When the words
All run together
And the apostrophes
Look tired.
When the asterisks
Are snowflakes
And your work is
Uninspired
It's time to gather
Up your kit
& time to rest
Your head
When you see
The page begin
To peel...

it's time to go to bed!


G'night all!

yep, i should feel
jealous, you've been
somewhere in the world
and sent a postcard
and got a sun-tan
and ate some exotica's worth
of food...
         me?
           i just went into a part
of my mind, that i never
knew existed...
  and just became impatient
with my buttocks,
sitting in a chair, with the so-called:
ants-in-my-pants;
both stances are clearly deserving
applause...
   only that the latter,
                gets all the laughter.

What is a poem but a maze of powerful words
that only the poet can truly understand
What is a poet but a man
a pencil in his hand
with every word he engraves upon her skin
he is pulled further
and further in
lost he is no more
left at the mercy of her soul
forever adrift in his words
her words
her

***** is not high on the list
pain and confusion not welcome

does it make you humble
when you listen to the ideals of the young?

come closer to death
by coming closer to life

no one is going to understand you fully
your a mystery even to yourself

does any of this matter?
are we making things count

poetry frees the poet
the poet needs freedom to love.