#ambiguity
A strength to those
who lack it.
A weakness to those
who have it.
A balance unattainable; to make it truly useful.
Manipulation’s perfect infection.
A weapon of self-preservation
That in all actuality is
A device of self-destruction.
So then, upon self-reflection,
one may come to find that:
To hold your tongue
is to lose yourself
And to unleash it
is the act of a fool.
To this I say,
Be careful with your silence
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 3:03 PM UTC
Down goes the sun,
down go the clouds
till they meet
with the sea
far away
to the west.
Orange? Pink?
Thus the sky is colored,
in places orange,
in places pink,
but mostly both—
and at the same time
neither.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 9:02 AM UTC
The Chair Remembers – A Diptych
“Even empty chairs hold stories.”
Part I. On Betrayal
I found your absence folded neatly on the chair,
creased with care,
as though you’d rehearsed this leaving
until it learned your hands.
Nothing was broken.
That should have warned me.
The room stood intact,
complicit,
holding its breath like a witness.
Your warmth remained—
not as comfort,
but as proof
you had taken what you wanted
and left the rest convincing.
Even the clock refused to argue.
Time, it seems,
understood the arrangement.
You didn’t vanish.
You withdrew.
A clean incision.
No blood on the floor,
only the careful geometry
of what was no longer mine.
Your name stayed behind,
balanced on the edge of silence,
waiting to see
which of us would lie first.
I touched the chair.
It knew more than it said.
So did I.
This is how betrayal survives:
not in noise,
not in ruin,
but in the tenderness
with which someone
decides to leave.
Part II. On Ambiguity
I found your absence folded neatly on the chair,
as if you’d learned
how to leave without waking the room.
Nothing was broken.
Nothing asked to be forgiven.
Even the air agreed
to hold you a moment longer
than it should have.
Your warmth stayed—
not pleading,
not kind,
just accurate.
It told me you hadn’t fled.
It told me you had decided.
I want to call it betrayal,
but the word keeps hesitating,
like a key
that almost fits.
You took only what was yours.
That may be the wound.
Or the mercy.
I still haven’t chosen.
If leaving was necessary,
it was because staying
had begun to ask
for something untrue.
The clock resumed its duties.
The chair accepted the weight of me.
Everything continued
with an ease
that felt practiced.
This is what love learns
when it can no longer stay:
how to touch the world
without remaining in it.
Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 1:55 PM UTC
Save a life, buy a gun.
Who knows what tomorrow brings?
Maybe sunshine, maybe rain.
The world needs an enema.
The truth lies somewhere in the mess.
There's a Judas among us, watching from his porch.
Is it I, Lord?
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 10:15 AM UTC
Who are you? Who goes there? What's going on in here?
What is this? Where are we? How can this situation be rectified?
I must head home now and recommence my slumber and then recommence my daily routine which involves business and transaction.
Where is the sky? Why is it so dark? There is no wind. This silk conforms to the malice of my twisted features and to the protrusions of my warped physiology. Why am I within a cocoon?
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 5:41 PM UTC
Ambiguity
Seven Times
Maybe one and two
Or many verbal words
Scatter our grasp
For sense and meaning
A puzzle thrown
In the Air here and there.
Here these words
Are pieces unconnected
Even as the word, THE,
Can take us to "the" beach
Or to " the" room
What you bring can
And Might
Be your rescue. Maybe.
You are here.
In the dark or light
Where one can't be defined
Without the other
Just as the meaning of you
Lives never in just one place
But resolved
Simultaneously ambiguous
This is your beauty.
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
Six-shooters are holstered, swords are scabbard, arrows are un-nocked, blades are sheathed.
Not in the course
Of one petty conflict,
But comparatively throughout history.
There is more intergovernmental cooperation,
More trade and tourism,
More declarations and treaties.
The common person
Has greater breadth of movement
In travel of classes & region.
The ignition of all these dormant conflicts
Will not lead to any new or better resolution
But, more likely than not,
More conflagration & revolution.
To win or to lose
In a game of confusion
With the strategy of lies & ambiguity.
Better than to limply concede
And forfeit all claim to belief
In what you fought to seat.
And in fifty years from now
Some blasted fool shall say:
The ignition of all these dormant conflicts
Will not lead to any new or better resolution
But, more likely than not,
More conflagration & revolution.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 1:00 AM UTC
from ambiguity is insight born.
minds, both clever and not,
all conceive many a thought.
in attempt to interpret,
ideas are set into motion,
building a creative notion.
through presence of equivocation,
wit is given liberty
Nov 22, 2024
Nov 22, 2024 at 12:10 PM UTC
Weathervane, weathervane,
whither does the wind blow?
Will you learn to point the way
or will you just go with the flow?
When the fox would rule the henhouse
as the wind twists all around
will the weathercock crow midnight
without making a sound?
Oct 28, 2024
Oct 28, 2024 at 3:54 PM UTC
I have, from time to time, heard this simple phrase:
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
It’s always puzzled me. It seems illogical.
No, the road to hell isn’t paved at all.
It’s an old road, constructed when the first stars lit up the sky. It’s been here longer than us.
And we’ve used it. Many of us, over and over.
