I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
"O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend /The brightest heaven of invention,/ A kingdom for a stage, princes to act /And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!" --William Shakespeare, The History of Henry V, Prologue, Scene 1, lines 1-4
By D. J. Reddall4 months ago in Poets
Defend those you love Especially when they fall What else does love mean?
How much pain and horror and foolishness Have you watched with silent indifference? Fascists laughing as they children oppress
Why didn't they see it coming? The signs of rot and corruption were vivid, unmistakable Who could possibly have been oblivious to the steady slide south?
The wet November asphalt is waiting The streetlight looks at it skeptically Its naïve optimism is grating When you have seen what autumn nights can be
Chatbots flatter us They suckle at eye udders Attention gluttons
Red pages published By quiet, wooden presses Rivers read autumn
*Bob! How do you feel?* This thought was the first thing I became aware of, once I was able to pay attention to anything other than the muck.
By D. J. Reddall5 months ago in Horror
When your own army Bothers your citizenry Your state's sclerotic
By D. J. Reddall5 months ago in Poets
How they will scold you about the danger Human connections are our primary concern, upon them we rely For every aspect and ingredient of our flourishing: social, economic, cultural
The veil between worlds Thins, and there you are; I am Surprised by envy
Their trembling does not betoken fear Raw and roiling pleasure licks them dirty Myths and legends made them dread time here
