I’m a poet…
Not one of these
rhyme selling
alliteration junkies,
nor a stanza *****, and what’s more
I think sonnets and Haiku a bore
I snore
at the doorway to beat poet’s hipster-ism
giggling internally at the vast breadth
of useless love prose.
I stand examining the sunrise for meaning
seeking the symbolism left in the echo of crunching dead leaves…
mine is not the path for the faint of heart
as I attack with words
every social norm I come across
every cultural drag
and each individual act of stupidity
so as to become the voice of a nation
unheard, unknown,
but existing, none the less –
I am a poet.

I've run my fingers over the faces
of many men
Touching, yes, but trying so hard to feel
With my own numb heart
It is calloused from use, yes,
but no less tender
So I reach out my hands
And run my fingers over countless faces
As I try to feel again

-

Everywhere I look there is garbage,
the streets are littered with it
People are walking around blind,
they can’t see what is right before their faces,
calling to them from the gutters,
pulling at soiled pant legs

And a guy offers kool aid on the corner,
as another yells, “it's sour!”
Yet still the line is around the block,
though there’s nothing special about his drink,
it's not much different in colour or texture, but still they flock,
perhaps out of fear, maybe thirst

Noise is at extreme levels from both
sides of the street, horns blowing, sirens wailing
“Hey, watch where you’re going, idiot”
Babies crying and dogs barking
Screeching tires complain about red lights
only to peel out at the green

I search my pocket, one quarter,
that’s it as far as change, which makes sense
nothing ever changes, ever…
I hold it in my fingers looking up,
heads I stay, tails I leave as I toss it in the air
and it is stolen before it ever hits the ground

I guess I’ll just get in line for the kool aid,
it is free…if you can stomach it

Wooden love,
Forgotten like old bones
And memories

XxXx

Lies settle uneasily on her skin
Like thick perfume choking
All who are near

XxXx

Wisps of dust
Curl into the rising air
Like invisible smoke

XxXx

Exquisite telling
Of the corpse;
Sparkling wine and cold fingers

XxXx

Do not touch
the shameless broken glass
That lie like crushed diamonds

XxXx

Two buses
Full of empty people
Pass blindly

XxXx

Rising towers of ice
A complex of cages,
And we call it beautiful

XxXx

This is the way the world ends
(World ends, world ends)
Not with a bang but a whisper

XxXx

Because we are the hollow men
And there is never rest
For a lost boy