Porcelain Bus/A Thousand Poems

My head is in the toilet bowl,

spewing out poem after poem.

When will this flow of emotion,

chunks and fluid,

come to an end.


My only wish is

when it does stop,

I don't continue making these poems.


Why!?! These are so good!

When creativity stops, effort is put forth.

Then is when my poems will really

turn to barf baggie fillings.


I know what I just said,

is what I just said.

But if you read this,

take my advice.

Never force it,

stop typing.

Unless you mistype.

Then, you can stop.


Oh no here it comes again.


A spark of light.

Brighter than a thousand suns.

It illuminates you like the sun does the world.

And only if you pay attention.

Do you see the filth

you must wash from your body and soul.

It is too much for the average person to bear.

But it is not enough for me to devour into the power of a thousand poems.

And if I do get to a thousand poems.

I hope I'm heard.

I don't want fame.

But I will accept it with open arms.


Just let it be known.

Sticks and stones break your bones,

but these words can always heal you.

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