Category: Poetry

If You’re Not Living, Then You’re Slowly Dying

The, ’it’s just another day’ look in someone’s eyes subconsciously makes me caress my scars, it even irritates me a bit, hell, feral dogs have more drive than some humans I’ve met. Theory and daydreaming are separated by only a thin veil between; focus and a step forward. Social drones, luckless spirits with smiles saying, “I did this, I’ve done that, I’m going to … Read More If You’re Not Living, Then You’re Slowly Dying

Turtles and Humanity

Creatures with shells make me ponder my own vulnerabilities I recall toddler trials, mother’s coddling, griddle-hot Iowa summers, the sticky pavement barefoot dares, whimpering garden hose relief every scar is a waypoint, every wrinkle a latitude and longitude line, I’m still exploring, still mapping emotional upheavals and angry words are the spewing magma that must be released after subconscious quakes, tremors sometimes linger for … Read More Turtles and Humanity

No More Chicken Curry

“Let’s try that Indian restaurant,” I said, you made a funny face simultaneously upturning a corner of your mouth and squinting an eye, you gasped after the first bite, I asked the waiter for ice, placed it between my lips and cooled yours, as you sighed, “No more chicken curry.

The Veneer Of My Soul Pulses

  There is a melodious tapping as I close my eyes, like a boat oar loose in its rigger. Undulating jade waves lazily lull me as I touch the veil of a dream, rhythmic breaths transport me; I am adrift.   Distant car horns are seagulls scent of exotic salt air fills my lungs I sense a tangerine glow through my eyelids   perhaps … Read More The Veneer Of My Soul Pulses

Whatever Will Be, Will Be

You lie far away where wagon wheels and babies once squealed and after the bustle, tall grass grew, swaying in breeze echoing the peace you now know.   I will journey there where those hissing grasses now hush the chaos where green rolling hills yet whisper secrets where I imagine humble Angels prostrate and praying.   Perhaps, autumn bending to winter will be the … Read More Whatever Will Be, Will Be

No Regrets

There are circumstances and there are best laid plans, there are needs and there are desires.   My soul has interpreted the runes of life though I may not have consciously perceived; all battles, stumbles and falls, all misjudged calls though such brought me here   to the sanctuary of us, to zen words whispered, to adoring tears, to your sacred touch that stirs … Read More No Regrets

Mother’s Potholders

Dandelion and tangerine blooms on a quilted field of neon green, threadbare edges were testament to countless labors of love singed here and there the only moisture those flowers saw, was her sweat and tears.

Gestalt-psychology Versus Existentialism: the heart’s quest

I beheld you gleaming in tangerine tendrils of sunset, an ivory altar long obscured within drumming canyons and I made my way.   Pleasantries were the birds singing at dawn, when I reached you, dithering notes slinking cross your form and through your raven hair whispered, “come, you doting fool, indulge and worship   when I arrived, I dropped my reason and the trail … Read More Gestalt-psychology Versus Existentialism: the heart’s quest

The Veneer Of My Soul Pulses

There is a melodious tapping as I close my eyes, like a boat oar loose in its rigger.   Undulating jade waves lazily lull me as I touch the veil of a dream, rhythmic breaths transport me; I am adrift.   Distant car horns are seagulls scent of exotic salt air fills my lungs I sense a tangerine glow through my eyelids   perhaps … Read More The Veneer Of My Soul Pulses

You Will Reckon My Spirit’s Song

I will be there in the paisley dust patterns riding morning sunbeams, in the worshiping of words, in the tabernacle of fond memories, in holy moments baptized with tears   I will always be there between wanting sighs, amidst white noise of life glaring in your thoughts, caressing your hair with whispering breeze   in the chlorophyll green of spring, sweating with summer’s frolic, … Read More You Will Reckon My Spirit’s Song

Sometimes We Just Sigh

Fingers brushing, feather light with an occasional shudder from pure Zen breaths to moist nape is a small reward even a respite sideways glances with near teared eyes are pleasure poses heart to heart, skin to skin and sometimes we just sigh.

Beyond the Darkest Nightmare

“There’s imagined monsters invented in backyard tents, then there’s fiends walking on two feet wearing smiles, nice as can be, getting hints from the devil himself.” We had our stories and monsters as kids, sitting mesmerized in tents with flashlights under chin trying to outdo each other with tall tales. Seems like silliness now, but times change and minds can rot like a bunch … Read More Beyond the Darkest Nightmare