The tower of Babel
was destined to fall
not because of the
wrath of God,
but the hatred

Oh how I wish
my talent with words
were like
that of a painter
with color and dimension.

I am in the city of dead arisen,
surrounded by saints and sinners;
some safer in cars, cardboard pack
in halcyon piles to suffocate the
For others, houses blow in the win

She was my little nymph
Unaware of it but something I onl
The love legendary in moments beyo
as I close my faithful eyes to fin
I feel awake as my mind pushes my

There’s four of them, circling aro
not doing or thinking of tomorrow.
Just simple thoughts and words sha
to each other. Today yet another d
Dressed mostly in black, with rand

The rain was not refreshing.
we waited and waited
on those barren, thirsty
desert hills.
But no rain came.

You let them run free.
guided, sure, but still free
to make their mistakes and live li
You let them experience their pove
Let them earn success through dest

A heart of sadness,
on a spectators’ pilgrimage
to the regions of the unknown.
I wish I knew.
I wish I could recuperate.

If I could pray,
I would pray that you all
enjoy your lives.
Final, but not ultimate, enjoyment
of the self and restlessness.

Everything is a reaction
to everything.
This sentence is a reaction
to the last.
The periods at the end are all rea

He haunts me every night
a ghostly light highlights a darkl
Skin the color of starlight in mem
Dreaded demon of conscious-less em
He is my demented tormentor

Creating, condemning,
piercing my skin with a
rough sketch, tattoo ink
and a clueless reminder
found within every pore.

The rain wanted to fight me.
Pouring down to become pines and n
splashing upwards,
dropping down with mock-unison
into the now flooded sidewalk.

This little book of rhyme
holds captive my heart.
No, my mind’s the real upstart.
Credit to my heart’s a crime.
Desperation took the real blow

The lapel of my jacket held its wa
as I walked down the daring, dark
I couldn’t spell my own defeat
as the passions of my vengeance un
Like a knight fighting for vain gl

I wish my memories were translated
Reflections of my life,
entranced in melody,
I wonder how they would sound.
The music of my memories...

She sat there
across the table from me
as music blared through
the night sky.
Heavy majestic clouds,

Alas my fellow poets, have I foun
amongst your fold: fellow stoics,
Kindred in spirit and dreamers of
Oh sweet apathy, I write of your
Oh lady I will be your beer speak

I keep seeing
them
out of shadows
they creep,
men in black robes.

There it is again,
that weird, translucent
awareness suddenly felt when
sitting directly opposite from som
in a small, non-intimate room.

I was Marcus Arelius in love.
Eh rm, except with a woman.
I was an excited spark in flight,
Ah hmm, albeit alone.
My want is mine own, young und old

Lines of them there.
People in a crowd,
hundreds of them.
An outdoor concert, vibrations
pulsating the air, inviting the hu

...in a desert of boredom. Or ennu
The words flutter like a salacious
Foaming at the mouth, inappropriat
Baudelaire on drugs.
A reading, by a poet,

Why choose misery over
the joy found when
mugs on the table
hide their secrets
and pour out everything

“You gotta let your poems sing, ma
the old poet said.
His red ball cap perched atop his
like a lonely old moment of youth,
covering a mind alive with creativ

You used to walk around the park
and feel the air perched on your t
but now it is no more.
Once written in mosaic glass
is now just a shatter on the floor

I really wanted to die
underneath that heavenly blue sky,
and leave behind the tensions and
and float upwards and away from th
No longer called a buffoon,

At first, I was the reveling masq
In a dozen wanton nights,
with a lack of fright for social a
I sought to receive.
I sought to breath

Lined up the gunmen
with sparkling garments, one by on
spelled doom for the poor prisoner
who gazed at the setting sun.
The pompous captain stood tall,

I view death as my friend.
Sitting on my bed, playing
a guitar like a silent weeping wom
who has just lost a child.
I view life as a mustard seed.

Do your work and remove yourself.
Don’t check the follower count.
You are a rock, immoveable in your
You are the river that breathes an
You are provider. And receiver.

I grew up staring starry-eyed at t
of healthier men walking out of do
head held high while I kept their
It wasn’t something to really envy
and a fine nights sleep. No family

What is a name?
Glorified ticket to fame?
Or something else entirely?
Are you a fallen tree in the fores
or are you a pair of ragged claws

Loud angry voices
emanating throughout
the land trying best
to think best about
what is best. Argue best.

A puff of air
internalized
in a vacant room.
Cows among me chewing
the expensive cud that

Little black rocks dotted the side
as I held my gaze down there.
What was I doing here...
almost crippled by fear
No, I’m doing this.