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


it is here

we saw it:

cross over the moon

bleeding dune

two shots and your out too,

just another color spectrum

close your eyes and they’ll still select

us; they said they’re mature

after we endured

and we were reassured

it was their bag secured-

Poetry · Writing

oak base

chances are

the me you knew yesterday

is gone;


learned something new experienced something different saw something


he might still walk and breathe the same

the tree you walk past everyday

you wouldn’t notice it everyday

but a new leaf sprouted


on yesterday

Poetry · Writing


two months ago

they threw us in cages

locked away the key

hidden under


nothing, floating concepts

thin layer of blue fabric

and six feet apart.

two months ago

we had to re learn

what was important

how to live

self sufficiently

Poetry · Writing


message read

where have you gone

not the same as you were

where did the old you go.

i am right here.

detox is a process

rid of poison

that snuck up on me

veins purple

singing turtle

got stuck

in oblivion;

so i’ve been climbing,

found a motive worth this trail

the top

has never been

more in sight