I can't get out.
I need to get out.
I need to be me. To find me.
Please. Let me. Out.

Daydreams within blankets at night,
Cotton candy and candies alike,
Pillows and feathers so light,
Making me drift into the night.
Not too warm not too cold.
Feet hidden beneath the coats.
Head and body felt so light,
Making me drift into the night.

Met with a wink
And a sly smile
Her sharp eyes
Hide awhile

In the shrub
She crawls and bounds
Her paws rub
As she glides the grounds

Her red mane
Of hair and dirt
She won’t train
She won’t hurt

She bounds about
In joyous leaps
She leaves about
Every few weeks

Return she may
Or leave and go
It’s every day
I still won’t know

Yet each time
I lose my heart
She comes around
And heals it smart

She’s always there
In dusk or dawn.
She lives in trees
And all beyond

Forever may
She sail the clouds
Yet all the way
She loves me now

She tells me so
And I hear it
I love her so
I won’t forget

That she lives on
Each day and night
Beyond the stars
Within the light

Her spirit is
A strong fox jumping
And when I see her
I run, coming

Shakespeare’s Dog


in the theater tonight, the notion of a poem-potion
courtesy of Shakespeare's dog came unbidden

So when home arrived, was unsurprised that this
very peculiar pug was farting before my own front door.

get lost, I announced got what I need from your boss,
but before I could kick him across the floor,
the pug spake thusly:

this dog knows the boot too well,
it is parcel of this dog's life of no quality,
but if you give me shelter tonite, I will provide,
share some of Speare's un-Published Works
and you can claim it as your own!


kicked that dog across the room,
(having pity earlier I let him in and enter)
told Jim, (that’s what I called him)
he can stay the night, or long as the sun rises up
and goes down unbidden, but, if I ever
caught him plagiarizing, selling sonnets on the side,
I would report him to the ASPCA and the Poet’s Union.

The American Society for the Poets of Conscience Alive -
might have his low hanging ***** cut off in retribution.

he laughed out loud, rhyming funny, pontificating:

well mate,
thanks for the soliloquy,
me ***** long time gone,
but what I know and what I’ve seen
if tale-told you, and you were to listen,
you would keep me around as fodder
for your artistic soul.

in return chappie,
you need only provide me a rug, a fire,
A/C for the languid summer eves,
fodder for me body, and your boots,
far removed from my hindquarters.

We spoke much thereafter,
turns out he served his poet-masters
in many ways, more than a mere footstool.

his snoring keeps me awake some twenty years later.
his love for country music makes me put him on nice days,
outdoors, his headphones securely strapped round his double chins.

ugh that pug. became my best becoming love, old friend,
one of us will pass someday and an elegy composition,
the other devotee will furnish sadness utterly becoming.

so if a farting pug before your door you’ve  found,
take him in, give him water, an amply supply please
of Carrie, Trisha and Chaplin-Carpenter for his immortal soul,
but beware, he might try to sell you
some of my words, as your own.

Sixteen is the age everyone always wanted to be.
Sixteen is rebellious, a freshly sparked fire,
A girl and a boy, living forever in the midnight hours.
Sixteen is freedom. Is dancing. Is music. Is life.
Is when you're supposed to be fully you, as best as you can.
Is the year your lips are round and red as apples,
The year your skin and hair is soft and smooth again,
The year your eyes still flash like two great and ancient stars.
At sixteen, I always thought, I'll cup the world in my hands;
At sixteen, finally someone will love me, finally that star will fall,
Finally, finally, I'll be free.

The world's supposed to end couple months after I turn sixteen.
I guess it won't be able to handle me all grown up like that.
But how the hell did the Mayans know?

Sixteen reasons

To wonder why

Sixteen seasons

That lived and died.

Sixteen seas

And sixteen skies

Sixteen matches

With sixteen tries.

The pearl-and-gold

That hugs the candle,

Is a promise of purity

That will not be broken

Until the time comes

For the pearl-and-gold

To be replaced

With gold-and-diamond.

Sixteen dreams

That want to take flight,

But not yet.

It’s not time.

I’m only sixteen.

I'm sorry but I don't know what for
This worry I cant stand it anymore
My brain is stabbing  my heart
The pain is pulling  me apart

Brains pulling on the strings
Straining against the heart
Till my blood starts to sing
Of a life falling apart

And my brain wonders why
I feel all this pain and misery
Why do I fall low why do I fly
Its unstable chemistry

One day I feel so alive
The next I might just die
Next all endless drive
To numb and dead eyed