Reaching The End Of The Line

Everybody knows

What a lie you’ve become

Everybody knows

The truth you’ve undone

through the shots in the dark

you’ve ripped a hole in their hearts

through the lies in the days

you’ve started the meter on their beds

Everybody knows

you’ve given your life for theirs

Everybody knows

God is counting hairs

of your head, toying with the lead

in the gun he holds steadfast

of those present and past

you’ve spent so much time spilling on sheets

you’ve missed the girl of your dreams

and everybody knows

you’ve turned your wretched spine to the son

you’ve made the path of darkness your home

so cry your bitter tears, cry till you impregnate the earth

she will be your bitch, yours alone

everybody knows

you’re just a shame

everybody knows

it’s in your name

it’s riding behind you in the fast lane

can’t take a trip, cop a plane

insane, ingrained

I’m so tired of running

I’ll make myself lame

just to end the race


Potent Poets

Fingertips glazed with potent

pictures of the fray

presidential missteps punch

humans out the person

poets ride like the cold winds

striking blows and leaving fast

the mangled guilt leaves a trail

for the universe to see

even the strongest eyes

will tear when stripped of belief

hope is wrong in the minds of some

choice allows something to be done

when the snow comes down

the cries go up

sounds of crashing content

demolish any source of common sense

railway tracks take lovers back

shoulders bearing caskets

tell us we won at last

Beauty, Breaking, and Choosing

Paint me a picture

of what tomorrow has to offer

children rejected at distant borders

young wives lose budding husbands

to filthy coffins

paint me a picture with the blood

of aborted fetus

paint me a picture with the anger

of disbelievers

in the White House

where Trump says any and everything

paint me a picture with their tears

screaming, shouting for their voice to be heard

dear child, he cannot hear you

not us, not today

our world is cast into the fray

nuclear weapons are too easy a choice

but who cares for the average Joe?

how much does his voice cost?

what about his vote?

paint me a picture with the sins of blacks

and law enforcement

intertwined in a death game of the ages

breaking and being broken

Eric Garner was another token

and we all bought the lie with his dead body

how long will it go on

why is it the autistic that rallies you to the call

I’ve got enough of my own problems

my own pitfalls to maneuver

but I paint you this picture

riveting roulette of reckless

humans are so capable of beauty

humans are so capable of breaking

humans are so capable of choosing

what will you do

My Impossible Year

I’ve lost all hope

in humanity

because I’ve lost all hope

in me

I’m weaker than the dust

lost to the winds of the poorest farmer

I’m filthier than the eyes of the thief

always looking over his back

I’m the Katrina

to your poorly constructed soul

And the Trump

to your easily distracted mind

I can’t control myself

and alone, myself can’t control what I feel

I’m bleeding, soul sister

and my hearts too easily peeled

they see the sins, they see the tragedy

each breath I take

draws me closer to finality

and each step forwards

drags me backwards from reality

I’m standing in the rain

but I’m not cleansed

I’m standing in the open

but not worthy of assassination

I’m a drag on all of you

too loud to be ignored

but too useless to be near

I’ve lived yet another

impossible year

To Envy The Butterfly

Free me from the shackles

That’s my only wish tonight

Let the lightning strike these bonds

and let me feel the sunlight

Guilt and misery upending my heart

Desire to cure this wretched brain tears me apart

I wish I didn’t love you

I wish I didn’t see you

then I would’ve never known

I bleed when I’m without

but my life begins to turn around

but my brain needs to cure the throb

so my future gets robbed again and again

I’m swimming in my own creation

and all I can see is the valley floor

the blue sky is no more

the voice of reason is choked beyond relief

it’s just me, baby

me and my broken feet

me and my haunted dreams

poetry is what you see

but the tears stay this side of the screen

I’m jealous of the butterfly

her freedom is my envy

I’m jealous of the thunderstorm

the finality of her thunder

could be within me

every time I hear my name

I die a little inside

the menial joy, the everlasting pain

I wish I didn’t love you

but here I am listening

listening to you again


Unwanted Reasoning

The voice sits beside me

giving not an eye to my humble disgrace

I’ve given my future children

to the soles of my shoes

I’ve mustered every excuse

as to why I couldn’t do

My brain needs more

and I need us

so what if I lose a little memory

then a little too much

I cause my own anxiety

and wince in the pain

then I write to the world

and pray I’ll be strong again

when will the cycle end

abuse of the hands, neglect of the soul

forgoing the beauty of the unknown

for a few seconds of trivial pleasure

my immaturity is shown

and my faith is the child’s cord

cut loose and thrown away

it was my lifeline not too long ago

I need it again

but that voice was lost forever

and now to the sinking sea

I must die

in hopes of becoming better

The Worst Of Me


When it rains

I see the worst of me

The things blazing lights hides

But shadows see

Oily smears on concrete

From sins I was quick to reap

Short term benefits dissolved, now I believe

I’m drowning in a sea of my own impurity

The flood comes over me everyday

Try to see through the dark but I lose my way

Walking the long road certainly into the fray

But I chose this path, now retribution must be paid

I needed someone to save me

Now I’m headed to the grave faithfully

Because I chose the life of slavery

Heed me not, I chose this misery

My Poetry Is



My poetry

is long awaited sunset

on a lover’s winter night

My poetry

is a flashlight on the entrails

of the horror film called Life

My poetry

is a camera

on the heart of Titanic


but tormented


and cursed

My poetry

is an anchor

and a mast

a tsunami

and a covenant


from the conflicted


behind near perfect diction

My poetry

is the other side of the railway tracks

The backside

catching all the jack

Telling my truth

emasculates me

to that of a bee

giving little

but losing all

so you might avoid

where I’ve stumbled

and crawled

My poetry may be autistic

from hands suddenly active

but the lips are rigid

and mind narrow

My poetry may be saddening


or nothing to you at all

but it’s my lifeline




that’s my heart aching

and another poem

that needs your saving




Basically I Like You But I’m Really Bad At Saying Why


when I like them

I become the oddest creature

you would ever witness

elevated well above

my natural habitat

I feel strong suddenly

and I am proud of that

I spill too many words

even my poems feel bare

and I rave inwardly of accomplishments

I’ll probably never reclaim

or I become insanely aggressive

not physically

but mentally

I choose my words more carefully

as to tell as much

through as little as can be

I become reckless

and careless of the journey

for the sake of destination

words meant from friends

become public access

now I am ashamed of the natural

and am left to reside

in a shell of tepid posture

and gradual resignation

I shall never achieve

whispers behind backs

become the bonds to my railway tracks

and every breath is a wheel

that makes death

a little more sadistic


These Breaths I Take


somewhere I’m here

sometime you’re gone

on way or another, I fear

tomorrow’s song

pushing me away

I live to fight another day

poisoned are the breaths I take

on the dark side of the moon my true self lays

see, I’m a menace

but that you’ll never see

because I try to keep everyone

thinking of how good I can be

instead of how lost I am

I do care what you think of me

I say I don’t just to seem tough

but if I were

I’d kill myself

and make all the bad memories

go away