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

Stardust in the mind,
I contemplate in exact answers,
precise manners,
for the fulfillment of a question
that beckons forgiveness.

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.

The quiet hum,
perpetual ticking
of the large grey
soda fountain in the lobby
is the only sound I hear now.

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

The language I live in
is a playground
of excessive expression.
Fitted to the guiles of love
and the rascal finishes

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

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

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

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

There’s a little bit of blood
on my breathe.
My blood,
breathing,
within vitality

I remember the tired streetlights
that emitted their hazy glow,
discoloring the grass in the park.
I remember the playful screams
of my fast rambunctious friends,

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.

“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

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

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

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

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.

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

The ghost is huddled at the end of
in a dark corner where the light f
curl over its knees, attempting to
like a child in a strange place.
It stands at the corner of my sigh

My fingers tremble in the cold
as I stack the stones in a slanted
I’m accompanied by the hummingbird
who search for the mystery in gard
sprouting within the cracks of thi

We shoot for superiority.
The best of the idea,
the winning match and set
game for the domination.
I, with masculine energy,

Here’s the bet.
What’s a blind?
Pass the pretzels bro.
I’ve never had this beer before.
Have these cards been shuffled?

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,

Inner burst of joy-
from a caffeine fix-
The modern day call to action.
I do not stand, I sit for miles
and transfixed on the

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

Rock 'n’ Roll kept me up nights
until the morning lights of the ne
became battered reminders of accos
that threw itself on my near-awake
Scrreeeeccchhhh! Long, Angry Yel

At night, I wander out from my ba
Cloaked in darkness, shrouded in s
I unlock the old cellar door with
I keep hidden behind the wall.
I get back early enough to not let

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

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

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

I swear if I have to read
one more poem
of someone cutting themselves
I’m going to cut myself.
Really deep.

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

Inside the gas station’s
public restroom
was an interesting looking old coo
that caught me off guard.
He was wearing a heart-shaped eye

You’ve got to bleed life
and be able to write it
with a grip in your hand
that knows no limit,
clenching 'til the roots

I do not waste my time
with things that do not want to be
Like angry schoolchildren
wanting to... demanding to
live in ignorance,