The book of my poems,
Means so much to me.
Come, read oh distant traveler,
May you feel the words I silently speak,
In times of distress my reflection of frustration enters this book freely,
I rather write away my realization than sink and sulk in sorrows like seas.

Read and understand my little wisdom,
I believe God granted it to me.
Come in the wall of my little kingdom,
I assure you love and loyalty.
I am no scholar nor the wisest of men,
Yet my heart cries and my tears the ink to my pen.

Forgive me distant traveler,
Only words i have for thee.
No silver nor gold nor vanity resides inside of me.
A cancer who slowly kills the body and makes it no more to be,
Like a man with no foundation and ambition his eyes can allow him to see.

one line at a time
more addicting than coke
-i deserve this
this is my punishment
-for my cruelty
my self inflicted pain
scheduled payment
‘tis my debt
owed to karma
she’s more relentless
than a mortgage broker
she knocks three times
-at no specific time
always unannounced
makes herself at home
-so much so
that I feel like a stranger
to my own homestead
-lifelong debt

Rooftops give stage to
an elemental concert.
Interlude awaits.

Splashes of gold stirred
into a midnight cocktail.
Bleary eyes shrouded.

I watch
As she
Descends

Her light reaching out
Trying to hold on
Till the very end

But as I watch
I know
I’m not alone

In my peripheral
There is a man
Looking out
Sitting on stones