I told my mother I found out
love is not what people say it is
in the leather-bound books
or the virtual screens today.

They say we should fall in love
with the idea of love and
"happily ever after"
will be until the end of our days.

My mother replied to me,
“Tell me son, what is love
in your eyes then?
What is love to your heart?”

My muttered answer to my mother
was, “What makes my heart race,
and what makes my heart sink,”
as if it should make sense to her.

Surprisingly, her reply to me
was this, “Don’t define love, son,
It is too powerful to define.
Let love define you—

That is where the true power lies.”

You spent endless time
at your desk in the sun porch.
After your diagnosis we
turned the porch into
your own personal scrapbook room.
I could tell you didn’t
think about your disease
when you were in there crafting
because of how focused
you always looked when at work;

lips puckered out, oblivious
to the commotion of our backyard.
You were granted God’s greatest gift
to see the end of your
days as you wished.
You did just that.
The memory of you lives on
in all those whose lives you touched.

When you left we didn’t
know what to do with
the overwhelming heap
of scrapbook materials
you accumulated over the years.

They took up too much space
that could be used for other things
like furniture and storage.
Plus, they were hard to
look at without being
swarmed with empty
thoughts and sadness. But,
we didn’t want all these
valuable accessories to go to
waste, forever forgotten.  

When it came to deciding
what to do with your
leftover supplies, we knew
we couldn’t toss them out.
We wanted them to carry out
their intended purpose
just as you would have
had time permitted.

The Ronald McDonald House
in Minneapolis had an unused room
they were looking to fill—
we knew that was it.
We donated nearly all your supplies
there and now that empty room
is a scrapbook room bearing your name;
carrying on an important piece of you
so other families can
craft memories into treasures—
just as I carry a treasured
piece of you wherever I go.

Four wood legs below me reinforce my rear
The suns rays sear off of this white haze called snow
A glum graveyard of brown surrounds my whole home
Two filthy cigarette butts are staring me in the eye
Like a cats eyes luminating in the middle of the night
And I’m wondering why I wonder these thoughts.
****, its hard to caress all the thoughts I possess.
Broken from bewilderment by a lone gray hare
I scared it and it scattered up the short, steep hill.

*Walks inside because the frost is nippin’ his nose

I just need something new to twist up my life,
But every time something comes even close
Imagination defeats reality and all hope is lost.
Trying to find even the slightest bit of hope
Is like picking hope out of a crowd of pick-it signs
Nearly impossible, but the sign is still out there.
Suddenly reminded of the graveyard of brown outside
I recall glancing at a row of three green pine trees
And realize, they keep life all year round
Even when times have grown cold
And fellow friends have lost life.
Knowing they will survive
They strive to keep hope.

A tranquil silence presides as night arrives and the moon begins to shine
Wolves stand upon rocks in their thick grey locks and howl at twelve o’ clock
An immutable drip from the precipitation slips and splashes upon a surface
as does a tear that gracefully falls from the face with a purpose.
Leaves occasionally rustle amongst themselves and the grass giggles
The margins of my brain begin to echo eerily to the rhythm of nothing,
like an acappella that is performed by a tone deaf woodpecker with no beak.
Stargazer’s eyes become mystified as they stare at the sleeping sky
watching the sea of stars twinkle to the beat of dead space.
Crickets crick a hook like they are stuck on one being used as fishing bait
A streaming river in the distance whistles a soothing, harmonious lull,
and the biting wind whispers mellifluously just like a flute
As closed eyes listen to an orchestra perform like that of a church,
and midnight is when the service begins.

The rebirth of our nation
rests in motion.
In a country mounted
on revolutionary (Freedom of) Speech
fear of falling off the balance beam
permeates our culture's streets
Rock bottom is visible.

The next step in a row of stones
might require more than a skip
but the heavy heart of resiliency
                         must persist,
preserve the embers that
burn in the enduring hand
of our Statue (of Liberty).

Cope with the wilted white flowers
Look to the rising sun
every morning it emerges with
tired eyes, sleeping flames,
garden beds greeted with mist.

Listen to the music of mighty mitochondria
Let the DNA of "bend don't break"
and swords of endorphins thrive
'til their final breath.

Fight unmerited power
with a rigid, rebellious fist
and a voice armed to the teeth
from the mouth it speaks.
Fight 'til the white of bone
and then some.

This is the long anticipated
wake-up call from Mother Gaia;
it comes in the form of tears.
Don't let them drown us,
create new
streams, rivers, lakes, and oceans
so they wave with every
spun cycle
of Earth's journey
around the sun
of a

I wander through the world
                to make my own math.
Maybe a kid with
ice cream will stumble
across my path one day
and venture the scene.

Brown grass and an
abundance of wheat,
mangled trees and
ice cube sun rays--maybe
something in between.

