Sunday, August 21, 2011

Make-up

Tacky tar of victim blending in
the stark pitch blackness
of void dabbed upon the skin
covering up the broken askew
haphazardly within. 

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Anonymous

Finalized and published on my Facebook page: Anonymous

Ever So Slowly Sinking

Slowly dying. Not intentionally.
Nor unintentionally. Living

to die. Dying to live. Hidden
unmasked. Sinking into void.

Puzzled pieces broken
apart. Silence echoes

in the abyss. Screaming
quietly. Confessing to no one. In words.

In rhyme. Blatantly out loud within 
my mind. Telling the truth

with invisible lies. In fantasy. 
In reality. I commingle and romance.

Wishing For Pennies

silence in hidden sins never spilled
as pennies into a wishing well;
like smashing a head in— to a wall
of living as must thrust upon a soul;
in every breath of biting wind, dreams
of sound readily abound; caught within
a sticky web, the throat constricts 
around the unsaid; sunk in unwell
without pennies to lend; why
doesn’t alive seem to matter?

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Rewind

past tapes replay inside
my head; each whines
and grinds as I lie in
bed; TV and sleep, my only
reprieve; and I am unable
to still;
still, you’d call me silly
or a ninny, if you
truly knew how grueling
this cyclic whine
is; if only I were not askew;
if how I am were untrue;
if only a rewind was ever new.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Intellectually Existing

intelligence is in each anchor that holds
each foot firmly to a cold stone wall
as if glued permanently, and in each toe
clenched tightly to the edge, and in each heel
entrenched in granite, immobilizing,
where rock is flesh is not distinct

intelligence is in each insight that sears
into the darkness and the void
from which light and creativity
and everything is born out
of each step taken whether with hope,
with faith, with fear, or without

intelligence is in each dream wooing
each possibility of what might spring to real
as anew, as change, as opportunity,
as loving, as respite, and in the simultaneous
inevitable knowing never
what has not yet come to be

intelligence is in each witness that bears
what hindsight undeniably divulges
as irrevocable past actuality, and in living plainly
in reality, and in each moment, and in now
as if trapped in avoid, as if nailed to air, as if
rooted in nowhere, as a chimera always is

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Taught

Hope is a rope
a noose upon a neck
deftly strangling.

Hopeless is loss
a snap within a neck
lonesome dangling.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Skin Deep

Steel in a sharp edge peels
back each layer of skin — slices
of truth — to reveal moist
options, flimsy perception. Thinking,

the onion stink can make you cry,
try again and again, expect
that in the end that truth will lie
exposed. Yet, you know nothing.

Wallowing, lingering in why,
entrenched in the wet
of confusion. Sheer
desiccated recourse pauses

in now; leftover shavings
shriveled up in why not — just spit!
Flesh out and enable; hydrate
the unspoken possibilities

persisting, warming the womb
of relativity. You stand
without, stilled, whim
wily, stripped stark, in dark,

in a graveyard, seemingly
left out in life; always forever
with actual choices, whenever
uttered, if ever given a voice.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Growing Older

Poetry slices through me
Molts fight and insight
Captures a moment — a truth
And I cling to it. I breathe
Its air so as to feel
My substance
As though through its beauty I am
More real. Carved into rock

With each day I jell
Into crystal and no matter where
I write light filters through me
As though entombed in mirrors shining
The same reflection. Words
Rebound and welter and I shun
The din. Emerging
Hope shatters me

Into shards piercing
The heart of my fog morphing
Me into me and relief
And blessings are in sight. Wishes
As innocence and possibility flourish
And blunder forever wanting
To be what might
And so I write.

Forsaken

Finalized on my facebook page: Forsaken

Framed

Finalized on Facebook as Framed

Irony Of Public

as boredom reigns
as sleep silences

as dreams drench
in despair

let me out
free me

categorize me
write me off

let me walk unnoticed
as unnamed

as I know pain
is not a public place