Here’s an excerpt from my poetry collection, A Thousand Bullets Gone Astray: all the paths i could travel All the paths I could travel are pointing me in 360 directions Which path I choose is…
Posts Taggedpoetry
Can we breathe
Already clustered full, my morrowed eyes looked beyond her vintage lips. Can we breathe, once again, marked and boundless, a broken wing, crushed by ignorance. I could have wandered on, lived my life asleep like…
Who is you? – 1st Draft
My friend Julian Stodd has inspired me do what he calls working out loud, which is, in effect, sharing your works in progress. I thought I’d do the same with some of the writing stuff…
sunday afternoon
black coffee pounding def beats through my veins a jazz rift drifts like dead flies against the newscaster’s sand blasted voice scratching head lines across my brain. senior prison officers pimping passes for pussy, didn’t…
two live wires
It isn’t nice to be naked. Two live wires, hot, exposed, to dangerous to touch together under the night sky. Dark, unyielding, no moon to light the way toward salvation and bliss. A kiss delivered…
in search of peace
III. in search of peace I searched for peace but could not find her on the troubled city streets I climbed a mountain seeking peace in the clouds, but saw only gun-smoke rising from heated…
i guess i chose wisely
You Should Be A Poet You craft words well, in creative and unexpected ways. And you have a great talent for evoking beautiful imagery… Or describing the most intense heartbreak ever. You’re already naturally a…
cold coffee
she sits at the back of Starbucks and stares at the door, poised in anticipation of her prey she does not blink she does not drink her coffee goes cold she could be an exhibit…
‘just do it’
Before there was Nike, there was Dante: ‘Now you must needs,’ my teacher said, ‘shake off your wonted indolence. No fame is won beneath the quilt or sunk in feather cushions.’ ‘Whoever, fameless, wastes his…
prophet man
please mr prophet man tell me what is true I hear some say religion is good for you but i’m not sure when in god’s name they tell me bombs and bullets are the cure
happy new year
“What we call the beginning is often the end And to make and end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” (T.S. Eliot, The Gidding, V)
stand together
The soldiers tossed the chicken Bones, they didn’t like his politics. Strung him up on a cross and Gambled for his ragged clothes. Cancel the Second Coming, The church has decreed, no Heroic figure can…
