Thursday, March 07, 2013


Nothing’s as it seems.
It seems
my perceptions
Cannot fathom the direction
In which I am truly going

Instead they keep me slowing
To languish over milkish spills
And swallow oblong pinkish pills
Which keep the horrish voices still
But cannot give my life the thrill

That it was made for
Before the Great War
Delivered the death blow
But victory comes slow
When you’re king of eternity
Eyes open when it’s time to see

Can’t rush the awakening
Some boots will be quakening
But others will be kneeling
Or dancing on the ceiling
Bodies reeling
From the blows of love
Sent from above

Like a mighty thunder
You best get under
The sacred umbrella
And like Cinderella
Let the magic transform you
The clothes that are worn through
And torn by the wicked witch

Receive much more than a stitch
When the black night falls from the sky.
Now learn the mystery
Passed down through history:
To live we all must die.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013


Time to clear the air, take some spare
Time to evaluate the ways we hesitate
And let opportunities pass
To follow the mass
Of people instead of trusting
Our instincts and busting
Out of the mold, risking the cold
Shoulders of others, our sisters and brothers
Who prefer to swallow
The party line and follow
The herd to the slaughter
Political fodder
For the power-elite
Oops, press delete
Rather be spared the treat
of a boarding of water
my resolve likely totter
and my faith in the system
flushed down the cistern, this term
will outlast my will as an outcast,
drinking an empty glass
that’s full of some more crass
statements that alienate
the people of this great



Squeezing, cramped,
Lowered gazes
Nothing phases
Me anymore
Life’s a chore
And infinity jests
As it flexes
Its mighty arm
Like a charm
My gaze is steadied
And my heart readied
To battle demons
Red, blue and green ones
Seen some in purple too
An explanation
Morse code destination
Now parked at the station
Meanwhile the nation
Watches from satellite
As from the train I alight.


Stain the pages with talk of the ages
Religious convictions that keep causing frictions.
Verbal abuse, you’ve been so profuse
I’ve suffered an overdose of diction.
Ironically speaking, it is quite intriguing
How words speak of shutting up words.
Like fire on fire, it often inspires
a raging inferno at first.
Then, once subsided, each world has collided
and finally runs out of thirst.


Time to cut loose
Still have that noose
Around my neck
Life is a wreck
Since I’m constrained here
Through some pained tears
Want to fly but
Stuck with dry gut
No juices flowing
Winds, they’re not blowing
My direction
From within,
But through the din
A light is shining
Dimly my King
Comes to view
After a few
Minutes of waiting
Heart’s hesitating
What’s the matter, son?
Can’t help come undone?
That’s my problem
Poets, I rob them
Tryin’ to get high
But only you can fly
You said you’d teach me
it’s so hard to reach me
So we’ll take a rain check
I’ll be at the train deck-
You could say the station-
Waiting for my destination


Relinquish this life would I readily
For the promise of love that grows steadily
In place of the state of the world as we know it
Where decay robs all things, including this poet
For never to age nor perish we long
As if for the chords of a faraway song
That once we had sung but long since forgotten
Now dismayed and disdained,
blood-stained and rotten
We labor along, hastening that day
When, in a flash, the chorus will play
And there, be restored to the glory once held
Behind fateful journeys that promises spelled

To return to our places of glorious splendor
Seated on thrones with touches so tender
That hearts will be melted in pools of communion
Not Midas, but better, more precious than bullion