The dark side is gravitating
Scrambled thoughts of my reality
Playing with the toys in my closet
A world you could care less
Claiming to know me completely
You know what you want to know
My efforts to shed dead skin get unnoticed
I grin on the inside of these vandalized walls
We share a love that wears many disguises
that you refuse to see
You chose to see only a few layers of me
We display a miserable performance
Consistently staring into my silence
I can’t make you use your tongue
I will never be enough or give enough
You are as broken in pieces as me
You don’t know how to walk away
I dare you to walk away like the rest
The grin expects the unexpected
Can you spell the word depression
Waiting for God to take me away
You will understand me when I’m dead and gone
And give more of yourself to another man
The dark side is gravitating


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I glared into a faded photograph of our founding fathers, where dogma was priceless,the ink used to place the period behind our Declaration of Independence spoke volumes, where freedom wasn’t part of a cliche or a sales pitch, where dreams were bright as the clouds on the Fourth of July, where individuality was embraced but businesses thrived from the word capitalism, when tax was minimal, but as generations progress with a letter from the alphabet, the labels make the period disappear,traditions were once cherished, differences were honored, education was a foundation, face to face communication was imperative, and tears from the moon never fell into the cracks of the sidewalk of Washington Street

I carefully placed the collectible portrait between the pages of one fifty seven and one fifty eight of my history book, nonchalantly I sat on the curbside, glancing at the emptiness, no bumper to bumper traffic, no obscenities lashed out, civilization working behind rectangular screens, nominal movement, and goods can purchased with the click of a button, inch by inch, decade by decade, the zest is thinning, the lawmakers relish in spending income that isn’t their own, hankering over tax brackets, salivating where to raise outlandish charges, pulling a percent from this pie from the chart, manipulating statistics, storytelling and fabricating, patiently waiting to feel the tears from the moon on the sidewalk of Washington Street

As I walked down Washington Street, I recognize too many boarded up buildings, morals and ethics were pennies that jingled in in legislators pockets, make no mistake “we are shrewd burglars that don’t need to break into your house to steal from you,” no bureaucracy is willing to save a dime, “Let’s not pretend, we love to spend” is the proverb for thieves in two piece suits, I can recollect the carpenters that hammered every nail to the bankrupt superstructures being unemployed minutes after the task was complete, the cosa nostra and baby-kissers are no longing working against each other, the henchmen and handshakers are exchanging recipes for disasters over a bottle of burgundy, chuckling, smoking Churchill cigars, reciprocating filthy and racist jokes behind doors of the dungeon, but hours later standing in front of billions with both hands together pleading “togetherness, one, unity” reading it from a teleprompter, fumbling through every word, and the sound of the crack pipe falls to the floor, the camera moves in a split second to ensure the puppet is protected by the exclusive, but let me remind you the stooge who can barely walk up a flight of stairs received eighty one million votes, let the confidence ripple, and the thunder in the catastrophic sky pierces a million ears across the globe, as I walk toward “The Devil’s Backbone Tavern” I could see the lightning whisper danger, my feet froze on the sidewalk of Washington Street

I entered the tavern and could hear the introduction of the spoken word from Ramsey Parker, a local townsman, with a raspy voice, with his arms swinging, a theatrical display…”Welcome to the the insidious circus, where the clowns are incoherent, and the ramblings labeled as a speech are gnarled and tangled, weaving in and out of grains of truth, silently signing executive orders to vaporize the capital air, beware, apathy is a tattoo on our forearm, endless pages of calculating distractions, categorized and classified, blindly swindled, if you disagree, childish tantrums will be heard, lack of respect and cohesion, popularity plummets, approval ratings dismissed, impeachment being tossed around like a softball, no hardball here, afraid to rock the sinking ship with a stumbling captain who is meant to be an oar thrown in the ocean of disgust, humanity struggling to keep their heads above water, if we throw you a life jacket, we own you! Safety wasn’t a priority, designed for the survivors to be a minority” Ramsey shouted at the top of his lungs “Wake up America before it’s too late” grab your weapon, freedom, parade Washington Street, bark at the moon and pray it doesn’t cry

The sipping regulars clapped their hands, even the bottles of bourbon and scotch are pointing fingers, the mice on the thirty year old floor scrambled from the outspoken rhetoric, the shadows on the wall nod their heads, the bartender wipes down the hallucinations over and over, the optimism shrieks like a ghost, the misfits in the booth exchange civic points of view, babbling on about equal wealth distribution, working twenty five hour weeks, bellowing over exhaustion, taking orders from convicted illegal empty headed authority figures, the bystander on the left is a former navy seal listening to the nonsense, a man who carried laurels on his back, with eyes like a sniper, capturing detail like an artist, shrugging his shoulders walking away, discomfort is drank on the rocks, while truth is an invisible spot, heading for the door to leave a place of familiarity yet smelling a stench of wrecking change

