gossip and filth spewed from their faces
making them look as though there were traces
of a shotgun blast to the head.
their words made no less vial
for being just words, task to trial
their next victim fell withered and dead
bitter swords they wielded
around their ice as they fielded
another cocktail of bitter poison they drank
a little gossip, so harmless and ultimately sad
to postulate vomit from the mouth of this cad
although words, no less words, they stank


written for Readwritepoem image #1

bossio  retrospective of a myth

bossio retrospective of a myth

don’t go, autumn

don’t go
don’t take the winter
made warm by her touch
don’t take the spring
that haunts me still
don’t take the summer
that burned
don’t take the fall
i was healing in
trees bare and haunting
cold, so cold here
don’t go
also read write prompt #49: mission, echolalia