March 4, 2015

I’m tired of being defined
by circumstance
by apathy
by me

So moving forward, this is the plan
to be brave
to be tough
to be what I want

And I am quite sure
that I’ll slip
that I’ll fail
that I’ll fall

But I can live with that
just as long
as I keep on
being who I want to be.

Father’s Day

June 21, 2012

“Father knows best,”
they used to say,
but I know what’s in my chest,
and usually it’s not Okay;

And considering dear old dad,
I can’t believe it’s true;
he’s never been too bad,
I’m just not convinced he knew;

Then there is dad number two,
who ran far, far away
at the old age of forty-two,
and then died on a highway;

Finally there is dad number three,
the next roll of the dice,
who may be lucky,
who may be lightning striking thrice.

Call it what you will

October 10, 2011

Call it lack of sleep
or call it low blood sugar;
Call it irritable bowels
or call it laundry day;

Call it what you will
but please call it something,
to give a name that will cover
the funk that was today.

I’m a little tight,

September 25, 2011

and I like it,
as the sensation spreads
from the head,
through the neck,
relaxing the shoulders,
and the breathing releases
and the heart rebounds
so that i’m not tight at all,
and I like it.

The Elevator

September 14, 2011

The doors have closed,
but down I don’t go,
instead content

to hear the buzzing
of unknown origin,

to lean on the wall
of cool, cool metal,

to enclose myself
in a metal box,

where there is no noise
and there is no strife;
there is no movement in the box,
but somehow I end
on another floor.

my coffee runneth over

April 26, 2011

yet unclench, I shall not!
refusing to render
the satisfaction of release,
despite the pain!
despite the heat!
despite the puss filled blisters,
fit to burst,
I shall not unclasp!
I shall not remit!
I shall hold the cup!
for within is the only salvation
of this beautifully sunny spring morning.

a moment of clarity

April 20, 2011

in the pushing, pull,
thoughtsfearsapprehensions fade;
straining clears the mind

i’d send this all away;
i’d walk right out the door
and never look for more.

i’d grow my hair long,
my beard would be fit for song,
and all anyone would see
would be the slightest resemblance of me.

i’d turn into a bum,
and shut myself in from the sun,
only coming out at night,
to protect my eyes from the light.

and no one would give me a thought,
i’d let me reputation rot,
glad to have finally disappeared,
glad to have finally repaired.

running off the edge

April 18, 2011

but the edge keeps moving,
keeping pace with my every step,
refusing to submit to my ardent desire:
to throw myself off,
to fall off the edge,
to see the end of it all
as it begins again
and again,
each and every day.

the art dealer

April 15, 2011

sat there, lonely
in the flow of the crowd,
watching the passers-by
and all of the drug-store connoisseurs,
waiting for the real buyer
that he knew would never come.
but still he waits.
and is there even now,
silently judging the drug-store connoisseurs.

if i were a killer

April 13, 2011

i’d never let you know.
i’d look you in the eye
and laugh at all your jokes,
while disarming all your fears.

i’d stand up straight.
i’d dress just right,
and always tuck in my shirt,
while never forgeting my belt.

i’d hold a respectable job.
i’d talk about it all the time,
and rub elbows with the elite,
while winning over your mom.

i’d be everything you wanted.
i’d be everything you needed,
and when you least expected,
i’d gladly slit your throat.

the garden

April 4, 2011

regularly spaced
and free of weeds;
full of potential,
full of hope;
but potential has been squandered,
and hope has been crushed;
so what will it be this time?
what will you be this time?
and what will i?

and he grew

April 4, 2011

and grew
until he was unrecognizable,
and even more so to himself,
doing things never before conceived
just six months before,
becoming something new
with every passing day,
unsure of what he would be;
surprisingly unconcerned.


March 12, 2011

running into friends,
or something like that,
who have not been seen
for at least two years,
and yet there is a connection;
and yet there is a collection;
of shared feelingshopesdreamsloves
that is not easily lost,
even by the passing of time;
even by the passing.

Cup O’Noodle

March 9, 2011

with a stolen spoon,
not cleaned from last time,
noodle-iscious attack!


March 8, 2011

breathe in.
breathe out.
but it’s still the same.
now shut the eyes
and plug the headphones,
while dialing up some mates.
and maybe things will be better
by the song’s end…

like a bad grape

March 7, 2011

you are slightly deformed
and while I consider eating you,
the thought of your strange projection,
bursting in my mouth,
is slightly sickening;
and though I know that in a dark room
i would never notice,
in the light, i just can’t do it.

so i will zip you up,
and lock you away from the outer air;
then i will forget you;
and in a few weeks, purely by accident,
perhaps i will find you,
and perhaps I will marvel,
and perhaps my curiosity will lead me
to take a long overdue bite.

looking up,
that’s all there was;
and as the question hung,
what answer could there be?

and that’s when we turned,
and walked away.
never looking back.
never holding on.
never regretting.


March 2, 2011

i’ve got to shake this feeling
but it won’t be shaken,
sneaking up again,
catching me at unawares,
just when I look away





clawing my shoulders,
scrabbling to hold on,
slowly burrowing;
forcing its head
into my head;
forcing my head
out of its head;
until soon,
all that I was
will be gone
and all that I will be
is parasitic.

A Cheetoh for Chester

March 1, 2011

Good naturedly Chester looked up
with a look of self-assured superiority,
incongruent, to say the least,
with the slightest of oranging.


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