And that’s gotta mean something,
perhaps symbolizing the constant march of time
or the impermanence of what we rely upon.

Or it could be more personal,
so that my house’s projection
is no longer erect.
The shelter from the storm,
no longer sheltering;
impotent protection.

Or, it is just that a tree had to fall,
when hit by winds of 90 mph,
and the direction of the gust,
combined with the untrimmed foliage,
and the comparative strength of some
branches as opposed to others
led to the half of the tree that
crushed my porch, caving it in.
But what’s poetic about that?

Filtered Expectations

April 3, 2015

The filtered sunlight
shines on bare ground,
lighting and warming
where there’s nothing to feed,
merely a dry expanse of dirt,
covered with unraked leaves.
Yet still, the sunlight shines,
lighting and warming over
my filtered expectations.

Questioned Idealism

April 1, 2015

What makes you happy?
What makes you you?
Follow your dreams
and you’ll be happy too!

And here I sit
at age thirty and three,
living my dream as a teen,
while often wanting to scream.

Is this what I wanted,
back as a teen?
Why did I not
dream bigger dreams?

Or why were my dreams
not made up of dollar signs,
things that are well worth my times?

Behind all these questions,
I know the answer quite well.
I do what I do because
I want to give a hell.

except for when it doesn’t.
But we never remember that
because those are losers anyway
and what do they matter?

And this too, my friend,
it will also improve,
just wait and you’ll see.
Unless it doesn’t,
and you’re just screwed.


March 22, 2015

Fill me up a cup,
Cause it’s been a long day.
And I’d love to say
That I’ve been out on the range.
Ropin’ the cattle,
And cuttin’ off their balls,
Brandin’ my mark,
Coverin’ it all.
But, I think you know me,
Know me enough to say
That all I’ve been doin’,
Doin’ the live-long day,
Is playin’ some video games
And watchin’ some TV.
But even so, I feel the need,
The need to get some whisky in me.

The Lecture Hall

March 17, 2015

Tans abound, bathed in
reflecting, radiating, vibrating
softly, glowing fluorescent light.

Worn carpet rests under;
never-in-style patterns surround
as ideas are tossed lazily about.

Some have merit,
some do not.
Some are young and vibrant,
most are not.

Reflected, radiated, vibrated
in lifeless fluorescent light,
surrounded by worn tans,
trying not to stand out.


March 13, 2015

I used to be better at this,

but no matter, for still I go

up and down, down and up.

And as I climb, I see you there,

over the fence, laying in the sun.

Then all I see is wood, on the descent,

until yet again, there you are,

smiling as you see me.

And too late, I return an awkward smile,

only to have it blocked by the downward fall.

But just as gravity sucks me down,

so also will it spit me up again,

and perhaps you’ll see me smile back.

Spring Break

March 12, 2015

If holidays were ranked,

first of course would be

the holiday of holidays,

the everythingakidcouldwantallrolledintoone extravaganza!

Of course I’m talking about Christmas.

And I can see the argument, of course,

to rank Thanksgiving next,

with the food and the leaves,

and the food and the family,

and, of course, the food and the, did I say food?

But up there somewhere is the break of spring,

which trades presents for getaways

and trades family for lazy days.

And, yes, the food may not be as nice,

but I’d trade it for sleeping late twice.

A Heart of Flesh

March 8, 2015

A heart of flesh

is a dangerous thing

because it causes so much pain.

How much easier I always find it to be

to live with a heart of stone

inside of me.

Because a stone does not feel.

Because a stone has no need to heal.

Instead, it just chips away,

weathered and ripped apart

by the wind and the rain.

And flesh is just so weak,

able to be stabbedtornbroken

by the hands of man.

And it hurts so much to feel,

because every piece that breaks

causes so much ache.

So the temptation is so strong

to be a stone that rolls along

without feeling,

without touching,

without purpose.

But that life is not for me,

not since I looked at that tree.

And that life is not for me,

because even through the pain

a heart of flesh can find joy in the rain.


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.


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