Stale Mate

I’m watching you watch me

There’s something in this water

You refuse to speak

I’m tuning in

But you’re on the out

I wanted to stay

You threw me out

You were my whiskey

I was your plate

You were my love

I was your?….


Owl Of The South

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Seems Like A Zoo

The Daily Post- ZOO 

Walking a famous street

Wild energy feels subdue

Everyone screams here

They like to call this Moulin Rouge

But this seems like a zoo

Drunken chatter

Laughter and loud gestures

This is heaven’s hell

Stampedes of women carrying their woes

For the sake of pimps swallowing women’s prides

And from her cage she watches the show

Beer bottles cling

Cigar smoke rising

A little bit of sex and smeared lipstick

Just little bit of crying

The world spins as she points her toes

Silly glares and pointed noses

Everyone has opinions

As well as having their place in this hole

While she thrusts her hips to the music blaring

All she could care of is the would be more

She watches them fall to the pavement

They watch her explore on the floor

They paid for admission

A price for the lesson learned

© Keota Picou “Owl of the South”

The Blackest Boots

If she’s a little exhausted of a type like you…

She might just take a walk in her favorite boots

Through the dust as they fall

Kicking the rocks in the sand

Grinding her heels into the sockets of skulls

Relieving the destruction of man

Humans..

Verboten hands

Just like the disease in children

They wish they can

Sometimes you need a demon to smite a monster

At times you need lava to smother the flames

Here she laces her boots

Over and over again

Written by Keota Picou

Echoed by Owl of the South

Sunrises are romantic and soft

Late October mornings feel like arms around my waist

The early sky whispers in my ears

All the answers to reflections I question

I wondered if this cloud knew

Sunsets are passionate and wild

Like a caress on the neck

Something more than a bite on the lip

The night wind chills my skin

Just like the trails of a lover’s finger nails as they pull me in

I bet the moon feels our secrets

I see the crows like to watch

I know the wolves can hear me sing

And my lover chants to the owls for mercy

I will not choose the universe’s sunrises or sunsets

That perfect seventh hour found me

And I intend to be fair

I remember that need

Waking up to morning dew on the skin

Feels like love

Which is the most righteous sin

By Keota Picou

Photo Source

Dubious

The Daily Posts Dubious


A ha! If there is one word to describe my actions it would be dubious. Such as believing the sweet nothings of the rolling stone variety. At the moment, I laugh at myself for being so idiotic. But it isn’t funny at all, is it? I feel it’s a bit too early to pour myself some Black Magic Rum. Either way, I have to explore it at this point. Me, dubious as I continued to walk through his door. Him, dubious as he looked in the mirror. But that never stopped a lie. 

I should’ve charged. Thieves lose hands every night. He’s probably laughing hysterically- belly filled with poison devoured from tongues. There I tore the pages and ate them. There is no more soreness. Some shiny apples are rotten at the core. Little girls better grow up and learn. Savagery and low vibes hide high. But boomerangs continue to deliver. Deep within the marrow he knows..

That his mask will either melt or mold. And both are most certainly the heart break he gave generously.

Photography by E.J. Bellocq