Typing, Hacking, Thinking – Smokin’ Hot

Typing, hacking, thinking – Smokin’ hotTyping your best to empty all thought Pouring your soul into force upon the keysYour woman walks past with a dress above the knees Now you can’t think or type or stammer straightThe hell with with deadlines – this one’s gonna be late You pray to the spirits of procastrination

Forgotten In The Ether

Forgotten in the etherAgainst the stones on the shoreFatigue hitting hard at sunriseBefore the day might restore You cannot outlive a memoryOur fates left to a diminished chanceBound to the sea by luck or forceDrifting silently with suspicious circumstance Dog eared postcards & other totemsWords from home to quench the tideMeandering scribbles in the marginDreading

While We Were Off Sleeping

  While we were off sleeping The rains whipped themselves up in a squall The flowers rose from their dormant stature We were left to discover what never was at all Stripped away our delinquent delusions Forced to find the truth of this precipitation Life is a fragile balance of our dreams Love draws us

The Warmth Of The First Coast Has Returned

The warmth of the First Coast has returned But the ocean haze is beating out the sunshine Sitting on the boardwalk, cold drink in my hand My love reading me the pages of ‘Dandelion Wine’ Summer hasn’t arrived with its full force In the breeze, the air cool, yet warm for March Sideways glances, thinking

Rubbing Their Fingers Over The Stereo Knob

Rubbing their fingers over the stereo knobThe frequencies distorted on the airwavesKings of the new world & thus apocalypticSearching for something more pragmatic to crave These technocrats with no concept of realityTasking – without offering an alternate fateDemanding citizens for homages to be digitalWith no power to control – or else we attenuate Words of

I. Unlocking Our Shackles

Unlocking our shacklesLeading us out, presented as a mannequinThis is our coming out – an introductionForced grins are as useless as foreskins Wishing we were polite in this instructional societyThey have us strutting around as a debutanteThe promise of a honeymoon for lewd servantsBut these demons only allow us to unseemly haunt Image by Markus Spiske from Pixabay 

Quietly, The Most Awkward Person I Know

Quietly, the most awkward person I knowNever sure how to handle a situationConstantly judging myself & my actionsForcing myself deeper into this alienationWatching all the pretty people succeedJust trying to survive, I’m happy I’m still hereNo one wants to discuss the darkness withinBut here I am, attempting to confront my fears

Answers Lurking In The Shadows

Answers lurking in the shadowsThough sometimes never foundWe may have loved & lost& our hearts forced undergroundThere is always some eternal truthTraipsing back from your forgotten youth

Passing quietly in the night

Passing quietly in the night Unbeknownst to a blind eye Distractions turning nervous Youthful visions of a divided sky Perpetual beauty left ravished Smudged but steady on course Redemptions readily available Without the gale’s full force

A Cup Of Coffee Sounds Mighty Nice

A cup of coffee sounds mighty nice Talking away hours in the sun Warmth after this long cold winter Experiences overall count as one Coming times to start all over No need to hesitate or soften your walk Forced feelings fall a little short Take time & measure when you talk A friend is a

She Wore White To The Hanging

She wore white to the hanging Fingers smudged from setting the patriarchy to burn She wore a guilty smile For they would never ever seem to learn By her beauty, they were always distracted But her brains they never could comprehend Once the fire went viral They wished they could call her a friend They

James Baldwin

“All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.” ― James Baldwin