Archive for December, 2013

These words
carry no meaning
my meaning
carries the words
as it drips & drops
across each verse.

The title
a great director
directing light
for reflection
of suffering
in lapses
as time passes

The wastes of life
nebulous gasses
of dreams no more
left wandering spirits.

Perpetual flux
of language shifts
reason buried
internal rhyme.

We see no color
from outside
it all resides
inside the mind
no matter
being blind.

Here I am now
now am I here?


Always felt out of place, here on this flat earth.
Could not be comfortable in my own skin, never fitting in what-ever phase.
A puzzle piece looking for its puzzle.
Every time I thought I had found it, I/d discover the puzzle was missing a few pieces, and I/d have to start the search anew.
But there was this time…
I was doing volunteer work at a Salvation Army in Akron, Ohio.
As I am standing there, passing out canned goods to Akron’s impoverished community, I thought to my self,
This is the first time, in a long time, I can honestly say, that I could be doing nothing better with my time, than what I am doing right here at this very moment.
There are two other moments when I feel I am where I am meant to be:
when overcome by the fever to write something out of my head,
when I am lying next to the girl I love in my bed.
Charity, art, and love…
Everything else is a waste of my time.
And probably yours too.
Merry Christmas you artsy-fartsy bastards.

this is how
the end appears
an epiphany
before a dream
hurt we dance

pray & break
apart in a
bed of dirt
be-low cover
lost lover
of the dark
truth terrified
there to find
between the sheets
whenever we
speak behind
the lines shifting
with the sands
of time
all is left
giving life
to memory
not knowing
who or what
how to where
the distance
too far
to travel back
only to
is no more
is no more
is no more.

Thick Skin

Posted: December 20, 2013 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,


Broke the spines of flesh tomes like sticks
As thick as thieves they got their tricks

Spinning a web until you/re caught
The one route out is only bought

She sold my soul so I would stay
Ain/t so easy the better way

Quick to start but slow to begin
It/s hard to move restricted skin


Posted: December 19, 2013 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

someway it
mends itself
heaven sends
until then

frayed nerve ends
signals bend
along with time
we stupid spend

& just praise
your lord for
an unopened tin
of suboxone.

Hard honesty
amid lies
some have trouble
even when
they try to say
is alright

here tonight
stretching skin
to snap out
of disguise
do not think
some will like
what we find.

Who will die 
place a wager
next dead sexy
Heath Ledger
skinny jeans
pleas for help
fuck you up
what most say
ain/t what it means
we are just here
to put a smile
on someone’s face
friends falling
 faster than
bombs dropped

in America’s
war on drugs

cluster fuck

prison prophets
just the products
of private profits

broke the poor
spiritually bankrupt
afford no more.

…greed shall drain all color from the human experience–


There was once a man that lost both his legs.

Every night he/d dream that his legs were still there.

He/d be running down the streets and through the green yards of his neighborhood, as he once did, as a child.

He told me,
I have to spend the first part of every morning, forgetting the dream, no matter how real it seems, and get back on with the reality.

You must dread nightfall, for it brings the dreams,
I told him.

Quite the opposite. The fact that I might run again, though it may be a dream, is what gets me through the day, he told me.

I swear prose plays optical tricks on us.

Seeing words that are not there.

That is why I like verse so much.

I enjoy breaking the lines
in claustrophobic

I lose my self
when words
are bunched
too close


Envies the sun because
it brightens her day

Jealous of the moon for it
gives her a light in darkness

Despises skies that lay
over top of her

Detests the stars for falling
though never granting wishes

someone IS watching YOU

Where ever you go

Who ever you are with

Every body you will know

Through this life;
unto its death

When drawing last breath

they are remembering

The times in the rye,

One in the name of love

Whose thoughts,
been turned by touch

You will miss it,
if you blink

Do not ever think

No body is watching you