Poetry · Writing

first floor – second deck hall of a balcony still under construction

i only can picture you

not in a frame or a scrapbook

a memory;

where we all live

in harmony dancing on the first floor

our favorite floor

the song- our song

the one that hasn’t been written

it’s our favorite,

and you’ll hold me

run your fingers through my hair;

(you know i love that shit)

you know i love you

since the moment i saw you

that song began

my- our favorite

on this first floor

of this safe place

Poetry · Writing

a fighter

every inch, was not a promise

gloves without the ring

night without the moon

yet, we are howling.

wanderer without a road

ready for adventure.

and you gave me the map

taught me to read the legend

handed the pen to script the legend.

the spine in my back

the knuckles of my fist

the blood i spill

Poetry · Writing

What’s the Use?

They say you’re nothing without it-

they haven’t seen it win a little

makin’ money wasn’t so lonely

feedin’ kitties wasn’t so phoney

look how far – we – came

can never shed that blame

just want another minute wit’ it

you can leave it, you can love it

they say you’re nothing without it-

so what’s the use?

fourth times the charm

here on my arm

when I had nothin’

shit was always so funny

made a promise to the honey

you’d never be lonely

you can love it-

just freaks – me – out


i just wanna fly

Poetry · Writing

mermaid on seventh avenue

head above the water,

we were not all created equal,

she whispered.

can’t walk down my neighborhood without flashing lights on your rear

this pool is a blessing

for i am meant to be worshiped,

like a mermaid

you’ll never meet another

don’t bother

for i am your queen,

i’ll escort you, for with me,

you are a hazzard on my leash

Poetry · Writing



the back of a billboard read- perish.

lined in black paint and red letters

the chalk outline read- perish.

i didn’t know martin- that’s what i decided to call him

for he has no name other then- perish.

a lasting snapshot across two metal pipes

a slapshot in my memory filed under- perish.

i wrote in my journal to make sense of it;

to find lines to read between to justify time of life

and it all doesn’t just round up to- perish.

so i’ll give him a line, the least i can do

too see that red and black paint

didn’t erase your name

but will live on in mine,

a statue called-


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

a lot

after you’ve lost your job and the world is crashing

what will you have;

when the night is swerving down the highway with a half empty glass

what will you have;

fresh off the books heading down the tunnel toward a chair and a needl

what will you have;

remembering those few days rowing down to the river with the kids

kids with a pole and some bait late in the evening with a catch

catch a memory the size of a tuna under moon before the long night

night, that night- we had it all