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Except from “Unpaved Crossroads”

I’ve been in love with the nectar and the sour drippings of you
I’ve been captured by the glaze of your caress
I’ve been in awe by the comfort and the shivers of your embrace
I’ve been enamored by the never ending kisses and the affection
I’ve been mesmerized by the sparkle dancing in your midnight eyes

And the love with you is breathtaking
And the love with you is indescribable
And the love with you is remarkable
And the love with you has opened me up

After so many years
I wouldn’t have changed a second

I’ve been in love with the honey and the radiant treasures of you
I’ve been enchanted by your words and glamorous skin
I’ve been aching for the centerpiece to wake me up and feel alive
I’ve been daydreaming of an endless love
I’ve been intoxicated by the shimmering light twinkling in your soul

And the love with you is breathtaking
And the love with you is indescribable
And the love with you is remarkable
And the love with you has opened me up

After so many years
I wouldn’t have changed a minute


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Here I am, I don’t have followers
I have sanguine blisters and
indecisions stirring in my reckless mind
I’ve stood in the corridor of my considerations
and wide eyed aspirations
I’ve been guided by intolerable vices, a stench of trivial knowledge and sarcasm
I have concoctions growing in my garden
I’ve borrowed money from my child like brother
to rent a house not far from the Porcupine River
We use to play like thieves, run like dogs,
and wrestle in the amber mud for hours
I live in a two bedroom apartment,
One block away from the Midtown bakery
On Sunday’s I can smell the Apple fritters
I’ve worked at the local grocery store since I was fifteen
“Lucky” isn’t a word in my vocabulary
I bite my fingernails as I ponder in front of my 1971 typewriter
From 9pm to 10pm I’m a rapid reader
I fell in love with Mark Twain and the storytellers from the innocent wild
Stuck on the lucid and elusive chapter ten
Captivated between the commas and engaging dialogue
I cough at the errors and sniffle at the page count of my thrill seeking novel
I stretch out my imagination like a rubber band
Manuscript growing like a an oak tree
Here I am, born an offbeat writer
The people who know me stand distant
Afraid to crawl inside the brain of characters
I left my day job at the age of forty two
Perspiration and diligence were on my side


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Exchanging histories, undiscovered blessing
She was born with silent violet butterflies
dancing in her “catch my breathe” eyes
A surreal connection, depth with curves
She walks with simplicity dripping from
her mysterious and irresistible lips

And she sings with heartache and strength
And she sings with brilliant magic
And she sings with white hot conviction
And her inner beauty is a magnificent star

I walk through the forest listening to her enchanted voice
I walk through the forest following her footprints

Kindhearted edges, carrying wreckage
She carries invincible wings over her
worn out and distressed shoulders
crystals floating in her periwinkle soul
She lights up in the dark like a firefly
armed with blistering faith

And she sings with heartache and strength
And she sings with brilliant magic
And she sings with white hot conviction
And her inner beauty is a magnificent star

I walk through the forest concentrating on her enchanted voice
I walk through the forest guided by her dazzling spirit


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Walking Paradox

She will care for thirty seconds
and write a novella of accusations
She will pine for your sensitive hands
and cry a stream of tears from a distance
She will crave hours of chit chat
and stare at grim skeletons in silence
She will dance and twirl in the garden
and be embarrassed of her defects in loneliness

“In my view, I was raped by his alluring
vocabulary, molested by his wit and probed
by his twinkling generosity. He turned me into a walking paradox.”

And the mystery within her dwells
And the inconsistency smears her delusions
And the absurdity fills her weary lungs
And the enigma is like condensation
And the anomaly marches within her mind

She will walk with poise and diligence
and shout with obscenities doused in wildfire
She will cherish the remains and residue
and toss her pieces she loathes in the garbage
She will wrap herself up in sanitized anxiety
and chuck courage up against the wall
She will run with convictions in her fist
and ignore the principles that define her

And the secrecy within her is desolate
And the conundrum drips frustration
And the perplexity drains her focus
And the complications steer her vision
And the rattle stumbles within her mind

“In my perspective, I was poisoned by his compliments, fondled by his intellect and abused by his sincere confidence. He turned me into a walking paradox.”


