.. t.o.emz


A fine mess of you sprawled into my mucus as would

I koff into 7 am without mercy

And still come to me

In 8:30 am and asks

“Please make me coffee, my love.”


All artworks by Artsydude

Poetry by O.a.M

All rights reserved by XenoPhagz


Ode to mornings

Once upon a purple moon,

All grounds were bought from a store,

Which the bucks were really quality star.

Of its ground sold everywhere, I loved it then.

Now I have to bare a granule of a tablespoon

only which to pour on a cup of mornings

that start my body to shake and shiver,

Only to deliver from 2 to 5 pieces of work.

Albeit to my hands,

It will starts like no other.

Only stressed emotions sparks all over

when this caffeinated mind works over.






Express me a coffee when it’s diluted by my own additives.

Of its beans that grinds my gears,

Of its grain that makes my nose tingle,

To the black water that makes me shiver,

From its aroma an elixir that only gods know how to make use.

Then after that taste of life does make sense, a bitterness that makes it sweet.

Only sugar and creamer sometimes makes it diluted with all of its robustness.