I didn’t advertise this and I should have when I released this book, the majority of poems are personal. This collection was written over a long period of time. Through out my life I’ve used writing poetry as an outlet because I had no one to turn to. My mother passed away at a young age, 48, due to health issues. I grew up watching her being sick but take it like a champion. She was one of the first people to have had a liver transplant. Due to medicine, the medicine at the present time killed her kidneys. Because of this, I struggle with intimacy in many ways. My father was an alcoholic and in my twenties I married one. In my thirties I had outgrown my ex wife and wanted more in life as she digressed. She made the choice to say she didn’t have a problem when she did. Long story short, she killed herself after our divorce and left her daughter behind. I can admit I was not a perfect husband, I did some things I shouldn’t have done.

I went back to school to improve myself while trying to work. During that time, I met the woman I eventually married – a strong but vibrant woman. I fell in love with her ocean blue eyes and her gentle spirit. She works in the medical field to save lives and commend her for that. I now have a four year old son that looks up to me and strive to be a better person.

I want my writing to serve several purposes. I want people to look inward and identity their own destructive patterns that prevent them from any form of growth. Perhaps if you can recognize them, you can see them in others. I think most answers that we seek are within ourselves. We do need help from time time, but essentially it starts with being honest with yourself. But we struggle to look at ourselves because it’s hard.

Although I’ve started out writing from a personal place, I trained myself to write from different perspectives by observing humanity. I’ve also learned to write just for fun, for me, and to challenge myself to approach the writing process from a technical stand point.

I often use humor and sometimes am inappropriate at times because I don’t want people to know the real me because the real fear is that they will leave me. Making and maintaining friendships is a challenge. I don’t have any male friends that I do things with and to some degree I am ok with it for various reasons. I go by the motto “a pen and a piece of paper won’t leave me like people.”

I am a work in progress like everyone else.
Today was the day I felt the need to share my a part of my story.


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Invigorating flare, divine storm
Slipping into a harmonious dimension
wrapped up in all of your inferno
vicious kisses, candy like touches
immersed in your tactile desires, my muse
Taste the hunger of the blazing star

And the electricity ripped the champagne sheets
And the sparks lit up in the tragic skies

A liquid sigh, voluptuous wildfire
gliding into a psychedelic mist
surrounded by your musical sirens
delightful growls, exotic whispers
sparkling in the moonlight, my muse
craving the thirst of the blazing star

And the provocative motion burned
And the ricochet sent shockwaves

whiplashed tension, pulsating snake
spiraling into a smoldering spasm
toes curling, spellbinding tongue
breathtaking havoc accelerating
oblivion touching nerve endings, my muse
yearning the skin of the blazing star

And the enigma was quite exquisite
And the mesmerizing fever glistens forever


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(1st Verse)
I’ve got butterflies in verses
dreams waiting patiently in the dark
I’ve got the saxophone playing on the curb
whispers breathing in my heart
I’ve got solitude sitting in the corner
fears waiting out in the cold
I’ve got memories standing on the hill
But I’ve got love dancing in my soul

Chorus:
Endless pages,
ballerinas gliding on a summers day
Endless pages,
magicians and thieves walking in the circus parade
Endless pages,
the wind twisting in your sparkling eyes
Endless pages,
filled with autumns truth and winter lies
In in the end, together we will be singing a lullaby

(2nd Verse)
I’ve got dragonflies in my paragraphs
stanzas with lightning and thunder
I’ve got violins in my bittersweet symphony
clouds disappear in my sense of wonder
I’ve got rage bleeding between the lines
insomnia running down an awaken road
I’ve got sunflowers smiling in the shade
But I’ve got love dancing in my soul

CHORUS:

Bridge:
I’ve seen tenderness in the eyes of a child
I’ve seen affection in your precious smile
I’ve seen warmth in an old poor man
I’ve seen angels on earth in God’s plans
I’ve seen blessings in all of life’s stages
I’ve seen divine circles on my endless pages

CHORUS


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I coughed up a tangled fairy tale
A translucent liquid composed of quicksand
and psychedelic castles in the air
Dismay biting a breeze of reverberation
Lust was an unforgivable bottle of poison
Trapped between sincerity and admiration

For you and the wind that wraps me up in
clouds of dust, I surrender
For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender
For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender

Forgive me, if I need too much
Forgive me, if I desire too much

Caught up in the endearing glances
Unspoken words, intoxicating voice
Inviting and lost in a whirlwind
Confusing thoughts, mixed signals
Unhinged cravings, lava sensation

For you and the wind that wraps me up in
clouds of dust, I surrender
For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender
For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender

Forgive me, if I need too much
Forgive me, if I desire too much

A wicked charm alluring
Sweat pouring, rhythmic tongue
“Magic not seeing what was tragic”
Insatiable endless night dancing
Clawing and reaching for tenderness

For you and the wind that wraps me up in
clouds of dust, I surrender
For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender
For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender

Forgive me, if I need too much
Forgive me, if I desire too much


My books are available here.