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Dandelion skin,
your consequences hang from your eyelashes
your backbone has an invisible crack
your tenacity wallows in the closet
your cheeks are filled with solitude
your apprehension feels like a heart beat

Grace from within witness’s a glimpse

“I can’t hear what you are saying, I’m too
busy fading”

Dandelion skin,
your affliction surrounds you like a cloud
your sheath carries an uneven stigma
your serenity is deep in your lungs
your perseverance sleeps with obscurity
your illusion is smeared and splattered

Grace from within is numb and worn

“I can’t run from the silence any longer, I can finally see parts of me that are stronger”

Dandelion skin,
your uncertainty plays hide and seek
your strain trips over your kindness
your sway crumbles in your defeated fingers
your delusions disappear in the fog
your trance whispers in the shade

Grace from within has the answers

“In this garden, I will blossom and continue to grow, the grace from within will finally show”


My books are available here.

She’s exhausted from spilling ink
She’s uncertain with her fingertips
She’s wobbly and shaking on the inside
She’s powerless from the past
She’s flimsy as a thin piece of paper
Sing me a song for wide hope
Sing me a song for stretched out faith

She’s frail within her bones
She’s isolated from the rattle
She’s licking her wounds quietly
She’s aching for companionship
She’s comfortless and abandoned
Sing me a song for freedom
Sing me a song without chains

She’s tangled up in desolation
She’s withdrawn and torn down
She’s a tragedy without a witness
She’s reclusive and friendless
She’s a sky without any clouds
Sing me a song for change
Sing me a song for healing


My books are available here.

That’s the way the addiction grumbles
That’s the way the drunk stumbles
That’s the way the moon serenades
That’s the way the elephants walk in the parade
That’s the way the politicians talk
That’s the way the predators gawk

That’s the way the innocent dream
That’s the way the raped scream
That’s the way the fears surrender
That’s the way the cold remembers
That’s the way the lost are found
That’s the way the veterans weep to the sounds

That’s the way the truth should be told
That’s the way the lies are bitten and sold
That’s the way the victim cries
That’s the way the quiet feel inside
That’s the way the impregnator stares
That’s the way the son of a bitch cares

That’s the way the glass is poured
That’s the way the children are ignored
That’s the way the perception is skewed
That’s the way the label is crude
That’s the way the society thinks
That’s the way the one percent drink

That’s the way the air becomes stale
That’s the way the skin becomes pale
That’s the way the poets write
That’s the way the day turns into night
That’s the way the heart breaks into bits
That’s the way the last puzzle piece fits

That’s the way the thunder growls
That’s the way the thieves prowl
That’s the way the light disappear
That’s the way the dark becomes crystal clear
That’s the way the luck falls
That’s the way the anger crawls

That’s the way the perpetrators finger points
That’s the way the hippies smoke a joint
That’s the way the teacher dresses
That’s the way the students make messes
That’s the way the winners gloat
That’s the way the captain steers the boats

That’s the way the rich treat the poor
That’s the way the small companies closes its doors
That’s the way the snake rattles
That’s the way the beast fights in battle
That’s the way the cookie crumbles
That’s the way the insider fumbles

That’s the way the performers act
That’s the way the sky becomes black
That’s the way the song is heard
That’s the way the villains see the words
That’s the way the view turns into stone
That’s the way the virtuous become alone

That’s the way the branch breaks
That’s the way the dealers make mistakes
That’s the way the world divides
That’s the way the humans collide
That’s the way the people see
That’s the way the universe will be


My books are available here.

She use to be my enraptured muse
A mystical raindrop that drenched my entirety
guided by purity, kindness and authenticity
unveiling the sentiments in navy ink
written in the coveted firethorn notebook

In the afterglow she disappeared
Stillness was the enemy

She use to be the prayer between both hands
A snowflake cleansing my weary tongue
navigated by a sweet hummingbird whistling
displaying the verses with a keen eye
penned in a diary surrounded by flames

In the afterglow she vanished
tranquility was the rival

She use to be my northward carnival
A buzzing gypsy crooning in my orchestra
maneuvered by truth, sympathy and light
revealing the lines with unseen impressions
authored in a journal of mysterious flare

In the afterglow she escaped
serenity was her shadow boxer

I couldn’t make her remove her beloved wings


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I’ve watched you become the acrobatic apologist
I’ve heard about the yellow fellow who broke your melodic heart
I’ve recited the third page from your journal pertaining to your inadequacies
For your wounds will heal in the garden
I stand as your protector, silver shield, and the knight in the desert
My love for you is a basket of gold
I’ve witnessed the boy who cemented crippling demands
I’ve stared at the smeared carmine lipstick
on your oval mirror and that reads
“The chip on my shoulder weighs a ton”
I’ve scolded the gentleman who made claims of manhood
For your discolorations will be cleansed
I stand as your defender, eagle’s eye, and sword
My love for you is fearless and is a scent of heaven
I’ve growled at the heathens who replaced love with immaturity and lust
Daphne, my beloved, your fantasies and dreams are sacred
Your darkness can shine in our universe


My books are available here.

