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

Hurt Feelings

I’m always sayin’ I won’t change but

I ain’t the same


everything is different,

and it’s for the best. Movin’ up and down

through the city, makin’ moves

fuse defused

walkin’ in my shoes.

Heavy isn’t it?

Can’t pick up the phone

it’s to heavy, wait until quarter till

and drop the call.

Not even a hint of regret

it’s the cold that gives me pause,

and the hint of your paws

that drops my jaw.


But is it enough-

I can’t complain,

don’t know what you’re missin’

shame on you-

another ones trash

is another ones treasure,

momma said that once

and I keep hittin’ that thrift store

shop till ya drop

and I’ll give

when I wasn’t asked-

that’s on me

Poetry · Writing


I don’t need to lie no more

Nowadays all I do is shine, take a breathe and ease my mind.


It’s funny to look back-

been living there for a while,

the road was stunted, never had a way out.

Could have said no, and I never would have ended up here.


Normal life, normal job, normal wife

nothing wrong with that-

just a laugh thinking what it was and

who I was, and I’m far from normal.


The desert groomed me, treated me

left bruises- hidden deep and deeper

ocean wishes it was this deep

and this is wild


wonder who is wearing those old shoes-

those idle barring fools.

A time I would be envious

was a jeep driving Seven


and now- I’m chasing your dreams.

The one on the painted glass-

but it was your sight

that give me my foresight


It ain’t 2009 no more

Yeah, I know what’s behind that door

Poetry · Writing


Feel like I do this in my sleep

Literally, I do this in my sleep


Chef is still at the palace,

home cookin’

she is awaitin’ her meal,

sweet savory

just a princess,

a princess and she’s becoming a Queen today,

fresh livin’.


They’ll write about who she was

and tell stories of who she is

and I’ll let you know how close they are.

Poetry · Writing


I got a bone to pick like roses

I ain’t feelin’ broken no more-


I haven’t stopped, you’re playing twenty-five eight

self-torture, self-care is on the list- though.


and I’d put some money on forever

still swimming like an ocean


no second hand- beating yourself up

this is something serious.


and I know it’s up to me

ball in my court, keeping score


crossing lanes new and new

and you’ll play from time to time.


and the walls keep gettin’ wider, I just hope I never find ’em

no, no and these are my wings


a second to adjust and take off

and I’ll shoot.

Poetry · Writing

My Favorite Part

Said, you just don’t know how beautiful you are

and baby that’s my favorite part


walkin’ in a petal dance

of tulips carefree and effortlessly

and I’ll watch every step

you’re an angle to my eyes


you walk around so clueless to it all

like nobody gonna break your heart


and I won’t baby girl

it’s all mine and my precious sweetheart

and I’ll take my time

my love won’t go


and it’ll be alright babe, see, me, I got you covered

I’m gon’ be your lover, you might be the one


and I’d give anything to keep

how priceless that is

step by step and dancing slow

and worth every penny


if it’s only tonight, ayy, we don’t need to worry

we ain’t in a hurry, rushin’ into love.

Poetry · Writing

Watching Movies

people worship these idols,

’til they come in contact with Gods-


singin’ along, never spent a day out

places always been sold out

never took the day off

only here to make my mom proud

and now, it’s a takeoff

sail around the world no Statefarm


and I’ll be here,

not backing down-

sail the world no feature

director smoking weed

no deleted scenes

please come home

live under the family tree

I’ll be there when all is said and done

buried like the rest

it’s not my time.