I’m Out Here Trying My Best

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I’m out here trying my best to contribute
But in the end, you drank me dry
Never thought this life would be a crapshoot
I said forever. It wasn’t meant to be a lie

Each day I feel your eyes searching for flaws
Things aren’t right, this is no way to live
Even with love, there’s a line we must draw
For now I’ve got nothing left to give

The World Can Only Hold So Many Poets

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The world can only hold so many poets
Woefully claiming Bukowski as their inspiration
Worshiping a habitual womanizer & drunk
Answering questions with little to no imagination

I’m doing my best to fill up the lines & empty spaces
With these ink splotches spreading upon the page
Distinct notions of what I believe to be right
But I’m only displaying the curmudgeon side of my age

Shove off from those heroes & clip art stick figures
We need fresh voices with an authentic feel
No more grave-robbing stale words & artifacts
We need to release the future & embrace what’s real

Thought It To Be An Easy Read

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Thought it to be an easy read
Yet the words were hard to digest
Meaning dancing slowly in my mind
Subtly creeping past the singular rest

Retracing lines to navigate ritual
Where do we reform elegant words
Removed from obvious transparency
Heaped among the notorious & absurd

But we can still be returned to normal
Reassembled without any scars of the war
Truth absolved of the fictions we wrote
Back to the pages I quietly implore

Lighting The Wicks On A Rainy Day

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Lighting the wicks on a rainy day
Blowing the dust off the vinyl
Finding comfort in the subtle tones
& knowing these days aren’t final

Seeing those palm lined drives
Standing out in the mist
Reassuring my lonely soul
& remembering lips I wish were kissed

Her love hidden in the liner notes
Buzz words & other incantations
Knowing she’s my answer
& becoming my perfect temptation

Junky Little Notes

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Junky little notes
Throwaway lines on the postmodern stage
Cultural fragmentation in empty streets
Truth whittled away on an evaporating page


The disillusionment of an appropriated life
While the world’s on fire; downright ablaze
The American Dream sold off to the lowest bidder
Feeling dissociative in these recent raucous days


Our dishonest & unaccountable government
Are trying to sell you their uninspired vision
Trying to sway your vote by gripping your throat
But their cockamamy pleas will be met with only derision

I’m Tired Of All The Mouthpieces & Talking Heads

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I’m tired of all the mouthpieces & talking heads
I don’t trust anything on the network news
Congress & corporations are intertwined
Aimed at denying our dreams if they could choose
But I’m not going to buy into their systems
I’m not going to line up for them to call me by name
We have to figure out a better way
Or we’ll all be taken under by institutionalized shame
I don’t want to live in a world propelled by evil
I believe this hateful environment is only getting hotter
Can we not treat our neighbors as equals
What kind of world are we leaving for our daughters?

Unfettered and Unlined

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Unfettered and unlined
Drinking coffee deep into the night
Unfiltered; seeing life as it truly is
Feeling raw, returning to my machine to write

I’m pulling the strings, creating fictional tales
A life breathing under these mechanical keys
Slowly coming to the surface
A birth in words, triumph in moment’s like these

The Government Wants To Lock Me Up

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The government wants to lock me up
For I don’t fit into their diabolic plan
Turning society into robotic morons
I just can’t continue to work for The Man

Trying to sell us artificial stimulants
Fickle airwaves that their bully pulpit bought
Falsified histories & professional victims
The system wipes us away without any thought

Pharmaceutical conglomerates tell us
Conscience is a personality disorder we can’t shake
Turning our daughters into Stepford Wives
Stealing our minds – hoping we’ll never wake

Corporations in league with the dolt on the throne
Continuously embarrassing the whole of humankind
Whose agenda has a limited number of characters
How the hell is this the best choice we could find

But I won’t succumb to any of their devices
I’ll take my liberty and the happiness I’ve pursued
Rejecting the crooks & ignoring their feigned power
Won’t find me in Nurse Rachet’s line; docile & queued

I can’t live a life that’s so blatantly false & empty
My soul is no longer pristine, but I’m an honest guy
I’m taking to the wilderness; leaving the State behind
I’m trading their promises for a more natural high

Sitting In Front Of The Vanity

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Sitting in front of the vanity
Deciphering all your beauty marks
You see lines, wrinkles & blemishes
I see my very own Domestic Monarch


You’ll never see what my soul knows
But, I know how lucky I am to have this view
I’ll spend my days discovering new ways to cherish
I’m grateful you allow me to share eternity with you

Those Matchbox Fantasies

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Those matchbox fantasies
Gunmetal grey panties with soft pink polka dots
She placed a stiletto on her wooden leg
Character assassination plots go all for naught
Unassuming by way of distraction
She’s hiding a switchblade under that dress
She’s dangerous down to her core
A beautiful woman – you don’t want to mess
Beware of their corrosive accolades
There’s no exoneration in the line of fire
She’s insolent about your theoretical love
In the end, she’s killed you with her underwire