We were a fireball of light.
A crackling whisper of wishes,
dancing among the stars,
floating freely through infinity,
with the promise of forever.
Yet, forever wasn't infinite
and we were torn apart.
A cosmic storm pulled me
from you and I still carry
the mark of your departure,
branded in the center of my chest.
We are now flames flickering,
sending light into the darkness
while whispering wishes of oneness
to the cosmos hoping they hear us.
My flame, when we meet again,
we will quiver, like candle wicks
freshly lit, rejoicing in the reunion
of two lovers lost, and then found.
We will reignite our ancient passions,
and reclaim our stolen forever.
Old Poetics
February 4, 2016
August 3, 2015
Afterlife Afterhour
When you became a ghost,
I became the night.
Stars inviting you home,
I left on all of the lights.
October 22, 2014
Hey there, Jack!
“Hey there, Jack!
Can you cut me some slack?
Listen, the apothecary's outta town
and I got this stuck on stupid frown.
I need some of your magic beans
and some of that bubbly kerosene.”
So, Jack pulled out a brown bag
made of cloth and old stitched rags.
He looked to the left and to the right,
then shoved it at the man who sang in delight,
“Thanks, man! Listen, I owe you one!”
“No, no, no,” Jack said, “have some fun.”
Jack climbed his stalk. The deed was done.
“Won’t know what hit him. Poor, old bum.”
Can you cut me some slack?
Listen, the apothecary's outta town
and I got this stuck on stupid frown.
I need some of your magic beans
and some of that bubbly kerosene.”
So, Jack pulled out a brown bag
made of cloth and old stitched rags.
He looked to the left and to the right,
then shoved it at the man who sang in delight,
“Thanks, man! Listen, I owe you one!”
“No, no, no,” Jack said, “have some fun.”
Jack climbed his stalk. The deed was done.
“Won’t know what hit him. Poor, old bum.”
October 13, 2014
The Restless Universe
I’m restless. Things are
calling
me
away.
This
space,
This
time,
I’m not of it.
I’m
not from it.
So
what is it? Can someone tell me please?
It
hurts when I crash into my body—
this cramped shell confines all of the universe
into
one beating heart. A meteor on fire,
it
charges like a lithium battery.
My eyes blink opening nebulas. Exploding into black
holes.
My mind is a planet. Floating silently into infinity.
I am stardust.
A string of theories sewn
together into a web
of existential breath and light.
I'm restless, things are
calling me away...
it seems that my
hair is being pulled by the stars again.
Inspired by Anaïs Nin, Fire: From "A Journal of Love" The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1937
September 1, 2014
Sonny's Song: A Villanelle
Big money still ain’t got enough money
So they con, steal and rob us blind.
People are dying and they think it’s funny
In corporate buildings it’s always sunny
The Big Whigs plan trips to relax and unwind
Big money still ain’t got enough money
So they fatten their pockets with milk and honey.
Outside, Sonny shakes his can hoping for strangers to be kind.
He sings, "People are dying and they think it’s funny.”
“We’re starving, cold indentured slaves, their poor ol’ dummies,”
“Nothing’s free, so food, water and shelter we gotta find.”
“Big Money still ain’t got enough money.”
“We’re sick saps with noses runny,”
“So we go to the hospital, but service is declined.”
“People are dying and they think it’s funny.”
“They say, we can’t treat you, so sorry, Sonny.”
“Then they say, sorry we’re just doing what the law’s assigned.”
“Big money still ain’t got enough money.”
“People are dying and they think it’s funny.”
August 17, 2014
Reflection
Gazing into your eyes,
my bright white skin
lights up the dark spaces.
A star in the night.
The sun at dawn.
I am not greater,
I am not less.
I am merely
a reflection of you.
my bright white skin
lights up the dark spaces.
A star in the night.
The sun at dawn.
I am not greater,
I am not less.
I am merely
a reflection of you.
July 21, 2014
April 4, 2014
Rush Hour Variety Show
Have you ever hugged your teddy bear so tight,
his marbled eyes bulged?
I have.
his marbled eyes bulged?
I have.
Have you ever sobbed so heavily,
you couldn't tell snot from tear?
Well, I have too.
Have you ever wished to be thinner, thicker or just plain different altogether?
Hell, I know I have wished that too!
Haven't we all?!
So, heres a salute to:
my bald headed, pink-wearin', cancer bashin' soldiers...
A nickel flip in the cup, to the jazzy gent soothin' Chi-town streets with his sax.
Big, wet 'n' sloppy puppy kisses welcoming us home.
Grannie dancin' herself outta those high heeled shoes at the wedding.
(Why did she wear 'em anyways?)
The star-gazers.
The protesters.
Tax collectors,
con-men and street artists.
Hustlers.
Hippies.
The homeless and never home,
Wall-street suit guy.
The BBW's, dainty petites and average Joes.
Grill masters.
Vegans.
Meat-heads, models, gym rats,
army brats and ministers.
And you too! The introverts and outcasts.
I see you.
I mean, I really see ya.
From your vibrantly drooling grins...
to your denture-filled mouths.
I see you.
Because, most importantly,
I am what I see in you.
Life...of the human variety...
Forever different, but always the same.
Haven't we all?!
my bald headed, pink-wearin', cancer bashin' soldiers...
(Why did she wear 'em anyways?)
Wall-street suit guy.
The BBW's, dainty petites and average Joes.
March 11, 2014
Ebony and Ivory (Dust & Debris)
His smirk hungrily stares.
Ebony skin scorches my solitude,
reducing me to an ivory ash.
Sprinkled atop his flaming flesh,
I gently smolder inside embers
upon his chest. Yet somehow,
I am more whole this way,
even as a million particles—
dancing debris—settling like dust.
November 7, 2013
The Pack
The
night cracked under whips of oppression.
Plotting
with slow digression,
Upon
the lips of deception,
For
fear of sheer rejection.
Sharp
clangs screeched through the thick brush.
A
shadowy figure appears
It
is dazed and in a frenzy.
Worn,
tired, rabid, and alone.
It
falls to the forest floor
Disturbing
the creatures below.
A
white butterfly drifts through the darkness.
Fluttering
towards the frail beast.
She
hovers over its body,
Gently
perching on its chest.
She
hums a song of times past…
The
beast cries out in agony.
It
weeps with an elicit tear;
Recalling
such wondrous tones.
Blinding
white light sheds its black cloak.
A
pile of ebony dust shrouds the grasses.
Two
specs rise up from the ashes,
One
white and the other pure black.
They
are one always: a pack.
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