Thursday, September 20, 2018

slow burn

a matchstick stuck in an eternity
a flame painted on the face of time
dreams with carbon framed reality
strong as bones, brittle as twine
delusions are the flavor of the day
garnished with paranoia and fear
clouds smother the light
everything is clear
clear as the day
i first set my eyes on you
started this slow burn
fire become desire
I'd burn burn burn
again and again

Saturday, August 18, 2018

The Game

The spineless angels
Play cards
On the cosmic table
While the world burns
In their absence
Their coffers
Filled with praise and adoration
Their glasses are always full
But they still can't get drunk
They flip the cards on the table
A game with rules
Passing time to ignore
The fate of fools
An ace there, a queen here
The joker's missing from this deck
In the larger scheme of things
A significant speck 
Who knows what nightmares 
Bubble in the heaping trouble
That brews in the corner 
Of the dark game room
Just lit by the fire
Of a slowly burning moon


a rush of images, sounds, tastes, and touch
a man can only take so much
before he violently shakes his head
like a dog to come back to the now

but the colors of the now are muted
there is no comparison to a dimly lit afternoon
like a Polaroid of a rainbow, frozen in time
something secret, just yours and mine

the whirlpool of thoughts has me in its grip
my heart on a slide and ready to slip
how can a few hours be such a trip
it's a high that keeps on giving

back in the now
my dreams are peppered
with everything you

Friday, July 6, 2018


the words fly from his mouth
like insane butterflies
floating away on warm currents
of whispers that go unheard
he stands on a broken ladder
balanced on a rickety wall
he climbs a rung higher
to be heard by one and all
and the man speaks of truth
and lies and dreams and fears
of anyone who'd lend him
their attention and their ears
but people ignore him
just another madman
throw some food at him
maybe that will shut him up
but the butterflies still fly
invisible and light
they get tangled in the thoughts
of people passing by
another madman is transfixed
by this dance of butterflies
he falls in love on the street
with a girl who's passing by
as she brushes back her hair
all tangled with butterflies

Monday, June 25, 2018


there is slavery in comfort
and comfort in slavery
who the fuck wants to go
and break bricks in this heat

the routine will be the death of me
even if I inject chaos in my days
wrapped in duty, am i really free
will i ever change my ways

who the fuck wants to be saved
by angels or demons or ancient gods
there is no truth, no lie, no promises
only a neverending road

and everyone walks

Friday, June 15, 2018


Machines junk poetry
Scattered in the rain
The wires in your head now
Don't cause any pain 
Your rhyme schemes
Your time dreams
Drenched in old sweat
Recoil in horror at Father Time's breath
Random moments in a bubble
Atmosphere thick with trouble 
Hands of a clock tick tocking away
On the edge of wakefulness
Teeter totter sway
Gathering the words
Throw them in a bag
Stirring couldren of poems
A wicked old hag
And it's me
Always me. 

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

night and other perils

the sky is an open wound
festering with poison fumes 
they rise up in pillars of black
color the clouds in grey plumes

everything once alive
has withered and given up
the angels once proud
are sleeping in the muck

night is the final nail
in the coffin of humanity
exhumed, inhuman
it covers the sun

and in the darkness in the doom
the dreamers dream with eyes open
waiting for the stars
that have given up on us, too.
it's that kind of day, month, year.