We are all born in a jar
(with a view of Mother from afar)
and it’s the glass we learn to see through;
refining me while defining you.
Those poor souls whose glass is opaqued
with smudges of fear and cracks of hate,
who never learn to see through
the jar that defines me and contains you;
they are the ones who hope and pray
that you only see your world in their way.
As these souls bloat too large to be contained
they burst the boundaries and are profaned
by the sharp edges of the jar
their rage casts the jagged pieces of;  near and far.
But if, instead, our soul transcends
like light that remains unshattered but only bends
through the glass of our individual jar
and gives a glimpse of just how far
we have, yet, to go and have come:
What beauty, what symphony
we can glimpse more clearly
and ourselves more nearly
when we are willing to see ourselves, ajar.

My Muse is hiding from me;
her absence  a sight to see.
The Anger has forced her away.
She fumes with nothing to say
in the dark hallways of my mind.
The Anger has forced me to find
the center of the once calm passion
that had allowed me to fashion
the words, gifts, My Muse once gave;
I know I am truly her slave.
Has she gone forever?
Were my bonds to her so easy to sever?
And what now can I do
to refresh, recreate, renew
the solace I took in her arms:
Her words, Her whispers, Her charms(?)
With the Anger how am I to be free
and return my Muse to me?
Has she forsaken
the words she has taken
when the anger chased her to silence
and left me choking in my violence…
…and Will she come back with a vengeance
like a period at the very end of a sentence.

We all embraced death,

we did

we forsook warm cells for raging fires!
In hearts of soft lead,
we hid memories of past funeral pyres,

we did.

we chose retribution,
as cold and blind, as rain choosing ground,
of the past, well, we clutched tight hold
and chose a hammer’s sound…

we did.

Do you not all agree!
We exchanged Tomorrow for Today!
It is what we Saw that we choose to See!
What was too heavy we threw away
We held chaos in our fist
to scatter like red, hot seeds,
hoping to add a burning number to our list

Is this the corpse upon which destiny feeds,
our own?

If I fall, another will take my place,
too much spilled blood for mine to end this race.
When, once, from behind the smoky clouds, I glimpsed a star
I knew for certain just how far
from yesterday I have run
And the damage my Tomorrows have done…

We all embraced Death, we did.
And from Our spawn, we ran

And hid.

Is that the rain or tears on your face?
I can trace
the years that have no place
in your eyes.
Is that the wind or a cry
in your voice?
Do the sighs I hear
linger by choice?

Is that quiver in your hand
from the cold or the pain?
Do you wish to go on or do I stand here in vain?

Do I hold out my hand
or grab you ‘fore you fall?
Should I give or demand
or should I care at all?

Do I hear you clearly?
What can I do?
Have the dreams you’ve held dearly
been ripped from you?

Should I hold you tight
or would I just make it worse?
Should I shut off the light
or is darkness a curse?

I stand here feeling the sorrow in your eyes.
I stand here feeling the cold and the pain.
I want to heal you ‘fore that warm light dies.
Are those tears I see, or is it the rain?

She speaks privately from between her legs!

Children scattered about like luke-warm dregs
of life sipped tentatively from the mug
made of her **** and the carefully shorn rug
once atop her ***** but now replaced
with a clever thong and further defaced
by empty words with which no one bothers;
like abandoned motherhood and absent fathers.

Once, long ago, the seas calmed down
if they viewed a full cuntal frown
But now what power yet remains
is washed away and the Tide abstains
from noticing at all that clever ******
of hip carried power, now just animal lust.

God with His magnanimous decree
gave us dominion over all we see
and gave it despite our rampant *****,
waggling ******* and ***** locks!
But our mouths undid us, to the core,
flung man to the ground and named woman ‘*****’.

So now emblazoned for all to see,
above the *****, *******-ly,
the final victim of original sin:
The Unattended Child!  What does he win?

Well, there it is, written bold
above the entrance to the exit of old
“Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy”
Cut the umbilical!  ***** the father!   **** the mommy!

And over coffee, we’ll share some snickers
about the ****** made of her knickers.

                She used to speak from between her legs!
Her **** shouted down oceans and now it begs
for mere notice in words writ small
and forgets why she wears underwear at all.



"Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy. This funny and beautiful design features a vintange inspired cup of espresso."
**an ad for thong underwear, presumably for women

I awake in a dream upon my bed,
upon which I have never lain my head,
to soft sunlight and a gentle wind
through curtains of a life that has never been.

I hear the comforting whispers of hearth and home…
…something I have never known.
Words are spoken from a wife I’ve never met
as plates and forks on a table are set.
“Wake your father.  It’s time to eat.”
Words from a woman, I will never meet.

Footsteps clatter right to my door
until, before me, stands a girl of four.
Her hands held at her chest,
her eyes impale the soul in my breast
She asks, “Daddy, where are you?”
Spoken by a daughter I never knew.

She inhales deep and frees a sigh,
eyes downcast she turns from my bed and I
wake to darkness and sadness, both the same.

I would give my soul for just her name.