don’t waste it;
that window to the world

your window
with  a glow
transient but compelling

to see through you
brings joy
to wizened eyes;
they can’t stop staring

and touching…

that image in the glass
dancing like guilt
on a feather
untethered to time or vow

a partner here,
a coveted client now

oh, the sheen,
the glow;
the groping fingerprints
in the know

champagne spills
onto your pane;
where did the time go?

stains linger
like wrinkles;
a fright for four eyes

pity stares through you
now;
your then is gone

if only you had seized
that ray of sunshine
and made it your own

way back when

~ P
(3/28/2016)

Hey you!
With a hole in your head
And a widow
In your bed
Sleeping with your Purple Heart  

Hey you!
In a shallow grave of sand
In a far too distant land
Where war shall ever reign
Like Hell's eternal flame

Where is your peace?

Where is your soul?

Where was your God?

~ P
#HeroesRemorse
(1/1/2016)

A few days
Every few weeks,
These scars speak to me
From the heart,
Broken not by love,
But for life
Extended.

The surgeon's knife
Xacted a reprieve
From end untimely
To new beginning.

And time's no longer
An orphan ignored
But the treasured child,
Finite virtue extolled;

Like the mariner of truth,
She lies on wings
Of fate;

Bypassing clots
And coroners;

That scars might speak to me
A few days more,
Every few weeks.

~ P
(#ScarWars)
12/19/2015

She was barely getting by;
He didn't even try;
Even the roaches knew
The shack painted blue
With no lights
Was on the chopping block

A butcher in a black tie
Rode by,
Greased hands dripping
The couple's blood

The roof leaked
Their pain,
Each drop of rain
Digging deeper

Wet, soul-crushing boots
With toes of steel
Kicked through the door
And the security of home

She was barely getting by;
He didn't even try;
Even the roaches knew
The shack painted blue
With no lights
Was on the chopping block

~ P
#ButcherInABlackTie
(9/16/15)

mine eye is a liar
and these images I see
as clear as can be
are but smoke
to the fire,
stoking my ire,
my scathing desire
for truth

I burn
when lens of lore
magnify times ten,
the plight of thieves and ******
on bleak street
but skip the drum's beat
to which they bop
at city hall

mine eye is a liar
and this black misery I see
cycling from court
to jail
and back
on bikes broken and bent,
is but a tour de jour,
a race with no end
but scars and stripes

the stars are long gone,
stripped from mine eye
and theirs
by hope-stealers,

they haunt the straits within

~ P
#MineEyeIsALiar
(8/5/2015)

they cower in motels
behind brave windows and balconies,
hurling mortal nouns
into private spaces

avatar faces
painted dirt brown
spew hurt and shame
like acid rain
with decadent refrain

and broken blades
seek veins hidden
in sheer fright
from eyes cued to gore,
grime and more

criminal cocktails
circumvent cogency
by a moonshiner's mile

improvised neckwear
leave a mark
as the world goes dark
like forensic files
or the hunt

and another soul
checks out early,
bypassing the lobby
and the regally blind

eyes cued to gore,
grime and more....

~ P
#bedroombullies
(8/3/2015)

if greyhounds could talk,
tales buried in beats, braids and snapbacks
would be told;

lines blurred by the plight
of indifference
would unfold,
connecting souls waiting to die
on straits unforgiving,
to souls willing to try...

and the book of humanity
wouldn't be so
blue...

~ P
(#soblue)
8/1/2015