Flower in the shade

Today is the day when you fall back in
And the atmosphere calls us home;
Your dreams are so grand and homely
But release your head from the stars
You’re lost in the gravity of
Black-holes, the guilty life-suckers,
The dark moons that command the sea.
So run now from their push and call,
And seek a skyward destiny;
The world is full of song and dance
A lifeless home to circumstance
And we can cut down all the trees
In a swing of the axe, but you’d
Still be a flower in the shade.


Young men are driven by desire
Seeking not justice, but self-
Fulfillment, and Satisfaction.
In walks an exceptionally rich 
Young man, master of an estate
He was delivered by-will,
A mere twenty years of age,
Dreams of money, and a girl.
The lost woman of his dreams
A zombie by any other name,
Wanders into his land, slowly, and
Appears before him outside his home.
Silence corrodes the somber scene
Minutes pass in the fog
A soft mist envelops the ground.
Lifeless stares from zombie and human
A mixed emotional moment for one
A late-night snack for another
Man pleads with zombie for reconciliation,
His heart torn and unsure;
Zombie approaches slowly, 
Stepping on a wallet, a mirror.
A breaking of glass startles the
Native human, owner of the lot,
He shoos the young flesh-eater
As she tears his face off and 
Swallows his brains in a gulp
In his final thoughts he’s satisfied,
The house left to deteriorate alone.
Zombie dream-girl discriminates not by
Sex, orientation, economic distinction
Everything’s equally tolerated and despised in zombie-mind,
Money, war, materials
Only the primal call of food, sustenance matters;
We should all be zombies,
Lifeless flesh-shells, lacking reason.
If we aren’t already by the time I read this.

Planets of Blue

When I’m sad at night,
When I’m not feeling alright,
          Lights change great green to
Blue, and
Yellow sunbeams collapse on me
          And then this life becomes so much
Think think-around think-through
Think think thinking of you
Sometimes, all right.
          Sometimes, all night.
          (That alternate universe)
Better times coming downtown
Back to the start, first round
Lights faces shining singing
Lingering in my mind like the greasy
After-taste of
          Food, yuck
Fruit on the tree of Eden, midnight
          Godly sorrow
The kind
          Hercules would know
Late-time speeding seconds.
          Stops short of reality
Galaxy sighting out the window
At night there’s planets full of blue
And you.


They say every person needs a partner

Every life needs another;

To seek, embrace, complete it.

But I don’t buy into that gypsy philosophy,

Practiced by fools and wayward spirits.

Heart’s weren’t made in a lock-and-key fashion,

Never have I noticed my heart missing

A second half, atrium and ventricle absent.

Love has never soothed my soul’s worries,

Nor has it fixed anything troubling going on.

It’s only brought more worries, more trouble

And more anguish and foolishness.

Synchronicity is overrated because love,

Love makes no sense…

But maybe it doesn’t have to.




Sleep is difficult when the lights are on

And the sun shows its face in the window.

But it’s 5am and the birds chirp loudly

When they first awake to call to their kin.

I’ve been up all night writing a draft

Of a note of an essay to someone,

Who won’t ever see it, not if I have a say.

I can’t rest when my mind reels back

From the roller-coaster of writing again

To an unknown soldier person carefully;

It starts like all notes do, with one word

Carefully, meticulously chosen: “Dear.”


highway superstar


Time tends to quicken when you least expect it to,
Like a car rushing on the highway, agile yet interruptive,
When an SUV crosses into your lane and you yell expletives
Harsh words your parents told you never to say,
But that was a long time ago, before you learned how to drive
Amidst the horns and muffled engines you feel strangely
Attracted to this speedy SUV and its uniqueness.
You kick the sedan into ignition and attempt to catch up,
Hoping to match the damn SUV’s path at the speed of light,
And the compact steel of the sedan sheds away gradually
From the trunk, the wind-shield wipers, the glass windows
With the more weight you lay on the gas pedal,
And if the whole sedan deteriorates and collapses
Under the pressure of gravity you’d be blissfully clueless.
In that wonderful moment time is rapidly short, and lags.
You cannot catch the uncatchable when
It’s hurling naturally at light speed and you’re
Struggling to reach 85 on the speedometer.
It’s difficult finding a silvery SUV during rush hour
Especially when it seems everyday is a constant hour of rushing
And traveling in fifty directions for the same silvery SUV
You saw yesterday, the day before, a week ago, last month,
That’s probably cut off many other sedans along its path
As it was passing you by happenstance on its way to work
Or to meet a special someone who never knew you existed.

Music Class

best memories of music class

Three times over I say I’ll sing you a song,

I’ll sing you a great song, you know, a big,

Beautiful fantastical long one

Like when we used to play with the recorders in music class

And the keyboards in the sixth grade

And I would sing, sing, sing along to your tunes and

Love the songs we made,

Love the music we made,

Our duo unstoppable invincible.

I want to sing a new song with you, like in music class,

But this time I want to play the keyboard, the recorder, the flute,

And you can sing, because I don’t think I’ve ever, ever heard

You sing before.

You’ve got a green, violet-blue-red-yellow voice for my emotions,

A voice for every season, holiday, and mood.

Please sing me a song, so

We could be in music class again.



coated sparkling golds and silvers

lathered platinum angels and

anticipated arrival but as it

came I turned


conscious of the world but

focused on a moment that’s fleeting nature

confounded me and I must

oust the memory from my mind

before it consumes me.



trees of ivy

stretching skyward into

boundless oblivions

where giants roam and

skyscrapers loom cautiously

in wanton sacrilege to the heavens above them.

dreams of snowflakes

soaring like plastic airplanes catching wind and

plummeting to the ground where we lay.

it’s wintertime

but it feels like summer

and the ivy trees sway also with the wind

that brushes your hair across your face

as you smile and dance with the seas that

shape the world.



I’ll meet you where the sun doesn’t shine,

Where the sky parts for a short moment.

I’ll meet you where the ocean sings melodies,

And the fish dance along to the music.

I’ll meet you where the food is delectable,

But the waitress is ever so rude.

I’ll meet you where the poetry is divine,

And the poets are revered like gods.

I’ll meet you where the seasons never change,

Where we can find harmony and grace.

I’ll meet you where the forests are still green,

And I’ll build us a house among the trees.

I’ll meet you where the lakes are still blue,

Even though the sky is not.

I’ll meet you here, there, and everywhere,

But then we’re stuck with nowhere.