands.


My head lights up with

staccato shrieks of

bridled paranoia. My words

turn into worms that wind

their way into through the legs


– and slowly into the collected craniums.

piled before me.





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