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

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

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

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

I thought of the right words.
Sitting on a stool, ready
To take my laundry from out the dr
My vision accosted by a garish gre
The nihilism of the poor.

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 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

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

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

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

Menacing clouds break thunder
with three snaps, and
the clock down the hall
strikes three chords
in the hallowed night.

The humming of the electrical wire
gently existing
outside my window
as the birds lay alongside there,
napping

The ladder is before you
Will you climb?
Well of course you will
You have the time
Those first rungs are easy

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

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

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

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

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

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

In front of the eager class
stood the fool
who had been hand-picked
by the professor
to share

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

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,

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

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

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

An echoing melody breezed through
swinging from the tops of green fo
and melted the defenses of the mou
Everything seemed to disappear thi
I was in myself a different way.

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

I’m grateful.
Grateful for the words I breathe.
For the times I’ve lived and, in
for the greatness of the moments a
I’m grateful

A bouquet of peonies sits on the k
Pictures dot the wall, the table s
with the memory of that once perfe
The clock ticks rhythmically, somb
There I am, seated at the head of

...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,

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

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

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

Do your work and remove yourself.
Don’t check the follower count,
Avoid the need to see how you have
You are a rock, immoveable in your
Missing, wanting, requiring action

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