It is the journey
The richness of
New experiences
That expand my consciousness
Feeding the creative frenzy
Creating new neural pathways
Improving my mind
And enriching my humanity

I am disconnected.
Though I long
to be a part
of the collective heart
that binds all,
I do not feel
its tangible will.
I do not see
the helping hand.
Apathy stands.
Dullness fills
this ill fed
fawning,
yawning body.
The heat saps,
makes me
want naps
more then
human
connections.
Today dies
the dullest death of all.
nothing ventured,
nothing gained,
and only a
small poem
to mark this
mundane Monday.

My five-disc cd player
shuffles through
sad soft songs
that sing
me and my depression
to sleep,

a melodic muse
to still the
inner tempest
and let this
lonely witness
escape the deep
shades of darkness.

Alone with
someone else’s
consequences,
in so much pain
that I try to end this
but even suicide
is hopeless
for me.

There is no opening
out of this bubble
that I have been
living in.

There is only
the cycle that
washes, rinses,
and dries me out,
makes me cry out loud
when no one is around,
but never tell anyone
that I am hurting.

The pills and razors
are still not working,
so I’m just burning through
my terrible twenties
and most of my thirties,
never ever feeling worthy
of any sort of love.

What a beautiful man
a character in muted colors
speaking Shakespeare’s words.
I covet the players coven
a place where such wonders
where made manifest,
where actors did their best
to express in proper parlance
past prose and poetry.

What a fine figure
full of creative vigor
that speaks loudly
marking lines with fierceness
and a slight playful puckish
variety.

What a time to relish
spoken forms
the theater
worn for such
vocal storms
and I am in love
not a ****** decree
but an infatuation
founded upon
the wonderous creativity
of this sweet performer
before me.

All I can see
is a wasteland of
stone, glass, metal,
and wooden rubble
in an open air prison
where children are living.

Six thousand bombs,
stirring up
thick clouds of grey dust,
obscuring the horrors
people are enduring.

The attackers are
barely even
warning people
to move on.
The exits are blocked.
The power and water is off.
The suffering doesn’t stop,
and these civilians
are unable to leave.

How are you unable to see
the hell spring of grief
that is burning human beings,
the furnace that still cooks
even when no one bothers to look
because all of the crooks
were just waiting
for the perfect excuse
to make the news
with a justified genocide.

Mass ****** and more oppression
with the weapons
America supplied,
and guess what,
another child just died,
more parents got radicalized,
and if they survive
will you be surprised
if hate is the new demoncont.
that wears their tired red eyes.

The rich guys lied and decided
that unequal retaliation
is perfectly justified,
so we are on a road
to the extinction of
human decency
as the world murders
our collective humanity.

Crack, boom,
the sound of thunder blooms
orange heated chaos,
breaking the foundation
an entire building.

A whole family line
gets an early burial,
as what’s left of my heart
gets carried inside,
popped in a box
to be buried alive,
because their beat
was the same as mine.

Nothing I write
will change the minds
of those unwilling to
listen and see people who
are close to total annihilation,
as deserving of love,
and compassion,
but even so
I am still asking.

Help, please, help!?!


Instead we get beheadings,
mass shootings,
****** assault,
retaliation,
and the expectation
of more tragedy to come.

I can easily condemn
violent actions taken,
but I need to understand
the origins of this rocky foundation,
and potential solutions,
because I can’t stand the
horrors I am facing
without eventually breaking.

What a dashing figure,
shirt unbuttoned halfway
as he delivered
his lines with grace.
However, this is not a gay man’s appraisal
of another man’s handsome face,
but a straight and secure observation,
a poet’s reflection
informed by the actor’s
performance.