She murmured sardonic puns, three line riddles and a secret written by her morning phantom
She was sipping on Coca Cola with percolating eyelashes carrying a catatonic grin
I sighed “your diabolical scent is quite ravishing and eloquent”

I didn’t mean to ignite the past
I didn’t mean to love you with the left eye
I didn’t mean to fall so hard with a faithless romantic

She gargled bits of authenticity, lucid theories, and swallowed a vitamin of intensity
She often spills her aggression, animosity, and uneven morals in her bloodhound diary
I cringed “your radiant light is piercing through the thick of the night”

I didn’t mean to surrender to your heart of stone
I didn’t mean to adore your nightmares
I didn’t mean to wipe away the rain in the storms

She has a mystifying language drenched in symbolism and an accent with a pinch of kindness
She miscalculated and misplaced the affection
I gasped “your insidious magic feels like gold, makes me wonder why your story hasn’t been told”

I didn’t mean to say those words
I didn’t mean to remove your veil
I didn’t mean to make you so afraid


My books are available here.

I use to languish in the polygon of my weeping mind

I thirst for the fragments of my anguish to mold my center

I use to sulk inside myself and drink the wine of selfishness

I sunk my teeth into the dejection

I use to dwell in the camouflage and sink in my words

I swam in the black river under the oppression

I use to neglect faith and drown in the empty tear ducts

I fell into the depths of silence

I use to grieve in the awaken sadness and never sleep

I felt the last breath deceive me

I use to shed my dead skin in the morning to erase the gloomy nights

I carried a chain of misery

I use to gasp at the hollowness and gazed at the autograph

I refused to stare at the nemesis

I saw the signature and found it revolting

A transformation within shouted


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I’ve been cauterized by my figment of
my bleary imagination
I’ve overlooked the obscurity dripping
in the marrow of my bones
I’m reminded of my thin sensibilities
drifting in a whirl
my memories weep in the photograph of
Black-Eyed Susans in the vase
next to the grin of my brave mother

Thank you for the encouragement
Thank you for the warmth
Thank you for walking with me in the dark
Thank you for the light
you gave your grandson

I’ve been sobbing at the gravesite
with a four leaf clover clenched in my hand
I’ve heard the growl within the pieces
of my shattered heart
I’ve stared into the loss and the pins
sticking in my sensitive nerves
my memories weep in the photograph of
Black-Eyed Susans in the vase
next to the grin of my brave mother

Thank you for the joy
Thank you for the unconditional love
Thank you for your never ending presence
Thank you for the smile
you gave your grandson


My books are available here.

I’m glaring at a absent generation
minds glued to screens, tabloids,
Improving technology to do less
exercising depreciating value
at a ridiculous and outrageous rate
waving at the growl of the sunrise
four to six times a year, if that
operating like a business losing funds
I’m gawking at the disappearing
fundamentals, the backbone of humanity
digress, blaming the collapse of
civilization, pointing fingers at plastic
leadership, ignorance tattooed from
head to toe, wearing air pods to only
hear the agendas cloaked in madness
environmentalists shaking their heads

“listening” was just a nomadic word
fumbling around like a homeless man
sipping on vodka from his rustic flask
And the billions can feel the blisters
on their lackadaisical and passive feet
from the furious sun that hides behind
sinister clouds, rattle me off that diabolical
speech with spite beaming in your eyes
I can see our enemies juggling bullets
and nuclear warfare with a legislative grin
where the truth is hidden, lies are contagious
speaking from both sides of the mouth
camouflaging motives and authenticity

I have witnessed the formation of the
surface world order, removing shovels,
eyebrows not raised, accepting mediocrity
I am surrounded by mosquitos, snakebites,
takers, and a symphony playing in the
background of reality where the screams
are silent and the violence is obscene
I walk throughout the forest to seek peace
but only to discover the fall of humanity
“Borrow, borrow, borrow, we will pay the
high interest tomorrow, and forevermore”
the economy fluctuates, bargains with salesmen, trades with allies, shakes hands
with the murderers, and the sun boils like it’s
sitting on a hot stove at 6:30pm in suburbia
waiting for a mother of three to throw in a pound of rigatoni’s to cook, run down and tired from the six hours of restless sleep working
two jobs, patiently hanging for her ex husband
to knock on her sanguine door to hand her a a child support check that will most likely bounce

