Not an ounce of anger
nor arden rage
which typically fill the pages.
There’s a subtle calm
causing such hesitation;
a sense of being stuck.
-Restless, drifting
in a sea of tranquility.

Needed someone
to understand
if you fall
you can get up again.
-Why glass bottles
are full of sand,
how it goes
round and round.
Nothing's bound forevermore
not hate nor love.

As night quiets the songs,
silence awakes the mindful.
rummaging
through old wounds;
now silly scars of course,
but how they bled once!

Green smudge
stains
the purple shirt.
The heart nonstop,
and the night uncertain.
The three legged cat searches
for his owner,
and I search for sleep.

From the comfort of despair,
The tranquility of loneliness.
The aches,
Those thorns on flesh,
Bare.
It stems from here.
Keep your pity,
Calm the fright
And awake your intuition.
Silence
I can stand it,
Though not easily;
Won’t you pretend to care?

feels like a re-run,
a cig you ***
when you’re down
on your luck.
something is about to break,
maybe it’s your day
or maybe
it’s just you.

Bittersweet song
on my radio.
Reminiscing on our story
as if conjured.
Some roads fork
and divide,
others turn to dirt
and get lost in the wilderness.
Still, there's a melody
to be found;
memories fondly held,
despite the lies.

frail bones
barely
holding;
a past as rich,
as the future is poor.
still
everything holds
until.

The absence of a beat,
an empty seat
dust covered clothes;
a fight concerning who's valued most.
Who is entitled to this or that?
Meanwhile the lawyer stares at his watch.
Little Jenny asks for grandpa,
the room is a sudden quiet
and the temperature drops
and the apple on the desk continues to rot.

A misplaced comma,
an misused apostrophe;
what some call extra skin,
not fat, but a flap.
The military calls it a redundancy,
although some find it repugnant.
A synonym for excess,
a form of alienation; disgust.

The one on her left wrist
reminds her of a family member
now long gone.
On her right forearm
a flower, because she liked how it looked.
On the back of her neck
a gecko she got in Cancun
and on her left thigh, one she'd rather forget.
None add her up or subtract
who she was or who she is.

Wrote you
a note,
simple and crude,
three simple words
- I miss you.
Struck a few chords
-off key.
Played with some words;
Tenebrous
-adds fuel to the mystery.

thought the park would help,
really thought it would.
seeing the birds,
the trees,
the colors in the sky
and the light bouncing off the lake.
but, I saw past it,
saw the highway
running along the green's edge.

doubts
no longer
whisper,
but shout!
aged
stained
glass
-promises time forgot.
like the plucking of a rose,
death follows
always quiet,
it can wait
till the end of your speech.

Away from the roots of it,
far from the truth;
there you'll be.
Asking questions no one can answer.
dodging stares,
slurring, launching
slings and arrows
at your darling- your sweetheart.
Hard to believe this could be your reality,
but it twist and it turns all within the bounds.
Yet, physics will mean little to you
as the heart aches.
and the roots of it all
are out of reach now.

Pale light
shines down
reveals the blank page.
Nothingness; an opporunity
- infinite.
the fool rushed in,
fiddled with some words,
adding up to nothing.
That’s the worst of it;
light wasted
and ink
and paper.

When all is failing- as it often does.
Laughter might not be enough,
nor beer and alcohol
nor praying to all the Gods.
-No matter,
just keep in mind,
sometimes it's your turn
to lose
and that's fine.
It is a long game after all

How young is she?
Looks like twenty,
but could be sixteen.
Says things as if she's thirty,
but listens to music like she's not.
She's sensual, yet innocent.
Drives and drinks;
doesn't do a good job of either.
Dances freely like a child,
but worries about things
like a teenager.
I don't know her,
but I am intrigued by her innocence.
She says she wants to dance with me,
I tell her no
and leave.
Still a thought lingers,
how young is she?

whiskey helps,
but i can go without.
feeling it all
and no,
I am not lost
-not coming undone.

a line made of gold
and ink,
a sentiment floats
as it all sinks in.
hide, run or stay;
I'll love you either way.

Cupid had no say
between your heart and mine,
it was a different fate
which our paths intertwined.
No chocolate or wine
nor a perfect line to win your heart.
Still all that's true lingers in your eyes,
our love, like clouds;
firmament
where all takes place.

If you’ve ever struggled to keep your eyes fixed
on two passing ships as they drift
onto opposite directions,
then you have a sense
of what it is like
to walk in New York City.
The city of old and new,
a close knit community of loners striving
even at failure.
Yet, the afternoon skies are honest,
gray and bright.
There’s warmth still
to be found on cold nights,
all sorts
come alive on that cement island of lights

Way back when
we knew nothing,
just kids trying to fit in,
to understand;
what's this life all about?
something we've yet to figure out.
Still, we laughed freely back then,
way back when.

The flowers
have been
dying
ever since
I picked them
for you.

I had some things to say
-and as the age wages on
and hope starves
as love lures the moon and the sun,
I find once more
I'm full of words for you.
Simple minded hearts suffer the most;
caring deeply has its cost.

I hurt just the same
More or less
Still, there’s no rest
And these pages scribbled
Adorned with ink blots
-every other word
And there’s very little punctuation.
---
Scratched a line that was a lie,

Another removed, for it said too much.
Should be simple to understand
Really;
I hurt just the same.

Yours is a path less traveled.
Rythmic for the love of drums.
Got cabinets full of bills,
things that’ll never keep.

A string thugs ever-so-slightly,
but it is visible you see?
Freedom was sold,
hope you kept the receipt.