The road, once pristine, has seen the footprints of a billion souls.
And so, it’s cracked, withered, decayed. The dust, which was once cobbles, blown into the wind,
never seen again.
In fact, it’s not a road anymore.
Roads are strict, they instruct where to go.
But the road to hell is so distraught that it guides no more.
Loose stones are all about, and any semblance of a path is gone.
The empire has forgotten the road.
There is no surveyor coming. No highwaymen traveling horseback.
We’re on our own.
We’ll have to find our own way to hell.
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 11:28 AM UTC
Maybe you called my name
( in hundreds of languages I couldn't speak, )
Or maybe
You said nothing at all
.
Maybe your love was so incomprehensibly encompassing I could not tell the difference between it and the very air I breathe -
Or maybe
It was comprehensively small
Sep 20, 2023
Sep 20, 2023 at 12:39 AM UTC
The main theme of this poem is um, triumph
So uh the secondary theme of this poem is defeat?
How could that be? Is that even what a poem is?
Is my life a song? Is this the ******* chorus?
Something crawls up from the drain through the ***** dishes and out of the sink. It grips me! It’s got me!
[This is the part I want to hide]
I saw a man so beautiful
Rarely is there ever a beautiful man--
a man so beautiful you want to kneel
and scream “You’re so beautiful!”
But instead I’ll worship him in the ways he insists:
by stepping aside on the sidewalk,
by laughing at the jokes he steals from me,
by squandering the money he pays me to do his job.
Is my life a song? Is this the ******* chorus?
It took me three to four years to learn
the difference between worshiping and begging,
between faith and belief
And now I have neither and engage in both and yet
My life feels like a free coffee and bagel
My life feels like an unwrapped candy bar
My life feels like a compliment from a stranger
My life feels like a birthday card with cash in it
Is my life a song? Is this the ******* chorus?
This is my once-yearly poem.
It’s like a broken perfume bottle at the bottom of my bag.
Look at it-- read it. Smell it. Literal swill. Most things make me feel sad, even more things make me feel threatened, especially this poem.
What is there to do but put my head in my hands?
What is there to say if not sorry?
May 21, 2023
May 21, 2023 at 11:49 PM UTC
~
*The beauty
Of your nest
Lies in knowing
What hides within
Is better than the rest
A glimpse through your foliage
Reveals a soft calyx
The petals of which are
The enthroned souls of the faithful
But a trap door nonetheless
When I enter
You will sigh
When I keep at it
You will know why
Angels sing*
~
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 11:18 AM UTC
Dear capricious heart,
I’m sorry for leaving you at the door step of my past self.
I know you’re built with wings that can’t take you to the sky,
But I was made of broken bones, my identity split between a continental divide,
And I was yearning for the moment that I’d come to terms with ambiguity.
Now I feel at ease,
knowing you’ve found comfort in the changing of the seasons,
And I have conquered the impossible task of hearing you beat without apprehension
Oct 17, 2020
Oct 17, 2020 at 3:11 AM UTC
A cloud rests on the surface of the earth
and my heart, like a paperweight,
tethers me to the stormy waters.
I can’t foresee where I’m heading.
But there’s something in the heavy air
compelling my lungs conform to the feeling
of letting go
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 4:27 AM UTC
The ribbon of our lives
tied by our emotions.
Just like
interlaced fingers.
Eternal, just like
my emotions for you.
Unrequited affection.
Never satisfied.
Thirsty for more,
but never attainable.
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 11:30 AM UTC
Within the seconds between night
And day,
In dusk and in dawn,
I dwell in the grey
And balance the moon with the sun.
May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 1:14 AM UTC
The sadness and frigidness are there
When there is no clear communication
Ambiguity is present
Along with a cryptic situation
Nothing but darkness
When words are left unspoken
You block your blessings
As things are sadly blown out of proportion
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 3:28 PM UTC
Regret is not a choice
that you can be sure of
making right
here and now
but never again
shall we be free
for all
I cannot know
what
lies above
began
be gone!
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 3:44 AM UTC
A light flickers for five seconds.
A light goes dark.
A light shines for five seconds.
A light goes dark.
All is light, all is dark.
All is scene, all is lost.
In all the light, all I see is you.
In deepest dark, all I seek is you.
When the light blinds my eyes,
You’re what brings me sight.
When darkness steals my eyes,
You’re presence holds me tight.
Through sharpest light, and darkest night.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 2:30 AM UTC
Swimming pool conversations, half-naked
and touch-ready making an impression
yes
shiny rubbing each other in
under the hems and guess
yes
familiar curious innocence
of drowsing together
no
no desperate glances at him
no way for him to sound out if I
no
no embraces
no sweet words
.....please
no conquest with my *******
.....and longing mouth
no
no making his heart skip
.....with bated breath, waiting
saying no
long before
he asks me
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 3:32 AM UTC
We were so much and then nothing,
We talked like strangers,
And then not at all.
You were gone and the drugs were there,
Powders, pops and smokes,
Numb the pain and the world.
You messaged me again,
Now we are something
But who knows what.
I'd rather have the drugs,
Than this talking,
Avoiding everything.
Why do you torture me?
With all this sweet talk
No answer about us.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC