#vest
I built this thing in the basement years
when the house was a different kind of quiet,
with my father’s shrapnel and my mother’s
suitcase full of landmines. The manual was
whispered warnings, the screws were
sharp glances across a dinner table.
I learned to measure my ribs for Kevlar,
to weld the plates over a heart that kept
trying to be soft in a hard, hard place.
I wore it to bed. I wore it to school.
I wore it so long I forgot the weight
was a choice and not just the way
a body has to be.
The vest is on the floor between us now---
a shed exoskeleton, a dead weight.
It looks so small now, doesn’t it?
So much smaller than the fear it carried.
And you---you’re kneeling beside it,
not looking at it, but at me,
with those eyes that say
I see the wound and I will not become the weapon.
You lay your palm flat against my sternum,
right where the vest used to sit heaviest,
and you don’t push.
You just whisper, “I know what a trigger feels like.
My hands are only here to steady the air.”
And for the first time,
when the old story tells me to flinch,
I don’t.
I breathe into the bulls-eye of your touch
and find it’s not a target at all---
it’s a compass,
pointing home.
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 3:05 PM UTC
A young soldier who came from Beirut,
Though he tried, he just couldn't shoot
The young man and his gang
All went out with a bang
In a bomb laden vest 'neath his suit
Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 4:59 PM UTC
Tonight, I laid with thee—
In this room,— Whence thou liberated these ******* to seams,
Thy vest unlocked the chest to beat—
Hush...
The empty black skies,—
I wilt pray with thee—
With two candles intertwined..
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC
Where one could only place a thought on rest,
but for a moment, reflections that are addressed
on eyelids needing the collection of bedtime unrest.
My blankets are woven in comas of oppression
as when my eyes are entombed and depressed.
No one realizes that when they pass this dispossessed
huddle, lives life never given a moment as were oppressed.
For below this perceived cluster of a homeless man dressed,
is the dignity of man once upon a time blessed.
But I fell or stumbled, now my body slumbers on a headrest.
All that others see is a robin who lost his dignified vest.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
I want a denim vest,
ripped at the sleeves,
grim patches and buttons.
So I searched through the thrift shops.
Everything was too large, or too tight,
or cut in a style thatt was not quite right.
In the isles were old ladies
who probably bought the clothes
donated by dead friends.
In a corner, marked off for books,
stood Ginsberg, bespectacled and urging,
"You are not a locomotive!"
But I chugged on by,
all steam and whistles,
neck a bristle with eerie misease
that Ginsberg is dead,
like the old ladies' friends,
and I can only find denim
with sleeves.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 1:56 AM UTC
Its in these waters, when I was merely a Parr
Or as you might refer to me as a fry,
This wise but young Brook Trout cruised the slow water with my kinfolk fry.
Moving to and fro hiding among the biome vegetation
The sunlight supported my living space and warmed my growth rings.
I dart in and out of the oxygenated seams which help me flourish.
Some days, I had to use stealth to outwit the pine marten and warblers,
I shadowed the cattail and watched them fill their bellies with those around me.
But I felt fate had a purpose for me to be something special.
And When the time was right, I'd propel myself above the water into the night air.
The large circle of orange light filled my eyes and the night sky was filled with luminary.
I imagined what it must be like to live outside this riffle domain.
This morning, through my refractory vision I spot some floating objects,
And through an inherited sensory recall I can see these are hatching green Drakes.
I immediately shoot to the surface and fill my stomach, then swim back to the undercut for cover.
As the years pass by and maturity abounds, I find my self settling in behind a large boulder
Right at the tail out of the back eddy, providing me with an ample food supply.
And it's here I prefer to live my life in the slow current, content and peaceful.
And one day as I swam into the current seam, I spotted what appeared to be,
A different looking bug with yellow belly, so I make my move.
He's not moving much so I decide to raise my head above the water line and sip.
As I grab the hopper I start to slide back behind the boulder,
When I feel a pinch, as if someone try's to pull me towards the surface
I fight with all my might but this force proves to be stronger than I.
It's now I realize a human reels me towards the shore line, and I'm fearful.
This one called a human, grabs my tail and places his hand on my under belly.
Pulling me from my home, he dislodges the hook from my mouth. I gasp for oxygen.
He looks me over from nose to tail, smiles and says how beautiful I am.
He looks me in the eye And says " This was a wonderful fight my friend, enjoy the rest of your life,
He places me back in water, gently reviving me and finally lets me swim away.
I dare to turn and look back at him for a moment and as he continues to watch me,
I hear him say " I fish, knowing everyday on this stream is a gift."
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
As grease
green as
shay near
beef where
action shot
her bear
that duty
ready deserved
honor and
criminal tied
worship then
in vain
seized fore
Philadelphia awaited
inner city
flight of
doves return.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC
*The sky lost blue
in favor of magenta that day.
She was dreaming
again of romance and love.
Of hands about her waist
in the kitchen.
Her bed hot with his passion for her
She wanted fire and excitement
She never noticed ordinary old me.
I was her only confident?
Yes her best friend.
Watch my lips honey
they whisper love.
So much what you need.
So much what I want.
Last night she went to the bar
Once again seeking
Blue eyes and a smile
of heats promise?
She ignored my lips
that were ready
to explode my love for her.
My needs for herv
all in her body?
For the casual smile
of a handsome stranger.
Who would take
her needs and wants
And use them
to pleasure himself.
Why can’t she see
its me she needs
It’s me who can
put fire in her bed.
And hands about her waist
As she cooks pasta for dinner.
Or needs a hug
its me only me?
I know I have the thing
she needs most.
A heart that is full of love
Just for her.*
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
You could feel it in the atmosphere
Things were set to change
The girl from the Midwest was here
And things got mighty strange
She came from Kansas, the mid west
She was country through and through
But when she came in wearing that red vest
You never knew what she would do
She's a Kansas sized tornado
coming back from Kansas way
You couldn't click your heels
to get back home
This girl, she came to play
Like the storm that dropped
Upon the witch
This girl, she was a force
No red shoes there to help you out
You'd best get on your horse
Not a big girl..full of fight
You'd best stay back a bit
She was wound up really tight
And she knew just how to hit
Leaving damage in her wake
Seemed to be what she did best
Just leave her be when she comes in
And she's wearing that **** vest
She's a Kansas sized tornado
coming back from Kansas way
You couldn't click your heels
to get back home
This girl, she came to play
Like the storm that dropped
Upon the witch
This girl, she was a force
No red shoes there to help you out
You'd best get on your horse
Flying monkees in the sky
couldn't stop the storm she brought
She was nasty trouble, by and by
Like a devil can't be caught
You'd kick your heels and wish she'd leave
Back with the wicked witch
Cause when she showed up in our bar
That night would be a *****
She's a Kansas sized tornado
coming back from Kansas way
You couldn't click your heels
to get back home
This girl, she came to play
Like the storm that dropped
Upon the witch
This girl, she was a force
No red shoes there to help you out
You'd best get on your horse
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
There is no hair on my chest;
My eyes are deep dark
Which i heard you say
Are the ones you do not like.
I have a crooked smile
With good intentions
Unlike the guys
You hang around.
I comb my hair with a part
Over to to my right side
And i dress to impress
A lady that does not care.
I will still walk
With my chin up
And my getup squared
Just because
She does not care.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC
I think this does not do me justice,
It is an ill fit, I wear underneath
Even though it doesnt quite fit.
I wear it for others, to make
A statement to show others my
Dedication, for a cause that
Will show those that I am like
No others, I do what I feel is right.
I wear it with pride, as I walk through
A crowd, children laughing as adults
Walk around. do they look at me guessing
The vest I wear is about a statement.
I look around as I do what must
Be done this vest is a message, I
Am everywhere in a split second as
Screams and silence scream out
All at once.
I was a person who wore a vest
It was ill fitting, but now those
Who didnt know me, now see me as I
Showed them my vest, to the world
A statment heard not by voice but
By the person wearing this vest.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:55 AM UTC
stress like the rest I’m trying to get something off my chest. its a weight so great my body begins to shatter all i want to do is yell but this weight is hell it pushes all the air from my lungs till they are bare. do you even care? are you even there? stress is the pain in my chest it feels like cardiac arrest i feel like i should be wearing a bullet proof vest because I’m wearing a red target on my chest. just something to aim at. stress is a mess with no clear way to clear a path without being cluttered by fear. it will bring tears, it will make you think of the ones you hold dear, stress is that weight on your chest making you feel oppressed. its something i deal with normally dont worry i dont repress. i paint it on this page with each move i make a digital valve releases letting you read this.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC