Hands burned on my knees
coffin almost nailed shut tight
lie in Winter bed.
Writing, Ideas, & Stories
Hands burned on my knees
coffin almost nailed shut tight
lie in Winter bed.
I believe in your way
your voice
the tidy way your hair falls
on to mine.
Walking wasn’t easy
still isn’t
but I need your voice
to be heard.
Spread tales of wisdom
and equality to readied ears
to bring the new world
with ready arms.
Tyrants scream
for submission
Maidens plead
for mercy.
I hear
and will bend
my own knee
without warrant.
March
March
March on.
Will meet in the front
and I’ll be there.
March for the truth
that you found
in our future.
And I’ll be there.
March
March
March.
I don’t regret knowing you
I regret how I left things.
reach out
open your mouth
phone call away
never on silent.
Loneliness
will take your voice
your hand
your keys
and you.
Don’t forget me
us
in the temporary swarm of darkness
I’ll still be here.
I might not know everything
what I want is never the exception.
The train will stall
smoke erupts
but it’ll get there.
I’ll always prefer Cherries
and I’ll be the Mango
and be by the trees
waiting to fall.
I can see
what’s wrong with everything
and everyone
yet offer no solutions.
Watching from afar
taking a ball point and scrape
across your foreheads
‘F’.
Be better
do better
but on your own I’ll say.
Time to find the answers
to find the truth
I’ll always find
the failure.
It’s my favorite sound
the ‘tink’ of two glasses
cheering in the New Year.
The ‘tink’ of a third
echo of a rim shot
a block away.
I hear it in my dreams
when it’s another’s
nightmare.
Following the blind
and encouraging
the lost
to tighten your helmet
one notch tighter.
Seductive sharpened touch
on cold unreceptive skin.