Poetry · Writing

Mr. Logan

it’s over.

the smiles of the veterans

stories of war

memories of their loved ones

all in a photo

i’ll remember you Mr. Logan,

it was just a place of business

like any other

your stories made it like any other

i am going to miss it,

wish i got the chance to tell you

that will be gone

to point you to a worthy place for your stories

an ear that would care;

i’m sure you’re having a drink with your son right now


enjoy the day bud,

you’ve earned it

Poetry · Writing

the wanderer

the wanderer has no reflection

a boulder tumbling down a road

left bloody by her wife

wonderous by her mistress

alone by her husband

the wanderer has no reflection

they; walk

to find


a no name feeling

a response to a question

on a dotted line

written in invisible ink

revealed by


the wanderer doesn’t know

if you know

and you see the wanderer

on the road you avoid most

let her know

she misses her wife

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

trojan horse

we fall

we rise

we find each other at the bottom

it’s not where we started but we here

here at a fountain;

throwin’ dimes

wishin’ for a miracle:

feedin’ weedin’ threw the muk at the bottom

can i get a dolla fifty?

fifty begging for air


we got here

out of the weeds

through the open doors

into a day

where we could breathe fresh air

where the mornings are filled with jelly toast and cartoons

where the nights are not filled with open prayers and sealed letters

and this is Troy

Poetry · Writing

level up – 27th club

chalk it up to good luck

made it without mac

this is what he was afraid of

see what i am made of

i wish you could see what i became

you joined the club last week just walking knees

now it’s me survived on a breeze nowyour heart is at ease-

the man that i am- you would of hated it

you hated everything; but you would of thrown

a killer 27th club party

Poetry · Writing

Beach House

I have people in my life

that I see myself growing old with.

The love of my life, yes.

I’ve had the same few people here,

since day one. I see us,

living in a beach house.

No cloudy forest or

haunted houses

a beach house playing bridge;

I’ve never played but we will learn.

I see you guys their,

and it’s something I take for granted

because you’ve always been

like a shadow following me it’s always been there

like warmth in the summer and cold in the winter

I can see that beach house.

Not the place,

but the memories.

People come and go-

some pay rent and stay a little longer

but as the tides rise the only ship

to test time was this friendship.