http://slow.writerscafe.org/dploeser The original writings of author oh my en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775428096 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 D Staring into the concentric light of the insect disturbance;Daring to spot the brain poolwith the random chariot of God,The worm moans its spotted fate.Into the cottoned peel of a black orange the small boy peers.How long must the plastic leg spring into the eye of the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dploeser/2783277/   Wandering passed,Passed wandering.Passed the prunes of my tarantula garden.Boat orange and lemon splatter the legs of the beast.Clean claws,Injection complete.Random attacks the sweet order of thought. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dploeser/2782870/ A PORN BRN A parade of corn marches past.Christ a Jew?Who are you?  the mayonnaise replies.Vegetable verbiage crackles and squeaks.As the elastic and garlic tumble,in delirious and elongated orgasms;The horseman looks on, but cannot perform.The saddle worn.Test.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dploeser/2782716/  A fake smile overs the eyes and conceals true feelings.Clean wrists, now stainedremain.Reminders of the past.Memories   linger  like the smell of booze.Booze that destroys thoughts, only to return in the morning.Haunting, covered by a fake smile. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dploeser/2782577/ F Up! Up!Higher! Higher!Away from the tangles of this worldly attachment,the sun-principle beckons forth the life-stuff from its inertial and leaden steady state.Onward! Forward! Upward!The God-dragon prods its machine, its instrument.Squealing, squeaking, squawking,the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dploeser/2782282/ Somnambulant visions persist,despite a wakeful vigilance.A splendid foolishness bursts forth.The rich-red flowing fire of neglected and abandoned desire,ignites the mind to far-flung spasms.Primal monsters grunt and screech.Vertical walls of wet stone echo from the abyss,the drunken violence of a to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dploeser/2782068/ I am sounding my song.it is a somber song.Yet sprinkled with colors,hopeful colors.Like the sparkling shards of pure color.refracted by the hexagonal prisms of theearly morning Siberian snow.Each, elegant, crystalline, fragile in hue.Each imbued with its own vision of hope.hope.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/dploeser/2781963/