As a wayward
Purple Pincher Hermit Crab, I
float through ocean currents.
As a North coast coyote
sometimes I can't tell what I am.

Just wandering through
ice cold smoke, smoldering ash,
apple orchards, joyful torture,
dead rose gardens,       a thornyard,
a sunflower sanctuary. Serenity,

I wear no crown, no ermine cape,
I eat beetles and grasshoppers
off of a rusted plastic plate.

Sitting alone in a whirlwind
Black center and hail pellets
Scattered platters of food
Drowned out conversations,
mumbled spit up

Can't calm the angered nature
of broken class in a sheepish world
Twelve days until the broken
symphony sings in front of a
          tidal wave

Twenty four hours until yesterday
Spin cycle repeats deceit
What more is there than then?
When everything stops spinning
and the wind eats karma
for breakfast with Mother Nature
on Sunday morning.

The stereotype of the female type/ packing more than you give yourself credit for/
Spineless, backstabbing ******* in backless dresses fronting to impress dogs who are/
Barking at ******* that are easy to prey on/ hoping to get a good **** to sniff/
While your tail is out there waggin/ makin’ their tongues turn stiff/
There are many who live in that dog eat dog world/ And boy it can get pretty rough out there/ catch that innuendo?
You see, effing around is simple and it works like this; you F what you see/
Sometimes you find what you think to be ‘the one’ only to be deceived/
Because you believed what you saw and didn’t take the time to dig deep/
Next thing you know, your heart has been sunk in the pool of tears you weep/
You resort to a resolution to that’s easy to keep/ rectify to the erectified/
Yes, maybe some of this is harsh/ but if you cant handle the truth/
You wont know the difference between what’s right and wrong to do/
There’s a difference between a princess and a queen/
A princess who’s prince-less will settle for the frog/
While a queen knows how to stand on her own two feet/
Royalty is respected and they stand tough even when they’re rejected/
It’s hard to see something beautiful be used by a tool who’ll/
Only add her to the collection of his tool box/ then look for a new one/
But the reality of realism is/ reality can be pretty unreal sometimes/
And Miss Congeniality secretly believes the fallacy/ she wasn’t born to shine/
Selling herself at a price her mom would hate to see/
Giving out discounts because she can’t even count on herself/
The worst part is, it’s all manipulating her moral health/
And it’s demeaning her demeanor, being treated like Miss Demeanor/
But she didn’t mean for/ her life to turn to this/
She made three-left turns/ only to find the fourth right doesn’t exist/
Maybe a forthright person is all it takes to set her straight/
Boost her confidence/ make her feel great/ and tell her it’s never too late/
To find a new place to start over/ and get your mind in a better state/
That’s why this poem is called Tulip Teaser/ your own two lips are teasing you/
Impeding you from being you/ misleading you through your own garden/
But you’re better than that/ and there’s more to your garden than you think/
Just stick to your roots and let yourself grow to be the beautiful flower everyone likes to see/

When you make a garlic chicken
special guests are also essential
Cross sections and interior views
forged all manner of ancient

The name may evoke evening
Experiment with cucumber, watermelon
Do not imply the expression of any opinion
increase in normal and immunosuppressed

Make an irony-free living
but never in such proliferation
Prepare to be bowled over by porridge
or other library materials

covered with a blanket of clouds
The dead began to speak.

A broken guitar tells me to shut it
on every rest note.
And I tell myself to
ditch old baggage
on the side of the road
to clean my tattered knapsack
of cobwebs and broken light bulbs.

So I divest,

Decompress in present
because right now, I'm at peace.
You speak over church bells
at the top of the hour
and I listen like
nothing else matters.
But I only hear the future
My future, your future, our future
                    the world's future.

It's not often,
but every once in a while
midnight slaps me with a sound
I can't explain.
Even if I explain myself
I ramble around the point
like an arrow with no tip.

The weird thing about time
is it's a lot like music,
or a galaxy,
but right in the palm
of soft hands and ambitious souls
It only makes sense with experience,
and getting lost in a pavilion
of nervous butterflies
only seen in lucid dreams.

The world is old. We're young.
We're lost. And so is everyone else.
Tell me about your favorite constellation,
your favorite letter of the alphabet,
what makes you tick,
and why.

One day, after learning about your spectrum,
and where it intersects with mine
we'll dance in space.
I'll come to my senses
and question nothing

Not even the silence between our lips.

For when I find my lonely soul
with head and shoulders hanging low
wandering through the streets at night
I'll walk on by that scary sight.

My life is full of empty space
that I will not let go to waste.
And if I start to lost my way,
I'll find a way to fill the blanks.

With empty space there's room to grow
Don't be spooked by your own shadow.
When times are dark and things seem grim
just tell yourself "I won't give in."

My wasted memory
is messing with me.
A memory where
I was left
hanging threaded
through a needle
I found in a haystack.

