Poker-faced, a nascent clarity before my eyes; while behind confusion and regret in tides, that while away the dawdling time. I seek to speak but find no words to fill the vacant mire that fills this space with more pregnant, … Continue reading Castaway. A poem.
This maze we walk, denies a bitter truth. Our fingers trace its periphery and yet still we walk in circles. If escape is what we truly yearn then perhaps there is no maze at all. Or perhaps the maze is … Continue reading This Maze. A poem.
In the blackest, midnight hour, wandering perpetual halls, wondering if you’ll clear your dreams of demons and finally get to sleep. Your trackless thoughts always return to her and her alone; You grasp your hands and suddenly she’s there—your futile … Continue reading The Midnight Hour. A poem.
He who hesitates is lost … Continue reading Seesaw. A short poem.
All your hallowed dreams are burned and charred, or maybe lightly fricasseed; cast aside like the hopeful rope to the refugee always seems to be. (Like vegetables in the pan, never really what you want, but always what you need.) … Continue reading Vegetables. A poem.
The rose-colored glasses slipped away and I saw you as you really are, crowned in wishful thinking and spoilt disparity of thought, overwrought, less than I expected and more than I assumed. I guess I didn’t know what I wanted, … Continue reading Rose-Colored Glasses. A poem.
There’s a hush across the savannah Blinking eyes raised to the dawn As I find my balance for the day My first steps are always awkward Morning coffee jumpstarts my brain Some cereal, milk and platitudes Pick up my guitar … Continue reading Just Another Day. A poem.
I thought that you would let me be But here you come, rapaciously Slicing me up from inside out Filling my head with irksome doubt Your inky fingers in my dreams Painting landscapes and charcoal scenes A bottomless parade of … Continue reading My Depression. A poem.
The divide that’s grown between has widened over time— the subtle, well-toiled furrow, now a rift, of deep decline. When did this passionate divide become more like a gulf? And when did our discussions become a chore, less worthy of? … Continue reading The Divide. A poem.
Not beaten or blighted, wracked with loss or pain, I stand before you in judgement, my purpose, as yet, undecided. You have my submission, having bowed to your requests, but not for reasons you suspect, or to prevent ongoing friction. … Continue reading Submission. A poem.
The meat is the thing A burger existence That never led to much I have tasted gristle And found it wanting Perhaps this time I will find the iron That will make the man And change the way I feel … Continue reading Wagyu heuristics. A poem.
Sometimes, I get lost in your whimsy and my elation at the thought of you leaves every lowbrow, thoughtless convolution, standing at the wayside, thumbing for a ride. I choose to leave them all behind, because I’ve found a better … Continue reading Whimsy. A poem.
I’ve been lost many times before Each time I wandered out your door Full of ample needs and wants, for sure Unaware of the trials I had, in store I was lost sometime, just like before Last time I thought … Continue reading Lost Before Last. A poem.
I trusted you to pay the bills, until I received those pointed calls; found them hidden, of course, in out of the way places, away from prying eyes and your surreptitious faces. I listened to the constant stream Of lies … Continue reading Trust-less Daze (Gambling Daze, part 4). A poem.
She liked responsibility— it gave her credibility, a way to cover erstwhile tracks, unpaid bills and missing goods; her lies falling on naive ears, infallible fallibility. The pawnshop, her best friend (other than the pokies, that is), until she learned … Continue reading Truth-less Daze (Gambling Daze, part 3). A poem.
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