As a child I was devout
Faithfully glued to
An idea with no truth

But I spoke clearly
Understood the fictions
Better than most adults did

Like little girls understand
Barbies, My little ponies
And monster high dolls

Like grown women
Who still want to be
The princess they saw
On Disney

Like little boys understand
GIJOE, Spiderman,
And Superman

Like grown men
Who still want to be
The Batman they saw
In movies on tv

I clung to this fair unreality
Hoping it would be redemption for me
Because the bruises and red marks
Demanded I believe
Insist I must need
A superhero Jesus to save me

While I was drowning in a sea of sin
I had to beg the divine to let me in
Noah’s Ark,

Hoping that god knows my heart
Was full of good intentions

But the bathroom florescent lights
Made me feel ugly
Like everyone was judging me
With all my pores and acne
With all the scar my mom gave me
Though she hid them perfectly
Just beneath my skin

I thought god would save me from her whims
Or at least take me away to be with him

Instead of leaving me in pain’s den
To lose those faithful delusions
One heartbreak at a time
One history and science lesson at a time
One standup routine and comic book at a time

Till I lost my taste for the divine
While at the same time
I was just plain losing my **** mind

I am stealing my last breath
Working well until my death
Sitting still and still I tell myself
This is what I am looking for
Kissing, touching, and loving for
Savoring and wanting more
Like Cupid’s last crust of bread
I am brown and dry but still rich tasting
Basking, basting, and baking
With all that delicious love
I take myself to bed instead of
Staying awake with my racing brain
Fulfilling my last best dressed wish
I rest to lay my aching head
Softly sinking in a red pillow
Till they find me dead in my bed

**** the society
that tries to
inseminate me
with hateful
violent tendency.

**** those laws
that cause
liberty to be
denied to those
who don’t
make as much money
are look the same as me.

**** those reality stars.
Stuck up,
liposucked
money mongering
artificial
Hollywood housewives
that sell lies.

**** those fake
pop stars
who claim
their art is
making them
brilliant artists
when it is just
poison
their bringing.

**** me for singing,
poetry writing,
Not injustice fighting
cause I enjoy my
lazy lifestyle
and social justice
seems like a losing war.
A hundred battles
I lost before
I even started;
Fucccccckkkk.

I've been chasing her. Though she is final, the ultimate mystery. She is the darkness. The final bliss and such a release. In uncertainty she is a comfort. In happiness she is a spider ******* at my flesh. I know not what will happen when we finally embrace. So I wait and try not to waste the days between my fate and her ****** lips. She will love me as she has loved all who have come before and all who come after. No one will escape her embrace.

the greatest thing an artist can aspire to is masterpeice, the same can be said for a novelist. But the greatest thing a poet can aspire to is love and all of its wonders

The last lantern flickered
reflected in the black water
while raindrops made ripples
and little waves were formed
in the wake of the wooden boat’s
unsteady movements.

No cars or clocks to hear
just the soothing percussion
of light rain falling
on a saltwater world
of an eerily clouded night.

The empty vessel
loses itself in
the same ocean
that claimed
the men who had been
rowing out for some
grand late-night fishing.

They say greatness
comes from grand
achievements,
military service,
athletic endeavors,
or the acquisitions of wealth.

I do not need that flavor
of false bravado.
I would rather wrestle
poetry
from the heavy heart
of humanity.

I took myself to the dark places
Cold clusters of pulsing arteries
Veins running red and ready to bleed
Blade sharpened thin and ready to slice skin
Every time tremors of this pain filled reality plagued me
I took to these deathly fantasies
That I imagined and tried to die
But the razors were dull and rusty
And I never had the strength to
Cut through the physical pain
The pills did not ****
Only damaged my teeth and kidneys
The only peace that came was when I slept
Clenched tightly under cover and in between dreams
When only nothingness reigned
Little blackouts like small deaths comforted me

It is caffeine induced insanity,
heart beating rapidly,
stress and anxiety
hunting me viciously.
I try to slow my breathing,
try not to see all the possible
bad outcomes,
but my nervousness ruins everything,
tightening the valves and ventricles
that should keep me moving.

Now they keep me cringing
worried about what worse thing
that may still be coming.
I clench my chest,
try to calm my breaths.
Until, I am able to
force myself to sleep
and awaken with
just a little more peace.

It is just a thing
barely a temporary fix
that does not mix
with the mind’s expansions
does not help you grow
or know
new worlds
within or without.

It will not save you
or take you to
new and grand places
with unknown faces.
Unless, it is a book.

