In reflection of minor moments that ended before I had understand or recognition of their value
I stumbled across a time of mine
as a child
scurrying through a park
hurrying to play before the dark
came to take freedom away.
From the corner of my eye
I spied
a wood pigeon
struggling against the snag
of dense ivy vine.
Its leg revealed trapped between
frantic flapping
and panicked call.
I crawled a careful crawl
ignoring thorns and nettle stings
I used to cover my approach.
Reaching out
denying maddened pecks
and talon sctatchs to detour me,
I gently held the bird
between leg and hand
as the other hand tore ivy vine.
Released it sored.
Swift and gone.
The throb of its shaking heart still echoing in my palm
as this memory echoes in my heart.

the way life used to be
isn't what i miss,
it's each individual moment-
lapsing over and over one another
creating an inconceivable picture
of everything i love,
now lost

The perception you have
This cloud that mars your judgement
A lack of compassion
And of vision
Has handed to me
Your transition
From lover to long term sufferer
And my metamorphosis
From your rock, to the reason,
We may never recover

How time has cracked
The fate we sealed
How nonchalance and reluctance
Have become the swords we yield
No time it would seem
To continue to dream
Just to watch the harvest burn,
Of our fallow field

We subside into solitude
The construction of,
Our pre fabricated fortitude
And all the worries, the strains
And the stress
They all shall drown
As our lives digress

No passing of grace
Just a funeral pyre
With time it douses
The burning desire
To turn run and find
All those years we left behind
Discarded with ease
No longer here to please
This heart-breaking separation
Now has become my emancipation

She spreads her legs for any **** with a fat wallet
then ***** with their heads when she’s done.
She sits on her pedestal and feigns character
when she is just a vapid sack of empty atoms.
She’s a maneater through-and-through
and deserves nothing out of life.

She phones you to let you know how she’s doing
and laughs at all your problems and lack of luck.
She flashes her **** and wears skintight trousers
but the ***** in her won’t come out for you.
She’s a maneater through-and-through
and deserves nothing out of life.

She spits venom with the devils in their dresses
then acts all nice when you’re around.
She feigns being a princess who just wants love
but throws your affection back in your face.
She’s a maneater through-and-through
and deserves nothing out of life.

She will wrap you around her littlest finger
then flick you off without hesitation.
She will use your skills to her advantage
then abandon you when they’re not needed.
She’s a ******* ***** through-and-through
and deserves **** all out of life.

I’m just a man looking for a woman and a therapist

One to fix me, one to love me, in any order

And you, you’re just a lovely, sweet, spoiled

Left by a father, whose death ruined you

It burns like a wildfire, ebbing in all directions

Our duo resembles a bear and a bear trap

While the poacher of souls trains his stare on us

Chewing tobacco with a tear in his shirt

With a wife somewhere, with all her chords in the proper sockets

Bored, dumping her love down the sink with the extra beans

Running the water we’ve come to share like barroom jokes.

And back to you and me, it was only a month; and I loved you

You never knew, because stitches never love a wound

They fall away frivolously, and anonymous

Much like us, now, with alarms of harder times burning in our ears

Yet the sound never fades, it sticks around like the old friends

The ones who helped you before you were famous, or infamous

My demons got my depression in an uproar
My Demons cut me up
My Demons **** my joy
My Demons haunt my dreams
My demons utterly destroy me
My Demons push you away
My Demons always leave me left alone
My Demons they are never truly gone
they run rampant through my life for a while
and then disappear in hibernation
until the next ******-up thing disturbs them
my demons are my demons alone
I fight them silently everyday
My Demons let no one come close
I guess my demons protect me that way

When a poet can no longer
find their words;
Please give them a hug...
Understand that the loss of words,
is a loss of true love.

When a poet Can no longer find their
ink;
Don't leave them alone in their mind
What to do with a paralyzed pen
Living in a world unkind
There is no drain to an ocean
to deplete this sea of thought
please hold this dysfunctional poet
Whose feelings have been
Bartered and bought

.
Must your arms
Be a circle of stones
Locked with truest heavens
Embracing me?

Must your hair
Branch in a wood so deep
Impenetrable and unspeaking
Where lost are souls?

O how your love was so tall,
Such a frame for me to climb,
But I never could see stars up there
From shy ground I felt you looking down.

Must your eyes
Make me see as someone
Who suffered lifelong blind
Lidless in the sun?

*O how your love was precious,
A plaything just to dole out only,
The driest morsel after long famine
And I, a feather in winds without sky.