
Above the Great Banyan
A tiny plane soars through the fog
Crate of quarters hits up against
the thin and damaged door
Back and forth
Pilot ignores the obnoxiousness
Only the sound of the engine
No more noise
Falling quarters
Check out my books!

Above the Great Banyan
A tiny plane soars through the fog
Crate of quarters hits up against
the thin and damaged door
Back and forth
Pilot ignores the obnoxiousness
Only the sound of the engine
No more noise
Falling quarters
Check out my books!

From the depths and the
foaming shallow
Cries an underworld of blustering trees
Branches ranting and fuming
Leaves of agony seething
Gawking at the disquieting mud
Peeking at the malignant roots
Residing behind the fierce dwellers
Limbs dangerously curving
Howling and gnawing at silence
Irritations settle among the area
Violence escalates throughout the soil

I see paradise in your
endearing photograph
Can’t stop looking at you
I see utopia on your
alluring lipstick
Can’t stop looking at you
I see the garden of Eden
in your mystical eyes
Can’t stop looking at you
I see milk and honey
from head to toe
Can’t stop looking at you
I see perfection and
and everlasting desire for you
Never will I stop
looking at you
Sweet brown sugar
Habenero pepper on her lips
Invigorating serene eyes
Dashing wild smile
Intellectual stimulating
Culturally educated
Admiring her heritage
Embracing her history
to build a brilliant future
Desiring your seductive mind
Appreciating the center
Itching to just be beside you
Absorbing your presence
Thoughts of you are magical

Gasping for grasping
At the end of the line
Spinning circles
At the end of the rope
Hearing not listening
At the end of the illusion
Unadaptable and difficult
At the end of the mirage
Impenetrable and brick
At the end of the delusion
Sucked in a vicious cycle
At the end of the fabrications
Never ending spiral

He traded a Jose Canseco
baseball card for a catchers mitt
He gave his best friend twenty bucks
to ask Robin Metzger out for him
He took his graduation money
to purchase a car that lasted 8 months
He took an ounce of weed
to college to bribe his teacher
He asked his cell mate
for a pack of cigarettes
He got out of prison four years later
and had no clue where he was

I’m caught between syndromes and prescriptions. I’m slipping in the separation of loneliness and sadness. I have fallen in the hands of broken angels and laughing demons. I can feel the down pouring melancholy fill up the emptiness. I sulk in the fields of depression beside wishes and painted dreams. I’m sitting in the middle of insomnia and awakened tear drops. I watched the clown die on the inside. I stood on the outside of the circus and saw the crowd. I will always be on the outside looking in. I’m surrounded by beliefs and stuck in oppression. I’ve dug a grave in my creativity. I wear sensitivity on my sleeve. I can’t remove if I tried. I want a blanket of love that’s never been made. I seek a yearn that doesn’t exist. You will feel the craving when I’m gone. You will be on the inside finally looking in. The puzzle will be complete. I don’t belong on this earth. I want to lay beside Dylan Thomas and Allen Ginsberg. Read between the lines.



Constantly disoriented
frozen whispers speak to me
A deep hunger
to be understood
An appetite
to be stirred by intimacy
No one cares
No one shows it
Efforts are fallen between
the cracks
No one hears me
No one listens
Distorted perception wakens
This is my canvas
Only a writer, a poet,
will gravitate to my words
To everyone else
I am not here

Dysfunctional dwellers
Constantly in denial
Stagnant in turmoil
Refusing to look outward
A cycle of being inward
Analytically in overdrive
Negative vocabulary
Mangled in a mess
Aching for affection
Seeking flashing attention

No verses can disguise
the barbwire truth
Furious on the inside
Depression settles like dust
A intact plan merges
Ignoring my needs
Methodical and analytical
Reread the chorus
Every day was an opportunity
you threw away to show me
Nothing will prepare you
for what I’m about to do….
Staring into the
desolate snow globe
watching my brittle
tears howl from the chair
Craving novacane for
my anorexic heart
Gravitating to the infection
that is soaking to
my sensitive past
Refusing to retrace
my footsteps of
Chestnut street
Tangled ghosts weave
through out my
strewed mind
Only to see a glimpse
of a debilitating disease
Concentrating on the
disappearing inner tyke
Becoming a nomad within
Placing my hands in my
ragged and faded jeans
trying to capture the light
of playing hopscotch
No matter how many times
I seek the clarity and purity
of my jagged youth
Chestnut Street is just a sign
on a ten foot pole
*Laurel has asked me to use this street name for the Challenge.

The stench will never disappear. I sit here in agony replaying the years in my head. I stare into the pitch black and contemplating the decisions that I have made in my colorful life. I was a jester. I have discarded all the useful cards in the deck only leaving myself with only a few to hold in my tired hands. I steer away from the root. I run away from the tears that refuse to see the sun. I was the fool in believing in the word forever. You took me for granted. I took you for granted. You didn’t have the ability to own up in your own mistakes. You chose to be stagnant. I thought I was the infant in this relationship. I took my vows seriously. My heart is full of mush, layers of sensitivity, and the cream you find in the center of a donut. I wanted more. I craved depth. I took responsibility of my actions. I stumbled away shapeless seeking the truth. I am a lost soul. All I can see is a twinkling light. I will find my way out. If there is one thing I do well it’s being persistent. Nobody will tell me I can’t do something.

Exchanging blows
Trouncing the integrity
Parading with clout
Testifying with a punch
Ruthless and cold
Clobbering with animosity
Losing perspective
Gaining self worth
Sitting on a Island
without a blanket of protection
Circling apathy
with loneliness on a death bed
Persecuting myself
Questioning my beliefs
Constantly defending my being
Slowly giving up to society’s views

She has eyes like the sunrise
and deep scabs like diamonds
She has darkness in her clouds
and she could see the light
She has everlasting dreams
and tenderness in her veins
She has discolored nightmares
and the blood drips from her wounds
She has beauty in her mind
and fears up on a shelf
She has loyalty in a grip
and dedication on her sleeve
She has a glass world of love
and sensitivity woven in her skin
She has purity in her voice
and gentleness in her spirit

Lines of a paradox
Dilemmas constructed
Opposing reconciliation
Barricades in an octagon
Stuck between hazards
and a lake of perplexity
Sitting in contradictions
and diffused complications
Soaked from spatter
In opaque perception
Check out my books!