Anthony Charles King Biography
this dribble that i pass off as poetry you must understand that it needs to come out. as bad as it is. for to keep such nonsensical ramblings in would put me deeper down the 'well of madness' where i spend most of my time trying to crawl out of....and usually each'poem' is never changed. it is as i wrote it. unedited and also bad. usually written in a hurry and without much attention.. so forgive me dear readers if you happen upon my scriblings....
i first saw you on that summer sunday
ravens dancing in your wild hair
the warmth of the sunny sun sun upon us
as death smiled
...
that rainy morning
shrouded in sweet darkness
i lit the fire and let the flames discover your beauty
...
art is the offspring of sadness and suffering
monochramy
...the beaten beggar
...syphylic prostitutes
...
it seems a necessity in life....
of life....
in moral confusion.
of simian possesion..
...
why do we scribble so....
dear poets
alone
weeping ink into the void
...
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7/26/2025 2:29:56 AM # 1.0.0
