Shatter the walls of the mime’s hold

Let the riots speak of the crime

The lie, the story never told.



The decimated morals of our fathers,

Disregarded, maligned and deemed untrue.

These men in charge choose not to care

To meet the demands of our due.



The new power has risen.

Already seeming long in the tooth.

Reminiscing of the old ways,

Where nothing could replace our cherished youth.



Ravaged cities fall to the greed.

The people corrupted within.

Mesmerized, refraining from our old creed.



So spawn something new.

Become the voice of the voiceless.

Hold in your soul and breed the castoffs.

Find the kindness we’ve never found,

Our pillars of faith,

That kept our spirits so sound.



Retreat from their molds, let it out

Forsake those rituals and let them down with ease.

Make your own way, leave no doubt.



Don’t be the drone, cease the stall

Because like it or not

Permanence is the death of us all.

Take it away, Mr. Jingly Change Man
I can’t take it anymore.
It’s something I cannot stand.
Is it when I look into those milky, cataract-filled eyes on Thursday afternoon?
Or is it the blood shot eyes and beer-battered breath of a sticky Sunday dusk?
I was always there.
From the point of your high noon ‘til your low midnight.
The acceptance of your self-destruction has left a blank and voided stare,
And I am done fighting the good fight.
So take it away, Mr. Jingly Change Man.
Not only have you taken the spirit and fortitude out of your life,
But you have just taken away the love and respect of someone who has always been there.
Your Son.

The Eyes Met
The Signals Shown
The Thoughts Lingered
The Mind Boggled
The Senses Heightened
The Spark Ignited
The Hands Grasped
The Lips Locked
The Bodies Meshed
The Promises Kept
The Sacrifices Made
The Lies Created
The Tensions Risen
The Fire Gone
The Lines Crossed
The Back Stabbed
The Hearts Broken
The Lives Wasted
Oh God, I Wanna Let It Go

Over the ridge, round the bend.
Through the weeds and palm trees,
lies the trail that never seems to end.

There you’ll see the stones,
for hobbling and hopping over the creek.
But be careful, many tend to turnover
On those who wish to seek.

Now comes the scent.
Exotic and enthralling.
Whisping through the air aimlessly.
Like the dandelion seeds that have gone and went.

Then there’s the waterfall.
Mystic, wonderful and serene.
My oasis, my sanctum, my serenity

The hatchet starts it all.
Burrowing into the lower depths.
Spaces so small.

The layout underestimates, deceives us.
A need for freedom.
Attempts to resist are futile, outrageous

Then the sewers.
Murky, rancid and foul is the stench.
Senses dulling, aromas piercing like skewers

Don’t stop now.
Elbows, shoulders, calves are tense,
Faintly hearing the moo of a cow.

Just a little more
Finally the light beckons…….all hope is lost
The final barrage of bullets shake to the core.

Lying under the star riddled sky.
Across from the moonlit lake.
The aimless sea of constellations seem wry .
Yet they seem to take this one’s soul from its body.
Cleanse it.
Purify and season it with its wisdom, knowledge and beauty.
In an instant, it hits me.
I arise from this state.
Pondering into the abyss while mosquitoes of prior release their distinctive hiss.
As the last pebble is skipped across the water, It is clear what I must do.
Follow the small and abounding lights.
Because these fireflies will light my way home to you.

Don’t let it go
Share the load from the shoulders
Carrying the world you know

Don’t take it back
Shed the shame of all the traits
You seem to lack

Make it your own
Throw away the stitches
Of every scar you’ve sewn

Keep it away
Defend your heart from those
Notions that lead you astray

So share the load with me
Through the thick and the thin
Because our love transcends
Where none have ever been

He is known as The Leader of Men.
His combat skills and his undisputed valor are unparalleled.
The cryptic tattoos of his body are the gospel of neighboring regions.
The utter of his name sends shockwaves of fear and trepidation across the land.
Biding idle time by sharpening his spears, swords, daggers.
Gutting, severing, and beheading those opposing his path and will.
The elders say he is the son of Achilles.
Yet at the twilight of every night of battle,
He lies at his bedside.
Alone.
He never talks, he never sleeps.
Just gazes upon the blood spilled upon his hands.
He weeps.

The dawn breaks the gloom
Ending the nocturnal rule.
When it rises over the distant horizon,
The warmth will arrive soon.

The dusk lingers in between the vessels
Acting as a medium betwixt the sun and the moon
You’ll know by the formation of the clouds,
The warmth will arrive soon

The shade covers us all.
Brings out all dangerous creatures .
Even with all these threatening features,
The warmth will arrive soon.