I looked her weary way
She saw my wary eyes
She turned away …
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
At some point there was a point
That point is no longer sharp
The blade that once pierced my mind
Now places its cold edge against my heart
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
You are the white and the black of me
We are all the colors in between
The white is frosting
The black is cake
The colors in between are the candles
We are the flame
Make a wish
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
As my mind started to kick-in I got a whiff
The smell of a rich Columbia brew
My Grandpa was a Jew and so was my Mom
My Mom married a Protestant
A good brew
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
As my mind started to kick-in I got a whiff
The smell of a rich Columbia brew
My Grandpa was a Jew and so was my Mom
My Mom married a Protestant
A good brew
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
Once there was this guy
He sat around; He stood-up and even walked around
Sometimes when the sun started to set, he would hitch a ride
He would go where most people would not dare
He did not have much hair
Well you see … that was only up there
In the places he went … there were no combs
And he had no hair
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Was all bright and warm
Ran around a cold pond
A structure of knowledge
It had all the ground
Hope abounds …
for a few coins in the pond
I (WE) habituated a few clicks away
At lust we think that way
Cast a line in looking for a strike
A hit on this and then a hit on that
Got a bite … it wiggled off
Some where too big to reel in
Did I use the right bait
Maybe I would look better in a hat
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
What does it feel like to feel old
Does it feel out of touch
Does it make us bitter
I wonder if I ever felt too young
I could have made a difference?
I could ramble on about things that then mattered
But, I don't remember
I do, remember, how to take a breath
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
It has been a while since I touched you
I have had this terrible head that aches
The birds are now singing
The light was trying to make its point
I reached for a new lump of comfort
I keep two
One is fresh and smells so good
The other is not bad
Then I felt your face
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
I remember hearing about a way of writing a poem that was called free verse
Not so much about a poem as it was a style
I am pretty sure you weren't suppose to use punctuation and all that stuff … you were just supposed to ... type or write and let it flow ....
I just got up from my writing
Looked in the mirror
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC