Acid wash away my pain release me from this blinkered Bleach burns me clean and pure tear shreds off my heart and break me Down Until time bleeds on my just Reward And bleaches this world just like The All … Continue reading Bleach. A poem.
At the end of the affair, when all is lost, was won, when the final note is written when all has come undone. The longing and the passion converted now to envy, the embers now black charcoal of fires that … Continue reading The End of the Affair. A poem.
I hang on your every word. Every nuance and subtlety tightens your noose and I gasp and grasp for air and the latency of truth. My limbs flail in puppet motions; I’m a paper doll with button joints, anointed in … Continue reading Hangman. A poem.
Caught, Caged and Sentenced. A haiku trilogy. Caught You have trapped me here. I once wandered, so lonely, until your net fell. Caged I am in your cage, your pristine cell; I’m locked in, pacing back and forth. Sentenced Will … Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Caught, Caged and Sentenced’. A haiku trilogy.
My futile and unavailing words cannot express the anguished, quixotic, melancholic, mad salience and utterly unquenchable need to hold you and love you as no one ever could or would or should. But here I am, alone. Thinking of nothing … Continue reading The Madness of You. A poem.
This oil, viscous and thick, holding me fast in the tar pit of my black heart and head, since the very start. Wish I could shed this black dog That follows me everywhere. Perhaps soon, anon, I’ll lose my empty … Continue reading This Oil. A poem.
This room is overcrowded, ingurgitated hell. But just you and me, if you subtract everyone else. This room is clamorous, cacophonous hell. But you could hear me (so very clearly), if you subtract everyone else. This room is overheated, agitated … Continue reading Subtract. A poem.
Driftwood, floating on percolating tides. Saltwater soaks fossil branches. Sand embraces nooks and crannies. Driftwood, meandering, awaiting a tactile, tacit end. Longing for a final, lasting beach head. The All or the Nothing is my first book of poetry, and … Continue reading Driftwood (Beached, part 3). A poem.
Your bold sweetness leaves the bitter taste of regret, a sensate lamentation, dissonant on my tongue. This saccharine tinge leaves me cold and wanting; a vine that dies from frost that sears the roots black and returns them back to … Continue reading Saccharine. A poem.
Climb. Against the winds that claim this bitter peak, that scrape and slurry and mince no words but enforce dominion and push and pull and drag you down until you can climb no more. Climb. My first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available … Continue reading Climb. A poem.
Why do I always linger longer in this place? Why do I capitulate to my black dog space? I throw the stick for him and he brings it back for me to beat myself again, so he can jump and … Continue reading Linger Longer. A poem.
Strangely surprised: it would seem I believed that I’d be so much wiser from here on, indeed. It just took one glance and I’m back on the teat, pride reined in per chance, all humility. Strangely surprised that there’s no … Continue reading Strangely Surprised. A poem.
Here I am, brought to heel by poor choices and destiny, to learn a well-earned lesson of respect and humility. Here behind this concrete veil, my hope is born anew. All thin facade and curtain call, a life sentence, all … Continue reading Concrete. A poem.
Deserted. Desert winds wax and wane around my anxious senses, tinged with the scent of the exotic, the lingering perfume of your passing. I track through the remnants of my wandering wastrel heart, amongst tumbleweeds of loss and regret, wondering … Continue reading Deserted. A poem.
My walls. Are. Black As oil and just as wet. Wet. … Continue reading My Black Walls. A poem.
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