No needle still we chase
That purple syrup dragon
Let that poison ride our veins
Carbonated grape beverage
Which gives us
A light crack type rush
Then makes us crash

I cut my loss.
I ran away.
Told the world
I cannot stay,
but the truth is
I’m not that strong.
Give me a minute
and I’ll be gone.

An undercurrent,
A buzzing pain,
I hid it so well,
till, I could not recall
that inside myself
was a reservoir of grief.
Which is why I drown
when I go down deep.

I close my eyes
and each loved one is there
each family member or friend
that has died
and those who just
disappeared.
I retrace my step
to see them all again
but I cannot get back
to what we were then.

You see me in my words
please remember me well.
See me in the past,
because now I’m not here.
I am so sorry
that I had to go.
I hope you know
I love you all.

Fare thee well.
Goodbye my friends
For you life may be good,
but for me it’s the end.

It’s the age of digital wonders.
The world cast before our feet
to be reeled in and gutted,
plunging further down the hole
Of personally preferred biases.
All the information ready to be devoured.
Generations scouring the abstract
for solid connections
but the ones and zeroes
cannot touch a stranger.
The distances conquered
cannot yield flesh upon flesh communication.
There is no oxytocin connection.
Instead, all the files of pain
are relegated to the spam box.
Humanity is filtered in favor of
cheap proclamations of internet love
and the once wondrous round world
becomes flat again.
The sun revolves around the earth.
Four fingers forget opposable thumbs
and we never evolve to be better
than we are.

You don't have a good grasp
on those snakes in the grass
that will bite you in the ***.

Perhaps, I lack patience.
I am rapacious
for more rapturous
word wonders worked
from your weirdly wired,
but beautifully inspired brain.

I close my eyes
massage my eyelids
see impossible impressions
of the pressure
become spherical
abstractions
distorted shapes
rippling in the void
of sightlessness.

This world can be a dark, crue,l and hateful place. That is why we must be ever vigilent against the tide of racism and hatred that overshadows the land. Where there is cruelty we must bring compasion, where there is darkness we must become the light, and where there is hate we must be love. I hope all of us can live as shining example of the goodness within the hearts of human beings.

How tragic that I have fallen for
my peacock colored angelic
poetically created fantasy,
how her lips are rainbows
and hair falls fancy
full of vibrance,
though she is written in silence,
hazel eyes always focused
in some far-off distance
behind me,
the man who longs to be
the one she is truly seeing.
Galatea to my Pygmalion,
though I know there are billions
of possible lovers out there,
I do not care or dare
avert the heart I share.
She is my obsession,
and I am her devoted
poet possession.


-2022 December

Man
was malformed
by the mask
he made
to hide from
the more grotesque
version of
the world
that burned him.

I come from
a myriad of
multiverses,
all times
and spaces
that converged,
all potentialities
that led up to me,
to the river that
will flow,
and the mountain
that will rise,
climaxing
in the epic apogee
of the death
of this frail body.
I am
a prisoner
of that certainty.

Perhaps we should take comfort in our insignificance. The universe is indifferent. It neither needs or care for our existence. All the reason we need to care about one another is that our existence is so transient. It is most likely we will not revisit this or any other life, so why not treasure those by our side, and be kind to strangers for that reason alone.

I am the sin barer
goat supping up
the soupy bread
that you spiced with
your lies and violence,
to achieve spiritual purity.

I watch and transcribe
the things that you do,
recalling and retelling
the horrors you committed
throughout time.

You ****** the memory
of our greatest tragedies,
all those atrocities,
white sheet warriors
burning crosses
and lynching men,
all those right wing
fanatics who spew hate
and vote in
the corporate supporting
politicians,
all those war hawks
hawking bombs and drones,
all those burnt bodies buried
beneath those broken homes,
all those charred broken bones.

I cry out but just as I am
about to reach you
your rusted blade slices up
and inside my tight gut.
Warm viscera falls through
sloshing out greasy and sloppily
on the grassy meadow beneath you.

How easily I become the repository
for your sick story
as you sacrifice me
to rid your self
of all those memories.

