Tag Archives: Poetry

Shifting Light

the late night clouds
are making faces at me.
I retort
with clouds of my own.

billowing smoke
rising upward
from an open mouth
that is sure
to join them

the stars attempt
to make me smile
yet they
will leave me, too.

the sunrise
will pick up
their task
give up
and burn
my skin.

isn’t it a shame?

with so much
beautiful scenery
all I can do
is stare
at my feet.

at least
the grass
is green
on this side.


A Smoker’s Torment

how I long
to quit you

dry mouths and
stained teeth

whisper to
their habit:

make my clothes
stink of shame

make my skin
sag and wrinkle

make me stop
everything for you

can’t tell me
what you do for me

take a look
and ponder the choice

looks so harmless
and so inviting

spark the flame
and give in

seems to have
won this time

Born Too Late

What can you do
When you’re born
Too late?

What can you do
When you’ve missed
The ones with something to say?

I take long walks
Down semi-crowded

I can hear
The thumping



Devoid of emotion

Masturbatory limericks
Clouding my head
Making it pound

It eminates
From cars passing
All the same

With a sigh
I drop my chin

What do you do
When you’re born
Too late?

All the beautiful women
Have nothing to say
They just want to
Dance and shake

But the dance has
Lost its art
Its elegance is gone

All that stands now
Is foreplay



Nothing to do
When you’re born
Too late.

When love is an illusion
Wrapped in sweat
And stinking of booze

The dance floor fills
As the alcohol spills
And I am pushed

Pushed into the corner

From here

From here I watch

From here I watch the people

All the men
Who lean across the tables
On their elbows

They fein interest

They’re not listening
It’s a game
They’re not listening
They’re nodding their heads

But they’re not listening

They give all
The right responses
Pre-rehearsed and practiced

But they’re not listening

They can only envision bare flesh
Naked pleasure followed
By adandonment

Yet I am still listening

I know everything
And have nothing

Nothing to do
When you’re born
Too late.

Nothing to do
But sit and wait
For a time to shine

In a room with dim lights

Haiku Hullabaloo

Love is elusive
The definition is lost
We give it away

Motionless blue sky
Hovering above our heads
It’s going to fall

Don’t keep looking down
Sooner than later you crash
Keep your gaze ahead

Don’t let on too much
You are full of misery
Remember it’s yours

Questions choke the air
Truth is such a rarity
Answers have no place

Puzzled heads look up
To see all the falling stars
We have no idea

Burning Doors

I’ve come to see that living this life
Comes complete with a revolving door
For folks to come and go as they please.
It’s the ones that linger inside for a while
The ones that we don’t want to see go
They gain a sense of power and influence
The longer they stay.

They stand in the lobby
Browsing through pamphlet literature
To see if they’d like anything about
The establishment.

They build up your hopes
That they may become a permanent fixture
Only to turn their curious smile into a disgusted frown
Wad up everything they know about you
Throw it away
And walk out.

The door keeps spinning after they’re long gone
And there’s nothing you can do to stop them.

For you are just the glass:

Frozen in place and broken far too easily.

A Hero’s Chorus

A hero strives for good intent
Yet seems to make things worse.
I am not he, for I am selfish
To believe that it’s bad enough.
Meddling in affairs of those
Who’d sooner have me shot
Than offer any kind of comfort.
I feel so unaccomplished.
Leaving the stubborn to their riches
And vaults full of sins that
They try to lock away;
“Forget you have the key” they say.
Ejected, I wake in a gutter
On a dimly lit street. I’m prodded
To move over and make room,
Then asked to spare some change…
…all in a days work.

