http://slow.writerscafe.org/Teodor The original writings of author Ted en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776047020 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 You should die like Sylvia PlathYoung and beautifulYou should die walking on the beach bare footBut baby, you want to die an old hagYou’re searching your purseFor regrets and pillow talkFrom the dead last nightThat purse is your trapYou can't even find yourself in thereI say, take your cyanide.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1277498/ I get drunk in the mornings,I dress up in the eveningsTo attend the funeralsI turn headsThey whisper and nod“Good God, he reeks of Grey Goose!” But I don't careI just shake the cold handand bid him farewell‘Cause in the morningI have my own undertakerTo love and to cherish,Till dea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1277497/ You might die tomorrowOf too much coffee intake20 starbucks a daySleeping with the woman you've been hating for 20 yearsOr wildly criticizing the establishmentYou might die tomorrow At the hand of thoseYou love,Of too much healthy foodDay to day worryOr night to night boredomYou might fell in love.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1277494/ Here, there is no poetryHere, where the blue Danube meets the Black Seait ain't no poetryonly gun smokeand shattered heartsmay rise from the groundthe only poetrycomes from the muzzlefrom the knifethe swords the overwhelming povertythe crushing desperationHere, were Alexander marched glori.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1227503/                                           Don't kill the poets, not tonightWaste the novelists,But please, please spare the poetsSpare the poetsWith their prete.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1227488/                                                                       You know, it is as easy.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1225019/ Wicked waywardwoman A classy lady onhigh heels Wanders throughthe cemetery “These shoes arekilling me”, She says, Suddenly A black catcrosses her wayward path “Is that youBilly?” she asks “Still stalkingme huh? Wel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1223972/ Sometimesdeath whispers to meAtthe telephoneWhenI’m in a conversationShewhispers and she’s breathing hard SometimesI think at night, of deathIt’slike I am in love with herListeningto love songs,Readinglove poems .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1223970/ The streets naked andleft in dejection,Filled with despair Cigarettes ash on thesidewalk embedded in our souls Buddhist monks ridingmotorcycles on a highway leading to nowhere And in the middle ofthese streets I see a man whispering:Today I shall not .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1223968/ It's five o'clock in the afternoon,The nuclear bombingHasn't begun yetThe rulers of this worldAre having cheap whiskeys And flavored cigarettesAt the bar next door.It is the dawn of the humanityAnd the dusk of mythologyOrSimply, the other way aroundThe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1223089/ You wake up, almost comatoseDrooling on your laptop, tabletIpad, iPod, iphoneEyes staring dead at the TV screen You get up and you’re remindedOf the vile taste of tap waterThe suffocating  city smogThe malicious, crisp, dry ,devoid scent of life.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1222533/ The crows in my head often seek a good psychotherapist They often b***h about the weather The earth too high The sky too low And the rain and heavy snowfall is killing them the crows passing by the window don't really take pleasure in reading my poems they say "bitching" is not really poetic We have.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1221078/ Poetry is alive tonightI might grab ya’ and knock you downOr it might dance you to exhaustion Poetry is alive tonightIt dances to the beatYou just can't ignore it Poetry is mighty alive tonight,It will brawl with the men at the barIt migh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1215383/ Itwas something new for him. Not only the fine sand brushing on his cheeks, butthat smell of gun smoke, hot sand and ocean breeze. He looked around andlistened as if he wanted to remember all the details of the landscapes: thehills, the streets of the city, the bumpy road and his comrade.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/1210382/ The night was dampThe judge’s voice had a soft crackleLike on a an old record, played inAnd out, till music, silence and gramophoneBecame one “You look like you could use a good cup of coffeeYour honor”I spoke boldly in my defense,&ldq.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/820263/ She had come right out of the conventand with her high heels and classy polka dots dressshe preached her gospel in cheap dirty old bars.I saw her then sitting at a tableso I asked“How come you gospel your way in fancy clothesIn this dirty bar?”And then she answered softly with a wisdom f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Teodor/796307/