gore (Remove filter)
Limbs
The trees are flesh made.
Gauntly etched to form gangrenous limbs,
Skeletal fingers lacing outward
For the heavens.
Nails,
A multiplicity of fungal greens
That curl and sway about the breeze.
The trees are flesh made,
Blood racing within barcomulch veins
Wednesday 25th October 2017 6:06 am
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Prayer for the Little Ones
4 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on Prayer for the Little Ones
30 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
35 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
50 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Fallen Leaf
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
2 hours ago
Yanma Hidayah on The heart that waited
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SUPPORT GENOCIDE ACTION I OPPOSE PALESTINE ACTION
2 hours ago