A beautiful sun set, rainy days, stormy nights, fast food, sunlight.

The moon in the sky, an ant hill, a boring walk a Hulu hoop.

A sad smile, a tummy ache, a tall tree, a dog in pain.

A tough croud, a poor man, a lonely child, the president.

A loaf of bread, sour milk, the trash can, a funny show.

A wet floor, a window sill, a happy thought, a hurricane.

Shaggy carpet, green paint, an old car, a loving cat or someone fat.

I cherish our life together.

Modern day heretic
With death filled eyes
Hand stroking long black beard
Sipping ambrosia tea of aniline
Smoking rolling snorting his pleasure
Speaking on Lenin, Watts, and the price of heaven
He offers nothing, slips of LSD
His mind a traveler, the smell of burnt almonds is everything
Ask him if he has ever advocated for the overthrow of God
He will coyly smile, and politely nod
Yogic Tantric, naked downward dog
In the morning, he salutes the sun
Christian, Buddhist, he accepts not one
Yet he will quote Jesus and the Dalai Lam
Born again, always dead, rock n’ roller
Passing through the karmic gates of fire
Going out where politicians fear to tread
Drinking whiskey with the devil, eating mushroom heads
He wears his hair long, despite what the moneyed men say
Not for glory, not for fame, not for one care who remembers his name

He only bows to the wind, that truth eternal
The bronze gong shatters
He knows he is mortal

This moth saw brightness
in a woman's chamber--
burnt to a crisp.

the dark
it swallows me whole saying,
"come here"

there's no happy ending, or beginning here
the monsters inside are always inviting more
im lost

you **** me in, then throw me out
why
is it my soul?
can you see my hidden self peeking out?
i don't want to scare you
i  love  you

i just don't know what to say anymore

i'm sorry

I don't write for pity,
or attention or friends.
I write for myself,
I write instead of bleeding.
My poems are personal,
Not written for others.
I share them because
I want to touch someone.
Maybe we can all stop being alone.