I sit in the dark
and puncture my heart
play poet to start
balancing all of those
uneven evening stars.
Till all of our scars blink at
the same twinkling beat that
blows me away like
an old-school gangster’s gat.

Now, I bleed
and I can’t get that red shirt back
this isn’t Star trek
but I use to figure that
we would be better than that.
Instead, we are worse.

So I curse this curious soul,
drop off to sleep and lose control.
I let my sub conscious go,
shrink my hope and let sorrow grow,
write it down so you will know
that we are not getting better.
We’re getting way worse.

If there is a heaven
waiting up there for me,
patiently playing
on eternity’s
celestial strings.
I hope there are
less human beings
and more trees.

More majestic oaks
standing firm and deliberate
never speaking till
they find the truth
and are certain of it.

I would rather cherish
a cherry tree
in the after life
then face a horde
of alt right
idiots.

Or,
perhaps
as it really is
I would prefer
not to exist.

Though I wish it was not
the case
this human race
does not want
an honest human being.

Instead, they want shiny
expensive
status symbols
but all I have to offer
is love and wisdom.

The old tree wears new leaves.
Green things gleaming and moving
dancing like a grass skirt
with the warm whims
of these soft summer winds.

I’m letting go to let you know
The snow that grows
By loads and loads
Till frosty feet
And frozen toes
Are merely frigid memories
Till all the trees are barren of leaves
Till April fools is but a foolish memory
And memories of you and me
Are dust I let you know as I must
With little strength left
I am letting go of all I left
But still keeping a little life for myself

Language is the way i love humanity with an outsiders affection. Listening to the language of their stories, as they slowly reveal the essence of who they are, tentatively exposing just enough to intrigue but not scare strangers away.

Let us all stand united against the hate and intolerance that ignites violence and oppresion, whether it is in foreign lands or in our own nation. Let love reign supreme and hope that hate fades.

They put poetry on the wall
Wrote it deep into my skin
Barely ink boiling
Paintbrushes
Were like bandages
Pens were like anesthetic
Pretty pamphlets
Pasted perfect words
To counteract
What made us disturbed

He sculpted reality
Shifted melted metal
To shape a better world
The hand of man

She sculpted flesh
Growing cells
Pygmalion of the womb
Suckling and nurturing
A newborn

He made madness
Mimicking solar explosions
Destruction
Death

She gave birth
To generations
Yet veneration
Was given to the masculine
Man made god a male

The progeny turned upon
The progenitor
Male propagated pain
Female yielded the fruit of life
In all forms of adaptation

Though I reject gender division
In societies expectations
I would prefer a female god
Giving birth
To the damning male model
Condemning all those who live on
This beautifully evolved Earth

Broccoli green
gum drop
tree tops
lean less than
lightly in
this no breeze
dry heat day.

The old lady houses
are made up of
mud encrusted
multi-colored
rough bricks

Seems to be
pre-blooming
purple flowers
unfold
before me.

Tree leaves
begin turning
from green to yellow
yearning for
the release of fall
when gravity will
take them all.

There is a clap.
Faces face
your candy cage
gilded in gummy
sugary glues
made to amuse
your sickly
sweet tooth.

It’s like you use
an apple for a gavel
doling out justice
in judgement
of those who
are starving;

Like you’re ignoring
the reality
but you’re  
hungry to.

We have the tools
but you’re more interested in
revenge for imagined
slights.

So you fight
against your own interest.

Instead of a
grand buffet
you put rocks
and mud on you plate.

Until the day
you fade away
a little slower then
the women and men
you were judging
but almost in
the exact same
anorexic shape.