‘Tis Evanoe’s,
A house not made with hands,
But out somewhere beyond the worldly ways
Her gold is spread, above, around, inwoven;
Strange ways and walls are fashioned out of it.

And I have seen my Lady in the sun,
Her hair was spread about, a sheaf of wings,
And red the sunlight was, behind it all.

And I have seen her there within her house,
With six great sapphires hung along the wall,
Low, panel-shaped, a-level with her knees,
All her robe was woven of pale gold.

There are there many rooms and all of gold,
Of woven walls deep patterned, of email,
Of beaten work; and through the claret stone,
Set to some weaving, comes the aureate light.

Here am I come perforce my love of her,
Behold mine adoration
Maketh me clear, and there are powers in this
Which, played on by the virtues of her soul,
Break down the four-square walls of standing time.

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

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


My books are available here.

My sun has set, I dwell
In darkness as a dead man out of sight;
And none remains, not one, that I should tell
To him mine evil plight
This bitter night.
I will make fast my door
That hollow friends may trouble me no more.

‘Friend, open to Me.’—Who is this that calls?
Nay, I am deaf as are my walls:
Cease crying, for I will not hear
Thy cry of hope or fear.
Others were dear,
Others forsook me: what art thou indeed
That I should heed
Thy lamentable need?
Hungry should feed,
Or stranger lodge thee here?

‘Friend, My Feet bleed.
Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.’
I will not open, trouble me no more.
Go on thy way footsore,
I will not rise and open unto thee.

‘Then is it nothing to thee? Open, see
Who stands to plead with thee.
Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou
One day entreat My Face
And howl for grace,
And I be deaf as thou art now.
Open to Me.’

Then I cried out upon him: Cease,
Leave me in peace:
Fear not that I should crave
Aught thou mayst have.
Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more,
Lest I arise and chase thee from my door.
What, shall I not be let
Alone, that thou dost vex me yet?

But all night long that voice spake urgently:
‘Open to Me.’
Still harping in mine ears:
‘Rise, let Me in.’
Pleading with tears:
‘Open to Me that I may come to thee.’
While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold:
‘My Feet bleed, see My Face,
See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace,
My Heart doth bleed for thee,
Open to Me.’

So till the break of day:
Then died away
That voice, in silence as of sorrow;
Then footsteps echoing like a sigh
Passed me by,
Lingering footsteps slow to pass.
On the morrow
I saw upon the grass
Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door
The mark of blood for evermore.


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.

Grappling with a toxic incubus
Static tangled up in hallucinations
A diabolical perpetrator is lurking
Dabbling with molecules and carbons
And I sleep with annihilation

Memorizing the periodic table of elements
Sinister mind combining mercury and lead
A splash of chromium, pinch of caesium
Blending a explosion in a wicked bottle
And I sleep with obliteration

Ensuring a plague like disease spreads wide
A blackhearted voice speaks with a chuckle
Corrupted hands, apocalyptic intentions
Selfishness wrapping around throats
And I sleep with termination

Belligerent critters stalking the lands
Referencing the last chapter of the divine
Symbolic torture rest within the dollars
Greed softens up the lips and tongue
And I sleep with eradication

A clash of reasons, brawl between sins
Fears sobbing until the break of dawn
Scent of misery swarmed the dirt
End of virtues, end of light
And I sleep with a contagious virus


My books are available here.

Maria laid down some finger tapping,
cement cracking, soul jerking, blue collar working, southern catfish blues
Maria crooned a seaside melody, number one remedy, a splash of sass, with a heavenly blast,
A feel good sunshine kind of tune

Chet was blaring his shiny trombone
JJ was banging his drum with his golden sticks
Ryan was strumming his acoustic guitar
And all the neighbors rocked until dark

And she will get you to clap your hands every ten seconds
And she will get you to move your feet in rhythm
And she will take away all your pain for a while
And she will make you forget what is missing
And if you make a left on Rolling Thunder you can hear the guitar playing
And when you drive away you can feel the earth swaying…

Maria cried out “Sha la la” with a swirl, a vintage southern girl, hitting high notes with a grin, no losers here all the jesters win, music playing all day and night
Maria dancing with a glide, happiness soaring in her eyes, carrying a enigmatic glow, putting on a show, her voice shinning so bright

And she will get you to clap your hands every ten seconds
And she will get you to move your feet in rhythm
And she will take away all your pain for a while
And she will make you forget what is missing
And if you make a left on Rolling Thunder you can hear the guitar playing
And when you drive away you can feel the earth swaying…

Chet was blaring his shiny trombone
JJ was banging his drum with his golden sticks
Ryan was strumming his acoustic guitar
And all the neighbors rocked until dark


My books are available here.