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

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

The stars above us
live gigantic lives,
and they allow us
a shimmering glimpse
in the eve of every night.

...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,

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.

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

Life to me is covered
by a velvet sheet,
suffocating me
with rich fabric
and delicate dreams.

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

Madness ensued
in dark corners and wretched taver
where I insulted myself, and I go
by a tribal aggression; must retal
and avenge for society’s sake.

A sight of sympathy for the man,
who never thought himself too gran
or even fair to look at for long,
The ballad entails his fateful son
Afraid of estranged looks and whis

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 long time ago
I wrote a poem for a girl
whose beauty and grace
was captivating, enthralling
but who was also

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

If there was anything that mattere
I would hold hope
that the very thing
would be me.
Profitably me.

Winds like giant breaths
spoke life into the dead
with a chilling verse.
This was a night
to reanimate

Wind in this still,
distinct... thin
I swim in sin
till gin is rid.
Finding might,

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

I sat in a lowly lit room
in a harsh winter night,
fallen into a sense of despair
and feeling brutalized
by life.

Anger was beef,
and chickens were too,
and I wasn’t hungry,
at least not anymore.
And a four-score speech

In my mind, a grandmotherly smile.
There was before only suffering.
of the quivering mess.
No longer willing
to run away from the self,

Leap forward the meadow
An articulate sound
The seams of reality
Never glistening, seldom found
A life measured by pulse,

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,

A cockroach died of starvation in
Slightly annoyed as I laced my mu
to go outside and find my way to t
steal some coffee from a bank befo
I dropped my American Eagle key o

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

In this moment, I am tired.
Dare to stay exhausted?
Tonight - inspired-
yet I’m tired, off to bed.
Don't sleep, be free.

The little needle spent its life b
Taken out for another ice moon esc
I dubbed it, at my discretion behi
the life-saving, life-changing, Hi
Like a vampire’s fangs biting into

The feeling came again.
Love or Lust?
Neither I hope,
I hate writing of love.
It invokes a powerlessness

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

Do I dare sing of love
in the middle of the night?
When ghosts of family past
stand in my sight?
They judge me

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

On the shoulders of giants,
I stood defiant.
Everything about me is original
Except I did not create:
the language I speak

Lurid music
dripping about
starts softly
then crescendos
into something

In the distance, slight tapping of
Festival creating renewed life, wa
the origin of the location unknown
Then upbeat rhythm kicks in,
Announcing a different style of ce

French Vanilla,
a sweet taste
I haven’t had in a while.
Came back suddenly
when I stared too intently

I wish we were Masters. That way
we can inhabit the truth
and it would be made strong.
Love as the only thing that has
meaning. Understanding. The

And I raged against my side of th
Only a howling wind to cover my ra
I struck the wood with fists blood
A useless endeavor, unforgivingly
I grew tired of reflections