And the children develop atrocious habits,
slightly dysfunctional, erratic behavior, struggling in school, and the therapy bill
shows up three months past due
And she can’t pay that, saving nickels and dimes to take her joker like ex back to court
And the cycle of justice, lack of law
spins like a carousel without any pauses
education slowly slipping out the pyramid
degrees acquired through sixty five inch tv’s
while paperback books became archaic
illiteracy, comprehension, critical thinking,
tossed into a body bag and thrown into
the bloodhound River by hundred thousand
dollar jesters playing as puppet masters
dictating, removing “history”, deciding
on relevance, worth and silver dollar merit
Suits and paisley ties, accountants, who fixate
on numbers lack the ability to “understand”
people, individuals, and civilians
And the sun cringes at the decision makers,
narcissists behind a desk, keep drinking the
Devil’s urine, believe in your hypocrisy
your bed is on the bottom floor breathing
in his arrogance and his cryptic verbiage

I’ve glanced at the complexity of relationships
but see the shade of nuances in simplicity
break down the triangle into savoring sections
remove the minutia, erase the routine
create mouthwatering memories, frame the
watercolors of kisses and fragments of
the beloved tears, surrender to the emotions
light up humanity with a endearing greeting
extract the labels of humans, classify and only
subjects, things, and objects not individuals
advertise nothing, be who you are, be the magnet, collect the pieces that make you whole, ignore the punchlines, block out the
negativity, embrace the smiles, make new beginnings and say goodbye to the nerve
crashing endings, celebrate life, the seconds,
move forward, don’t sit still, rely on your instincts, love your shadow, and never stop dreaming, be who you want to be, grow from the sunshine

I steer clear from the plexiglass propaganda,
narrow minded narrative and the acidic agenda
I chuckle and smirk at the raised clenched fist
In my peripheral vision, I can see the dancing tricksters, articulate magicians, and the monotone zombies pacing on the streets
I am a stained bystander, observing the division, but put the universe under a
microscope and visually see Gods hand
holding the earth with tears falling from his
cheek, I can hear him whisper a few words,
but the only clear word I grasp is “rapture”
I can see tragedies thrown into junkyards
due to corporations believing anything
and everyone is expendable and has a price
And the sun turns it’s head, no longer in front of the vast kingdom we speak about
And the sun disappears like a unspoken ghost
hibernating from the turbulent storms

I scoffed at the down dressed pan handler that quietly entered his Mercedes Benz between
Delusive Avenue and Excrement Road
I wasn’t startled to hear the egos of pin stripped suits brag about what they owned
I drive by the boarded up apartments that
have been empty for a decade but filled with rats and carry a stench for endless miles
I scan the faded newspaper of the landlord who lives in a palace who is liable for the boxed up
belittled residence, slightly haunted and eerie
I recognize empty fields, hollow playgrounds,
clear parks, and trees that don’t hear a word
leaves blowing away, hushed and dampened,
melancholy drips into the creeks, fear deepen
ideologies hit a threshold, spirituality is a fog
serenity is crawling, chaos and havoc strut
hand in hand, cynicism is filling the air,
humanity generating the poisonous pollution


My books are available here.

She disguises herself with prescriptions
and 1970 cliches. More often she sleeps in black leaves and clenches to the whispers of the blizzard. She prays to the secondhand lions and searches for forgotten riddles. She laughs at horror films and weeps at the comedy classics. She’s never used the word forgiven.

She wrestles with the fears in the morning and drowns in the insomnia at night. She speaks in a language without discretion. She plays with her skeletons in the closet. She ignores the left side of her imagination. She dances to jazz and dips her fingers into white pages to write enigmatic poetry.

She expresses affection with amber kisses and her fingertips. She said goodbye to her fireflies. She built walls with quicksand and tears. She stares at her right side of her imagination. She pleads with the stone truth. She’s witnessed more endings than beginnings.

She circles her anger like a hawk. She’s deprived of human decency. She loves with a small percent of her tattered heart. The rest is locked in a music box surrounded by caution tape. She sings to her frustrations to soothe the madness. She’s in love with only parts of her identity.


My books are available here.