Poets want everything

that you can’t buy

so please don’t be a beautiful fool

full of that deep ache

you label

either love or anxiety

confused with what your brain

tells your heart.

poets should inspire

hurt, reveal, cover up

use foundation on rhymes

but we tend to float

between lives

and we know it takes skill

shallow waters

and observation of the highest calibre.

use a gun on my thoughts

destroy the need to get in my mind

and settle for my body.

fill it up with your elbows, knees

beard, shoulders, lips

any part that the sun kisses.

sigh a bit over my drum beats

red carpet humanity

don’t be ashamed of who we are

be proud

be brilliant

in this poetic grace

only the few like us


when I left you the last time

we met

I tried hard to not look back.

don’t  you find poets

look back way too often

in real life in  pretend?

some questions are better

left unanswered.

there is a riot

in our minds

and hugs and kisses

to all of you

who love how words

kiss us and kill us

in unison.




Fighting with words every day
sheep creating lines
passing them like batons
which one is the best
most revered
behind those closed doors
no one sees the awful truth
but you.
You know the endless list
and all you want to do is
live in raging room that can hold down your pain
splashing words like the marquis De Sade
from tags and pokes in the soul
murdering words
you’ve come to abhor.
Talking FB is not talking at all
I got out long ago. And still they want to pull me back in like the Godfather, I jest.

That’s my real picture
my real thoughts

On screen.
Only the lonely can follow
the ones who know what crying entails
hanging onto the marble grave
remembering life without a site
people talking
governments always crooked
reliable for that.
But the war within
fluctuates in states unknown
And with the flick of a song
my mood is out the window
twerking and driving to my kids’ horror.

If it can’t come out in words

It has to come out through movement

It needs to escape the walls within.

Today Pat Benatar rules. It’s like School of Rock in my car and Anne Sexton in my head.
Sometimes, there’s silence and then you flood my thoughts and I want to drown.