The bigger they are the harder they fall
That's what they say
and who could get bigger
than movie pictures
It all could be so nice
The influence could've been grand
Instead glorification of lust
Disgusting portrayal of what is
Real life stories told as it really happened
This is glorified
Hoarding, glorified
Prostitution, glorified
Drugs, glorified
Mob gangsters, glorified
Violence and gore, family favorites
Give and give to those who don't care
Clean up their mess
So they can do it again and again
Crying in self pity
Golden globes & Oscars go to the most degrading
Most disturbing images there are

I want only that you are happy.
That you find joy in unexpected places
and in unexpected ways.
That you find wealth in the rich spirits of others
and sweet new memories.
But mostly
I hope you find love in a doorway
that will refuse against all of your pushing
to stay shut.

Writers lie
we create works of fiction and we pour our souls into it.
It's no wonder that we lie.
About the silliest things.
I can't stop it.
I am so passionate.
About everything.
Maybe
that contributes too.
But I don't know.
I like to blame it on
being a
writer.

When you ask of me, why poetry
I'm not sure you understand
That it's the center of my universe
The very depth of who I am

The molecules in the air I breath
Oxygen pulsing through the veins
The storm brewing beneath the surface
The pounding of the rain

It's the timeless anticipation
Of the thought that's yet to come
The tearing open of life's seam
The beating of the drum

The first peak of the desert flower
When it feels the gentle touch of spring
The smile in the eyes of a child
And all the joy it brings

The in and out of the tide
In the pulling of the waves
When you ask of me, why poetry
What more is there to say