Poetry · Writing


I have to write.

I stare at this blank page

and it stares back

taunts me.

It feeds off me

like a leech it

feast on my fears for breakfast

and sips my anxiety like tea.

Never satisfied

until I write.

So here I sit

Staring through this open window

waiting for the magic.

From a home I can’t explain

neighbor of imagination

down the block from love

Or is it hate.

Next to the house that always cooks barbecue.

That smell that sweeps the block

through open windows

love hate relationship with your belly

as it fights for something more.

Yet, here I sit

waiting for the magic.

Watching this orange fuck

slowly crush our stars

gathering Universal’s Minions

calling himself Gru

wasting on a par 4

stealing candy from unborn babies

from the home that he

is burning to the ground.

Closing our window

after only a few months



Need to-

Look for the magic.

Gather fingertips

the window is still open


Don’t fly

We still have to fight.


Here I stand.


silent page.

Starting at the open window.

Needing to make humans think

think twice

and tell them a lie

that this window

Will always be open.

Poetry · Writing

the day before yesterday

Planning for the future

with a hammer

and a couple nails.

It’s a joke

I know

but it’s the truth.

The nails are a bit rusted

felt like I should mention that.

Bent too.

Head to Home Depot

to have your card rejected

but find a two by four

on the way home.


Buddy said she had

some parts for me,

pity screw.

Looking up already,

call it a note worthy day.


Poetry · Writing


The black panther lives in the rainforest.

This is the home of Faith.

The promising work of a florist.

Home forever even as a wraith.


Enchanting the world with sunny kisses.

Always with you like a reprise.

True nature’s cheery missus.

In spring time, love is carried on the breeze.


Her beauty undeniable by all.

All wanted to see what she could achieve.

Impossible to foresee thee befall.

This panther bows as she takes her leave.


All panthers ache and weep.

Rest now in your beauty sleep.


Poetry · Writing


pick ya feet up

not a three legged pup

i watched you sprint up and down the street

screaming from a stop sign you don’t know defeat

now limping around

on the stand is a crown

lyin’ around

now you got your feet up

stay up you are ’bouta blow up

don’t move; this is your close up

hit it with concrete

keep your receipt

you’re on the hot seat;


Poetry · Writing


i believe it’s meant to be

when the rain swept away

the nine on the night of wine

left all on the right wing

so i sink

swept away on the nine

i remember the wine

in boxes- floating

sent away with a sticker in rain

meant to be

swept in the rain


on the night of wine

Poetry · Writing

board game

i can’t answer

i missed that day


wasn’t invited

locked out of a room

i thought i had a key to

locks changed

password changed

but everyone swears it’s all the same

just pieces on a board game

saying sorry you missed all the clues

lost in a twister a ride for uno

they say to risk it all

but the monopoly you have

on the ships of battle

leaves my ticket to ride


Poetry · Writing

hollow being;

i remember screaming;

screaming in the middle of the intersection

no one could hear me

in a box of crystal

peaking out into thousand of faces

none shining back;

for a second

at the corner of her eye

i can see she looked

like lazer right through me

an away

the isolation

i remember the cold tips

of the ever lasting crystal


Poetry · Writing

stars and bars

you’re the baddest bitch

and you know it

everyone can see it

and this is the sales pitch;

stop playing.

i can see the practice

in the batters cage

straight to lights on centers stage

just to distract us;

i’m staying.

this world is yours

a seat for me in the front

my favorite scene i do my own stunts

above the stars and bars;

you’re slaying.