Where is my muse today?
I stare out windows at the grey
Wasteland filled with rain.
Where did the fervor go?
   Did it fly away,
To rain sodden trees,
   To fall and quench clay,
From budding twigs and stunted
    Leaves?
Where is the fire today?
Lifes cold, so dull and plain.
If I pray for warmth, will it stay,
Or be extinguished by the rain?
Where is the vigor,
   That filled my days in youth?
Why won't it manifest in adult figure?
   Was it exhausted by the search for truth?
Truth, what is it?
Is it found in flowers,
Or does each man write his own,
Sitting in a shady bower?
Truth, what is it?
   Will I find it if I pray?
So many questions, and here I sit.
   Where is my muse today?
I stare out windows at the wasteland,
Rain sodden trees, stunted leaves, all
   Grey,
Life made of clay, and will, to
   Undersand,
Questions posed by a spring day.

im sinking slow,

i confide in a mattress,

with a drink and my soul.

i feel far from your heart,

can't commit to be heartless.

every sun is your sun,

every star was once ours,

now neither appear,

i'll never know who you are.

where hate ain't between us,

and my soul stands still,

from a sad seat of rust.

where seas of time stand rough,

when skins aren't just weapons,

just to justify us.

i can't see you in moonlight,

but i'll catch you in the rain.

only spoken words can keep me sane.

I'm attracted to the cosmic
Have been since my youth

Both in hope and fear
Eliade's truth

I am not a saint
But he said I was a gift

I like Rothko paint
My dad gave him a lift

Alas, the death obsession
Help me gentle go

One man come he to justify
One man to overthrow

          Yoko yo yo!

it's dark
mist on the glass
fog in my brain

Obsessive compulsive disorder
Yes, I got that too

16000 poems
What would Jesus do?

Just can't stop the flow
Paris rendezvous

Coming in at night
But coming back to you

              Be true.

caged birds
never knowing flight
swing instead

I want to write poetry
like a confession that I’m bleeding
like blood that I’m crying
like a heart’s cry that I’m singing
like it’s a love song that I’m feeling
like it’s a feeling that I’m fighting
like it’s a fight I’m welcoming
like it’s a welcome I’m inviting
like it’s an invite I’m opening
like I’m open and amazing
I want to write amazing poetry
like I’m reading some famous poet
and that poet in me