I can’t do boring
I need the chaos,
the strange,
the passionate,
the irrational.
I need the adventure.
It fuels me.
Nothing else is
satisfactory.

i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.

You, with words of beauty,
speak in softer tones
where volume is not required
because vibrations
bring to light the meaning

Even if remaining quiet
calms the fears
drifting along your heart

Feelings still shout
in actions shown,
leaving only words unsaid
to speak the true meaning
of the silence