Ted Sheridan Poems

True Horror is Truth
Can you handle the horror
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Note: “I don’t call myself a poet, because I don’t like that word. I call myself a trapeze artist.” —Bob Dylan
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somewhere in my darkness there was a spark
today it ignited rare thoughts of you
only seconds before....
I had stuck the cold barrel of a gun
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The noisome breath of his unbridled hatred
wilts even the healthiest of Life's vines
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Bang Bang! Bang Bang!
'Your dead', shouted Jimmy
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Last night I fixed myself
a much needed drink
an 'adult beverage'
with two ice cubes
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The end was near___
His dying words were being silenced
by a Fascist nurse
who was always pulling the plug on him....
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With my eyes
affixed on her shapely body
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Sitting with his back to the wall
bushy tail took a break from it all
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Caged by a love we could have prevented
We imprisoned ourselves with each others limitations
Our love that had been put in motion
By both a place and time
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