Poetry · Writing

hollow being;

i remember screaming;

screaming in the middle of the intersection

no one could hear me

in a box of crystal

peaking out into thousand of faces

none shining back;

for a second

at the corner of her eye

i can see she looked

like lazer right through me

an away

the isolation

i remember the cold tips

of the ever lasting crystal

 

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Poetry · Writing

jungle book:’

it’s raining;

a week of it or so

nothing stronger then the fire

you left and now everything is gunfire,

rounds in my captivity

less and less full activity;

the rain came and it was already a jungle

beast running wild prowling on uneaten remains-

i needed your sun

and the beast came

howling at night

hunting during the day

lay away pathway waste in a day

mayday – mayday

wish we could find the boat that day in may

and sail back, to an island

leave this jungle-

the rain washed away the map

in branches hiding from monsters

looking at the sky

hoping for a pause

looking at the sky

 

Poetry · Writing

blender

it swirls inside me

nothing i can do;

locked in a room and nothing but a light-

hearing the blade swinging round and round

a powerful swosh like top of nike hill

falling;

shaking with floating pieces of a being

i can’t make out

and everything goes black-

falling to pieces breaking bread with an unknown substance

racing the floor punishing like grapes meant to be wine

it’s not fine the blade has spoken

a mango blast

a tango last

Poetry · Writing

the miner

i challenged you;

further then i should have

the cracks are showing and your hair is thin

and i blame myself.

never told you when to stop

showed you how to quit

just a brick and a pedal,

and i only watched.

i should have asked what you were thinking;

what was the miner doing in the deepest part of your thoughts

was it gold he was finding or coal

but seeing your eyes i know what he was finding.

your hands were clean

yet your body ran red

the miner never quit

and you payed the price

and i blame myself.

i could have stopped you

maybe saved you-

now i search the miners left in the dark

the miners left in the dark

Poetry · Writing

yes.

should i?

wander around this empty room reading the same lines until they are burned into my brain

should i?

sing it in a different note feel it bottle in my throat read it write it on a different note

should i?

read about it on the front page kick it into another gauge feed it all into my road rage

should i?

show up at your door let you know this is meant for more i’ll never leave this is what i stand for

should i?

Poetry · Writing

lonely chamber

i believe you only get one

one real shot

at changing the way the world spins;

so will wait

finger on the trigger

eyes pierced into a lens

sweat falling off my brow

ancy as fuck

watching the fire;

knowing there is only one in the chamber-

it won’t come back i’m not ms. jolie

so i have to make this count-

this world wasn’t meant to spin

counter clockwise

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

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

Poetry · Writing

re:1159

it is hard- to not be excited about tomorrow

every second closer to the next

is another closer to you

fear never in the rear

yet, it needs to be just for me

to set a bomb at 1159

will end tomorrow

before the alarm sets

the last tick

tomorrow ends with a crick

in a mellow field

alone.