October 8th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
That’s right, get your shoes and socks on, people: it’s time once again for me to approach on bended knee (you try that – it’ll ruin your pants, I tell you … ) and beg, with great, big, brown puppy-dog eyes, for you to consider, with an appreciation approaching worshipfulness, my 6th and final, kinda-sorta annual, calendar offering.
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October 4th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
I’ve heard ’em all, sir. Every one.
The cheating wife, the stubborn son,
the stupid boss; the kitchen sink.
You take a seat, order a drink
and, soon enough, you lend my ear
to troubles soaked in scotch and beer
One mug, two mug, three mugs tossed
straight down the hatch: hell with the boss!
You’ll learn that boy. You’ll kick his ass;
replace your wife with some young lass.
You pound the bar and slap my arm.
Bleary and weak, you’d bet the farm
your new friend (me) can cure all ills.
In sooth reverse: you pay my bills.
September 28th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
Helpless head
ever in thrall
Beneath the flesh
a fireball
The skull is but
a porous wall
that can’t contain
the raging squall
of imagination
consensual
September 26th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
Through the layers
of chronos’ skin
we hunt for meaning
and space within
but every step
ignored and thin
is where it ends
where it begins
The only moment’s
the one we’re in
September 16th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
September 4th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
Because the world
sleeps, I dream
and consequently,
pass, unseen
August 27th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
As I continue to submit to the ubiquitous Facebook STD (Socially Truncated Discourse), so too have I continued my practice of creating alternate avatars:
August 13th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
I don’t know
but man
it’s like
for me
the deal is
I gotta get
into the
out of
my mind state
to like
be there
without
being there
and then
it’s like
you know?
Yeah.
August 10th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
August 8th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
They said he was from Japan and that accounted for his funny accent but it was clear to me he weren’t no Japaner. They said his metal body was the result of wounds he’d received in a war or some such but I never believed that, not for one minute. Who ever heard of such a thing; a metal body?
He wasn’t a this earth, I tell you, not even this time, maybe. Sell my mother if it aint true.
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August 1st, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
Don’t expect to see a buncha flower images from me all of a sudden. Flower photos are like love poems: everyone has one and they all stink.
Or something like that.
Anyway, this is mine: crocus, I think. A nasty pop-culture infection has that name conjuring up memories of a bad Sweet cover: it’s, it’s the ballroom blech!
Peash out.
July 27th, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
A&W Rootbeer (or was it Shasta soda? some other company?) had at least one commercial in the early seventies featuring clips of early automobiles crashing into each other around the notion of the beverage’s excessive foaminess.
For some reason, these commercials really struck a nerve in me and, though I was never much of a soda fan, I developed an early appreciation for vintage vehicles – particularly ruined ones; the less intact they are, the more riddled with rust, the more interested I become.
This old water tanker rests picturesquely in the front yard of my girlfriend’s rented house. It took me a couple of months but I finally crawled out there with a camera.
Snat!
July 21st, 2011 by Corey A. Edwards