Disembodied voices
Sit in a conference call
To convince tellers
To tell people
That credit cards
Are awesome
That it won’t cost them
Much at all
And they can get rewards
Not mentioning
That the percentage
Of interest
Outweighs any rewards
They claim are so great
And if the cardholder is not careful
Heavy debt waits
To chain them to
Financial insecurity
And a job that is cruel
Countering the countenance
Of mankind’s
Desire to be free

I used to have a horrible case of giving a ****
Sometimes you have to learn to quit that ****
Cause life will try to ***** a nail into the tip of your ****
Bust a fist in your *** that doesn’t fit
The kind of pain that you are ill-equipped to handle
This doesn’t mean I don’t love the world
I’ve just decided that I don’t have to be part of it
I’m just along for the ride on a separate lane
Off the track on a separate train
So I can finally stuff the pain of failed expectations
Where it belongs

They see the circle take the square
Going around round here
Without fear
Cutting corners
Till love cycles back
To there is no white or black
Just humans
Hands by the fire
Hands held all together
Till better angels are inspired
One foot into the coals to forge better metals
And our bond finally becomes
Unbreakable in love

Rose petal plucked perfectly
From the perch it was put on
Pink side placed in the daylight
Turns to crimson during night
Soft pigmented petal pulled
From its’ proper place
And plunged into darkness
As it dances lost in the
Vast expanse of space

You can have this body.
It is only a borrowed thing
made up of grass and mud
of burning stardust
and everything I ate
and everything that was
eaten by what I ate
every drop of water drank
every particle and wave
of those lovely raving solar rays.

I am only a place holder
for the next thing.
So, you can have this
soft body for the breaking
for the decomposing
and atomic, molecular reshaping,

But the dreams our mine
as are my thoughts.
For all that was gained
taken or lost
you cannot have my heart.
Unless, I decide to give it to you later.

Nothing was ever easy
For her reluctant heart
Eyes ever scanning the horizon
Heart ever guarded
Reticent desire
Always looking for an exit strategy
Always seeing the same old patterns
Passion and betrayal
Lust and loss of interest
Why bother even trying
Lovers discarded
As fast as they were acquired
Waning desire intermingled
With boredom and guilt

Good men are slaves
to a system
that has them
trying to stay strong,
trying to pay rent,
to feed moms,
and their children.

They do the wrong thing
because they need money
for food, cloths, shelter
for car insurance,
for maintenance, and
for medical emergencies.

So, the goodness,
We would like to see
gets buries out of
necessity.

Kind hands
become calloused tools
and the hardworking man
dies at the plant,
were other good men
are struggling the same
with some minor variations.

The bloviate voices bellow
unbound by morality
or the clarity of logic
that rational people seek.

I search the multitude
of men and women
for the ecstasy
of a poet’s euphony.

But the unmoved masses
do not parlay that way.
They simmer in their hate,
rage when they
don’t get their way,
causing strangers
undue amounts of pain.

In an autumnal day
I am impelled
by the sharpness
of these unmovable hearts.

However, my mettle is molten
marked by my persistence
as I seek the betterment
of all mankind.

I am still strange,
haven’t managed
to change
enough
to fit in.

I still enjoy
the comic books
I collected
when I was
a young boy.

I still like
the sci-fi
fantasy
movies,
and tv shows.

I am still
as curious
as the little kid
who hid
and watched
robins
walk
with their
heads
bobbin.

I am still reading
searching,
and pleading,
longing
with aching sincerity
for a world
that will appreciate me,
but I think
that I am too strange
for this reality.

Today is the third
a day to work
cuz I prefer
to not be disturbed
by the holiday hustle.

I don't like that bustle,
so if I can work
through the weekend
to get to the work week
and avoid people
who bore me
then it fits perfectly
with my developing story.

The time has come.
Soft silk shirt
unbuttoned.
Lacey *******
slid from
the skin I want.
I dive in tongue first.
Let you scratch my back
as I latch on like a lamprey
feeding on your juices
plunging deeper.
I hope you’re a screamer.
As I slither to and hither
twirling my tongue
like a cheerleader’s baton
or a helicopter rotor
around and around
with such frenzy
till you gasp fiercely
and squirt me.
Then I return to taste
your flesh,
trace your breast
with gentle brush strokes
caress your neck
and nibble your earlobes.
Then when you shiver again
I’ll send my soldier down under.
That up and ******
grinding out another ******
as your pink slit gives in to it
my body going in you
like a hyperactive tide
Just the tip then ****** in it.
Just the tip and ****** in it.
All the way out
and all the way in.
Till you are ******* again
and again and again
and again.