Clauses In Catacombs

CLAUSES IN CATACOMBS

dream waves lash against my uninspired head
gashes of bloody thoughts gush
fantasies of flowery fountains floundering in my fickleness
condiments of chaotic cadences cooking in my cauldron of collections
am i a poet or a writer?

with written words writhing in wrong wreaths
woven wishes in winsome words under wraps for world-weary women
singing sing-song serenade for soul-searching spinsters
and bachelors believing blooms blossom in blues
am i a poet or a writer?

setting up silly alliterative sentiments
who cares where when and what I wear
is it the toga of triumph or that of trepidation?
let me write and writhe and wriggle in wrong words
am i a poet or a writer?

cooking condiments of chaotic concoction

thanks dear,
i really appreciate your words.

may i ask: do you also
cook[ing[ condiments of chaotic concoction?

am happy,
but i know i still have a long way to go,

no dear, but i long to be published.
i have over a hundred poems
begging for cold print,

can you be of help?