High Floods

It starts with wet spotted concrete
As the weather begins to turn
When the cold sinks into your skin
Soon we’ll be up to our ears in water

The sky becomes grey
As it’s tears begin to fall
Like the storm that comes to take us
We find comfort in our turbulence

Reaching to the depths
Of what keeps us going
Wading through the flood
Trying to rise above the tide

Soon we’re swimming
Noses above the surface
Gasping for breath and
Flailing to stay afloat

The struggle begins to seem futile
As the rain shows no sign of relent
At times we think it’d be easier
To just relax and let ourselves sink

Yet we do not yield
Bodies freezing and muscles burning
We press forward with new strength
For we know there is something to fight for

Though we are blind to the fruits of our floods
The storm will pass, the sun will rise again
And anxious, are we, to gaze upon
What the steam has to reveal


As the night sky catches fire

Witness, ablaze, the celestial mountain range

Breathe in the air of the fresh new day

Warmed by the newly woken sun

Wide eyes gaze upon the landscape

Which explodes with majestic colour

The cold musk of the night washes away

Replaced by the fragrance of dawn

Haunting lunar nightmares

Are floating away with the fog

Wrapped in the comfort of renaissance

Icy emotions begin to thaw

The sun rises higher

The hours pass on

Lovely radiance will fade

Nightfall returns when the beauty is gone

No man or beast can ever escape

The burdens each sunset leaves

Heavy hearted eyelids close

Fighting to put away the day

Know that with each new morning

Everything begins anew

But take into each sunrise

The beauty that is brought to you

A Desolate Stroll

A muse, transparent
In any shade or light.
Only painting pictures
Of what’s in his mind.

Underneath his dead skin
Lay porcelain and broken glass.
Soft to the touch, yet beware!
Those who might pull it back.

Strands of hair
Fall across his eyes,
To conceal the weathered grey
That they have turned over time.

Kicking the dust as he walks across a dying land.
What was once a wondrous field is now naught but sand.
Extending an arm to catch a breeze in his hand,
Step after step, heels longing for soft grass.

His bloody soles leaving tracks,
While the sweat rolls down his back.
As skin begins to dry and crack,
He looks to the sky; prays for pitch black.

Remembering the roses that once flourished here
And how beautiful they looked behind her ear.
Yet those pedals have since wilted and died,
Now just a memory to which he clings tight.

Dragging his bare feet, the boy continues on.
Always pressing forward, though everything is gone.
Inside he burns alive but does not let it show,
For he knows the rest of his days will be spent…
…walking alone…

Spilled Red Wine

Here I am in my room again
Pouring another glass of wine:

“Why not, after so many,
Drink it from the bottle?”
Because, of course,
That would be improper!

“But who here would judge you,
Save the photos on the wall?
In fact, even if there were folks here,
Why should you care at all?
So! Sip your wine,
As if you were dignified,
When hiding under the mask
Lies the face of a swine!
No! Swallow that wine!
As if it were your last time
And never think twice
Of those who think unkind!”

Lying on the floor
Clenching the bottle of wine,
My mind tends to wander
With so much free time.
My emotions dulled,
I am numb in all senses.
For the softest of skin
Offers little protection.
So here I cry,
With drunken alliby,
The voices in my head
Be the only friend of mine:

“Is it a surprise
That you feel no better?
Or are you content in your misery
With yourself, the tormentor?
Some drink to forget,
Yet they always recall.
Some drink to have fun,
If they can remember at all.
Others drink to feel happy,
But that fades away in time.
Some confuse it with living,
Though it’s a quicker way to die.
No matter what the cause,
You know your reason why.
The choice is all yours
To accept or deny…”

Into a dream, I fall,
While being wide awake.
Seeing the faces of those
I long to forsake.
The faces of pain and
Portraits of sorrow,
The faces that will be waiting
If there be a tomorrow.
My conscience speaks to me
One final time.
I listen, intently,
Drinking the last of the wine:

“Thinking of them
Will not bring you peace!
Let go of the faces
And put your mind at ease!
You know you cannot change
What has already been written
Just like it won’t save you
To keep yourself hidden.
Is this what you want
Your life to become?
Bloody red stains on your shirt
Sitting next to the gun?
Drink to your health, my friend,
For you do still have that.
Boy, let this be a lesson
As your eyes fade to black…”

%d bloggers like this: