They seem like creatures
cut from some
merciless mythology,
these demons that haunt me,
working hard,
while I try to be
a decent human being.

So, I seek peace in nature,
loving the earth,
but it seems
the monsters are now coming
for that to.

Still, I look down with a smile
cause their winter war has not yet claimed
grasses’ lush green demeanor.

It’s a shame
that I let my
heart break,

when I
should have
just let it
rest in pieces,

let those
pieces bleed
and set myself free.

A hungry heart
hurts like hell,
devours itself
searching for
something
that isn’t there.

So, my innards ache,
my fists break
hard
against solid objects,
tears threaten me,
come dangerously
close,
but never flow.

Lovely light hearted Layla,
my lyrical inspiration,
the source of my hopeful heart
and tear felt frustration.

I want to ride the night,
to stand by your side,
and hold your hand
as we cross this land.

I’ve heard the tears
other broken hearted lovers cry,
and seen nothing,
but the blackness of the otherside.

Oh, treasured friend of mine
is there something there
behind your eyes
that I might find,
perhaps a slight spark
lit in your heart
that parallels mine.

Layla, I long to hold you by the hearth,
hot and ***** loving affection
that burns against the dark
of the cold winter woods.

Layla, you are my wild one,
in whom I trust
but I doubt that my love
will ever touch
the summit of your desirous affections.

We were stripped
of the multi-colored
diverging multiverse
as each dimension
collapsed
with each decision passed
till only one reality
emerged triumphant.

Its so hard to write
a one to two page
short story,
and almost impossible
to write
anything longer then
five to ten
pages
because the flow
will only go
on for an hour or so,
and when I lose that river
it’s hard to get back
and deliver
anything I think is good,
and because finishing a story
means I don’t get to
follow it through
any new twists, turns,
or diverging tangents.

Let the world rot
Let it sink in decay
because I got no faith
in this human race.

I drive.
Each night passes by
cold shadows
tell no lies,
by flicker strangely
like specters
dying before me.

The road is mine
and I am its,
possessed by quiet reflections.
Daylight finds
hills that ride
and roll
up and down
all around me.

Stimulants,
set to see me
safely home,
little nicotine sticks,
not actual cigarette
of vapes
but gas station
electronic
devices,
stacked with
lots of caffeine.

Music and podcasts,
audio books
play by to fast,
they never seem to last,
because the drive never ends.

Hotels,
hot showers,
more caffeine
then overtime hours.

Until,
they settle me down
to one worksite
and that rogue
road work life
fades fast behind me.

Part of me misses
the unpredictable madness.
Part of me is grateful
for the stability.
Its healthy
cause I get better sleep.
Now I drive the same route
every **** day,
but I miss the strangeness
of the different roads
I used to take.

If I could
pinpoint the
exact moment
your breath
touched mine
washed me over
in ocean waves
sea creatures glowing
in delightful recognition
as the seedlings
of connection
shimmied into our being
and, dancing within me
in its own lifeforce
your mind a living,
breathing animal
your heart, purring
and whirring its sacred forces
into my molecular structures
your soul throbbing
in mitochondric pulsing
(oh what
a delicious vibration
of ribosomes)
Between us, we hold
the true treasures
close, in frothy
                       tenderness
a purity of the expanse
of our universe,
swathed in prismatic color
colors that shift,
these fresh hues
for which there are no name
they are lucid and fine-woven
as silk histories
yet deep as earthcore
your eyes, voice
are forever burned
into my own
every day scriptures
that rock my shattered parts
into wholeness
and,
like ancient magic,
I conjure forth
the holy gospel
rising from our bones
every second of
every minute
as our deepest fires
our most secret filth
our murky corners
our darkest hours
we weave into light
brilliant and lustrous
multi-layered in the richest
folds of the earth
and as you place me
upon the shores
of your garland-graced
                              throne
Now I'm alive in a new
kind of light
and
all I can do
is love
        and love
and love

To see you smile again
to play a game of
Chinese checkers
and then dominoes
watch wheel of fortune
to see who knows
the answer faster
then those *******
on the show.

To see your
scraggly face
half-grown beard
silent strong type
who smoked a pipe
who worked the campground
near the end of his life
just to make a little more money
and have something extra
to do at night

To go back to when
we three were traveling
together to New Salem
me the small skinny
child with tubes in his ears
and you two old farts
who took me there

Now I only see you two
in dreams.

She’s sings so sweet
and her words are refreshing,
but I guard myself
cause my affections
become obsessive.
I walk away
before anything starts
cause it’s so much easier
then dealing with
a broken heart.

I’d play my guitar
but I never learned
so, I’ll whistle my songs
as the world turns
and burns to ashes.

My friend is heavy
heading towards
a heart attack.
He can’t even sleep
cause he hurt
his back,
and every day down
I wonder how long
it will be
before I have to
bury him and grieve.

I’d play my guitar
but I never learned
so, I’ll whistle my songs
as the world turns
and burns to ashes.

The government is
in the pocket
of big business
cause corporations
bought all your
favorite politicians.
So, they don’t give a ****
about the environment
and in twenty some years
we’ll be lucky if we
survive in it.


I’d play my guitar
but I never learned.
So, I’ll whistle my songs
as the world turns
and burns to ashes.

The night is over
but the dawns not coming.
I used to be fast
but there’s no place
to go a running.
Destruction is certain,
so I don’t even buckle up.
I just roll up the highway
and watch the world
get ******.

Not quite winter
but the bare sidewalks
are already cold.
A frigid wind blows
with indifference
as strangers
pass each other.

A soulful voice
accompanied by
a beautiful keyboard
sings hope
from a street corner,
while nursing
a small plastic cup
of transparent
brown liquid.

Such a sweet
street performer,
I drop him
two dollars,
as he shivers
and smiles.

Such a sweet
street performer,
but the night
is a promiscuous lover
leaving him behind
in time
looking to find
tomorrow’s mind.

Not quite winter
but the bare sidewalks
are already cold.
A frigid wind blows
with indifference
as strangers
pass each other.

A soulful voice
accompanied by
a beautiful keyboard
sings hope
from a street corner,
while nursing
a small plastic cup
of transparent
brown liquid.

Such a sweet
street performer,
I drop him
two dollars,
as he shivers
and smiles.

Such a sweet
street performer,
but the night
is a promiscuous lover
leaving him behind
in time
looking to find
tomorrow’s mind.