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

Fight The Feeling

“They’re gonna try to tell you no, shatter all your dreams. But you gotta get up, and go and think of better things.” – M


Breathe- never fight it just let life in

an empty map not to mark it would be a mortal sin

meet your twin

out livin’ laughin’ makin’ love till the season changes

and it ranges but she is an angel

makin’ life worth lovin’ she told me

you can’t fight the feeling

never wasted moments been at my lowest

left with your condolence my own opponent

endless roaming and never frozen

but I was chosen through self demotion

can’t feel emotion just want to live on the ocean

through all the commotion I can hear her say-

you can’t fight the feeling.

you can’t fight the feeling.


Poetry · Writing

when asked when to love;

never put much stock in the market

wanted to

be the standout price or waited for one to find me

silly or asleep

being to bee but always the worker never the queen

crying fiend

two types and always the catcher catching when you fall

standing tall

call when you say you miss me always nearby you make me wanna

be a good guy

when you say i love you i know the time is right now

here somehow

markets closed now lesson learned when asked when

now and then

time and again the one will find you and never a minute ahead

Poetry · Writing

pocket explosion

chances are

i will blow it

i carry grenades and landmines in my pockets

set to detonate

whenever the fuck i feel like it

usually random

i can remove them

but they find their way back

buy you have been here

through all my pocket explosions

minor house fires

and inability to watch a movie without being a critic

you are here

i will not spoil the ending

but i am going to keep the girl

Poetry · Writing

sunshine airline

i never miss a lost second

it was gone and while missing

i missed another-

i felt that when your smile first touched mine

in the moments when you were gone

i was lost time

robbed from a bully with a checklist on his forehead

guilt was checked

depression was checked

and loss was next

but i found a way to make time stand still-

when your smile touches; mine

it feels like a sunshine airline

so close to the gods i can hear their stories

your voice calm and sedative

i can count the seconds in between my fingers

they choose to linger when your smile touches mine

and when they ask

when the kids gather to ask how i can stop time

i will tell them

i can’t show them this trick

without my wonderful partner

Poetry · Writing

three hands

two or three times

i counted the hands of the clock on the wall-

i know there is two

normally two

but time stopped

i wanted to be anywhere else but here

if the clock had an extra hand

i would know

i would be dreaming


but the clock has two hands

and i am still stuck

nothing my own

except these hands

bound by time