Muttering under my tears…

I don’t mean to stay much longer

(And you know what I mean)

But sorry and SORRY to bash you over the head okay see now here it’s not



The best thing!

To know that I tried so stylistically

To renounce senders and benders and heaven-lenders

But all at once! they left me too

For Your Own Good

They say what I say


Would you go?

With me or out

The house on



Other ways

It is hard to see

Too much of

Love of

The picture that left


Here with

You when

They were suddenly

Bagged and taken

Off the premises

For our own safety


To feel full


And sink

You Cannot

You cannot divest yourself of the art of it all

You cannot

It is the whole purpose you are alive

The love in her voice

The smell of the rose petals on your cheeks

Wind in the air

And a mystical lilt of song from the distances

You traveled

I cannot stop

The crying I do

When I think of you, love

Please, please, remember who we are

And we will never be lost

We will never be lost without each other ever again

I promise

Jumping Jacks

Give me the paycheck give me the pocketbook

Honey bun honey bun

Let me marry you to the tree

So you can buy it some friends

Let me pay my own bills with your money it’s not

Confusing I’m not jumping the gun we’ve

Just got

A lot of bills to settle

Way of late makes me think there might be too many twists/turns at the roundabout

Too many ritzy beamers at the parking garage

Well Bezos

Well Mr. Burger Flipper

You are so heroic

You are so the same

You are so different

Inside we are all made of meat

So if cannibalism hits

I’d put my lot in with the burger flipper

Then there are pots of hot shit they say I don’t see anything

But I guess I’m not alone there are that many hypocrits

I don’t hold on to friends I meet online and certainly

We only discuss art, not change

But I wonder

How one can be devoid of the other…?

Not a poem but some critique

So, when I write abstract poetry, I get a lot of backlash for it not being topical or structured enough.

You know what?


I can write whatever I want

And think it’s beautiful, too

And if you think my words are beautiful and still critique?

Then you are a hypocrite

And nothing less

So just think on the criticism

Stick to those textbooks

But try opening up your mind once in a while


Try seeing English as a game instead of a prison

Contortion of the silence

to disregard

makes placebo worries fallacy minor times

then staccato will wreck me / us all

and YOU, friend

What have you say in this part of the Earth?

What doing here, being here, breathing here

Berating your daughter for wearing blue ribbon

Not holding the mug long enough

Sawing the log in thirds

I could rattle off these unique visualizations

But the point is you do or don’t belong here

So go ahead and choose which it is?

Nary an experiment, wanderer

Tell me tall tales

Ideas to Conjoin

This nuance, this tact

This lack of heft from his right shoulder

He held me on the way back

He held me on the way

I am stymied so often in my response that no other than publication itself

Could find me happier

I am wanton, it is said of us all, but to liken to criminals

No! no… that won’t do

So it is ideation that again culls our yearning for the morsels of oddity so cherished

By our brethren

And I do mean our friends

Those of ourselves who see ourselves in our own way

And not in a mirror timefuck that would have you disheveled of mind

At the thought of looking at yourself wayside

I am in doubt at this conjoining of ideas

But if it works, work it

And if it doesn’t

Send it to your brethren

Unduly do I cause confusion

In the sack at night at nana’s bed time

There cradled her apples swell

There cradled well, in pleasure and night

That something wert off but none the less the lamp

Struck him in the corner of his eye as bright

And suspiciously so

That any other mechanism other than light

And the light of light

Could transcode his thoughts

Well he had had enough for the day

To be sure