~~~
my diet of ideas
is without carbs
that convert to saccharine;
a life filed by the pauses of milky hot coffee sips,
these are the protein compositional periods,
in my otherwise,
stuttering life

when they come to me,
these escapades of poems~moments
'tis the only nutrition this man needs

sister
she yanked
her finger
from the dream
of a dollhouse
telescope
and went on
to preach

-

(Cain is a girl’s name)

-

death
it wants
your son
it wants
the patience
violence
has

Do not ask why you are here,
Treading the waters of a
Planet leaving tears on the
Straight razor held
Firmly to her throat by her
Children.

You are here to dance your life
Out from birth to dust
On the floor between Satan and
Seraph, between kind and
Selfish. Between
Poet and predator.

Know that a light heart, love
For yourself and others; a
Whispered gratitude for the
Smallest of things, is the tallest
Tree in Paradise.
Anger is an axe.

And fear. Fear is a chainsaw.
See the flower; ignore the
Thorns.
Look past the hurtful comment;
More often than not, it was a tickle,
Not a slap.

Be the finger that begins the easing
Of the grip around the razor's
Handle. Form an open hand upon
The face of our blue mother.
Kiss her. Kiss her every sweet
Tear of relief.

What a cheerful world
Mine has become
Since I started forcing myself

To smile when my alarm
Goes off

Every
Single
Morning

It takes less
And less
Force

His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.

we are strangers
yet our lives are
woven by poetry

I have been searching my love
for a space to love you
a place to be, and be in love
here I sit for a hundred days
full of haze, full of dreams
spanning a thousand years
this is a space where forever
forever will visit, and take lovers
away into loves love for eternity

So she's leaving us
Driven out by the mindless idiots
Who infest this site
I had it with my last daily "Hope"
But the writer had less likes for all his poems
Than I've got in just one
We, we who write and post do it for one reason
We write because we love words
We DO not write for torrents of abuse
And so I say to you
Ignore the abusers because they are lessor people
Than you
There is no love in their words
Simply because they are incapable of expressing love
You, you the poets, you the true writers
Stay, ignore the idiots
YOU are the beating heart that keeps us alive