Lorraine The Wrighter

Strange Thoughts

  • But Not A Dummy

    I say what you say I say what you say I do what you do I do what you do I think what I think I think what you think You are always, always wrong How about you?

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  • The Internet as Palimpsest

    Alphabet circus Who’s this jerk? Is she Really originality or Reality at stake O’clock o’ the morning Won’t you give me some warning Ahead of time It’s coming It’s coming The flood better climb

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  • Ease

    I won’t write something pointless No the fuck I won’t I’ll write something commorient about commitment And then I’ll die alone I won’t write something bloodless I promise myself I won’t I’ll write about a period, if I have to To get that point across I won’t write something sinister With its moral greys and…

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  • Butcher U

    Oh baby how can I ever get you back, Unmet prayer, insidious invocation Aside, there’s a charm to getcha back Spells, I’m speaking as a witch And you stopped listening. Good. You don’t need to see my crystal skull, my rotten bones, my grey hairs or My caving teeth, you spoiled boy you meet Carbohydrates…

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  • Home Before Dark

    You will be presented, as an even trade, Childhood, for a free fall to the open grave You will have the choice, when presented, To be afraid To be wary at your post To be a-quiverin’ in yer boots. Soldier. It’s time, you’re a hospice nurse, Angelica. You’re a shining star, that’s what you’re worth.

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  • Midnight:25

    “Goodbye, twenty-five!”    Said Monica Ryan, she aged 25.364 years. The infection started in her eyes.  May she rest; in piece. 

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  • If you’re reading this…

    And you would like to hear a story, ay? A turn-o-tale for the tactless fancies Of the fisherman’s glitter scales, be gay and do crimes – The types of stories that I’d bear If you with only half a heart to care And half a mind to listen, for the lost And weary travelers of…

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  • This is not a political poem

    How right I am won’t prove me wrong How left behind you see my mind Won’t silence any song I have a throat For singing, for singing is my kind Of speaking with my friends and brothers Oh my lovers Love is mind

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  • 22. wet tears on my face

    I am asked to describe it. Not by someone, by a book I picked up to tell me what to do. Something needs to do that. Always. That’s what it feels like. Someone has to tell me what to do with my face. Always. It will lead to that. It will.

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  • Will it last?

    My eyes are watering and I can not see, there’s been this very persistent pounding in my heart, my hands. My head. I took some pills to fall asleep. Why isn’t anyone attracted to me? I’m drowsy and falling asleep in my bed, isn’t there someone who wants to hold my heart? I know that…

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