My past showed up and
she sent my thoughts into
a vortex of uneasiness.

I tried to reconcile
with that memory,
but it wasn’t as
rectifying as I had hoped.

Chaos surrounds the calm realm
I store the memory—waiting for
its chance to erupt and
resurrect what I wished would stay
dead.

It’s a wasted memory
for a reason—
I want it to stay that way.

She comes off as rude
and makes it obvious—
the only time she ever
makes her intentions known.

She took advantage of
my vulnerability
and left me sunk
as lost treasure.

I need to learn
to see some things
for what they are sometimes,
and that sometimes
a memory is just a memory.

I’m wasted, it’s wasted;
give me a double shot
of Jack Daniels
and let’s keep things that way.

I woke up and went outside
to bathe in the winter weather.
Sitting in a wooden chair, hidden behind
some firewood I see a bird appear
The bird was startled to see me there.


My heart skipped like a rock across water.
We made eye contact and the bird flipped
and retreated to the pine trees.
It was a blue jay--
I could see the speckled array of blue patterned
on its elegant down coat.

It started digging through
the blanket of dead needles
and my curiosity led me to question
the blue jay’s curiosity;
because curiosity killed the cat,
or in this case, startled the blue jay.
Does the blue jay
have a family to feed?
A flock to fly with? Or is the
blue jay on its own?

I feel human because
the blue jay and I are not the same—
just pieces of natures puzzle.
The blue jay thrives on nature,
I thrive on the
evolution of humanity.
The blue jay spends a lifetime
in the sky--
I spend mine trying to find my wings.

Walking on pebbles
turning them to
grains of sand
An angelic finger
points to me
from the sky
pinching my skin
with dull nails
I point back
and close my eyes
feel the shoreline
and get goosebumps.

I remember cuddling
in your arms
the whole night
my ninth birthday
my ear infected
with painful fluid
I watched the clock
with your eyes
wincing in pain
But your words,
colored with comfort,
turned my focus
"I want to stay
up past midnight
with you mommy."
"It's your birthday,
stay by me
and don't worry."

Today, I remember
that night with
flowers of vivid silence
and a diamond bouquet,
filled with nine geraniums
to be exact,
for all the birthdays
that I've spent
without an ear infection
or an angelic voice
to comfort me
But I still
feel your arms
and their warmth
around my chest
like a kangaroo
pouch in the desert.

This is your day
Pour a margarita
Let's have a toast
for your wings
of holy wisdom
that help keep
my feet afloat.

You don’t know what it’s like, to live in the world I live in
One where a simple smile can be seen by millions in a matter of minutes
One where the pressure to succeed exceeds the pressure to be yourself
One where sitting in silence is better than standing and speaking for what you believe in
One where material things are used to veneer true beauty
One where talking face to face means Facetiming from two different places
One where having a simple family dinner has nearly disappeared
One where meaningful relationships mean “I can’t take this ****!”
One where you walk around with headphones in because you dread those who say hi on the street
One where money is said to buy happiness
One where doing what you love means putting others down so you can rise above…
You don’t know what it’s like…

How can you expect us to be successful when doing so is so incredibly stressful
To live in the world I live in, its cooler to live like the stars we envy than it is to do well in school or live like a leader who believes in something
While technology  has its beneficial assets, like making communicating easier
It also has its artificial backsets….
I can go on facebook and create a phony profile and become a petty ******* who attracts many women and sometimes even a child… and no one would even notice
Our generation is beings deluded by the truth
And its easy to believe a deluded truth if you don’t stand for something.

You don’t know what its like, to live in the world I live in
One where time is everywhere and it flies right by you
One where its easier to sit and complain about something in vein than it is to get up and make a change, I’m just saying
One where asking for help when you need it really means letting your voice become squelched
One where girls flaunt their body just for some attention
And guys act hard to show their worth instead of acting real and showing when they hurt
One where having games doesn’t mean you’re athletic, it means you’re good at hooking up with random girls… and honestly, I find that pathetic
One where looking like a stick means thinking you’re fat, even if you’re just a bit thick
One where it takes 3 weeks to say “I love you” and two weeks to dump you
One where the ones who love you aren’t the ones you trust, and the ones you trust aren’t the ones who love you
One where having 1000 friends online is more important than having 2 true friends who want to see you shine
One where going to a social event means getting wasted out of your mind is having a good time
One where a belief in the end of humanity is creating insanity, and quite frankly, THAT’S whats going to cause this calamity

I’m not trying to seem to pessimistic here
I’m just saying, it’s not as easy growing up in this world as you think
While there are a plethora of things that make this world better
There are just as many things we can do better to make the place we live great
You cant take all the evil in the world at one time and defeat it, you just gotta see theres room for change, look in the mirror, and believe you can be it