Through Pain

I’ve a nostalgic sort of suffering,An ear infection, if I am to understand(or a slender blade piercing either side of my skull)Hot pads and an old dryer relieves the pain,But it’s the deafness that swallows me in helplessness,Waking up in the middle of the night in tears,Weeping at my pitiful helplessness,Weakness of my body wracked … Continue reading Through Pain →

4:44am, Monday

Breath on the window,Waiting to the last moment,It's fucking cold out.

On Ghosts and Spirits

The last thing I'd want is to return,To be forced to continue this game,To be trapped in this limbo of life,Forced to repeat this cruel shame.I'd rather let go of it all,This miserable, endless tirade,Condemn myself to some rest,Sleep in the bottom of my grave.

Thank you, Atticus

His hands worked slowly,Pulling up the dark covers,Tucking me in, safe. Even winter's chill,Can do nothing in the face,Of a father's love.

To Nowhere and Back

The engine turned over at last, proceeded by a hoarse round of cheers. The New Year had come and gone huddled in the back of the old Honda, a burbling hookah and a crushed pack of old cigarettes (Quit smoking or quit buying, eh?) our only source of warmth. Our passing savior and her oversized … Continue reading To Nowhere and Back →

My Response

These hands have grown old,Having done nothing worthwhile,But write loveless poetry. My eyes grow weary,Having shed so many tears,You're hardly worth the pity. My heart is heavy,Having borne so many hurts,It's now a knot of old scars. Then rejoice, old friends,Winter is a time for rest,A brief relief from the pain.

Remember Oblivion

The clock ticks the seconds towards nothing,As my heart beats out the rhythm of lost dreams,The eternal pulse towards hopeful oblivion,Measured as retreating tides towards a faraway horizon,Where my memories of you refuse to die. My dearest love gave me the timepiece,Broken now, although the message remains,Dull etchings in tarnished brass:"Time not wasted, only borrowed … Continue reading Remember Oblivion →

Retirement Strategies

I've struggled to see,The sunset of my career,As anything more than death. Honored teacher says,"A righteous man finds his peace,Only as a hollow corpse." My thoughts grow foggy,Like the wooded path leadingTo this idle hermit's home. For once in your life,Be content with well-earned sleep,And rest on your laurels, fool.

A god Am I?

Fistfuls of my clay,Puddling into mountains of disuse,While my exasperation springs forthWintry gusts of air. I wonder what they will say,The denizens of this place,Of their absentee landlord?

Listen to my Music

Loosely I lift memories,My mind's little music,From lilting melodic lullabies,To the morbid lucidities,of mindless maladies,Murmuring lifelessly,Luring madness lightly,Murdering light likely,Lyrical membrane lo -Until I cannot recall how it goes.