There was a rustle
before it dipped, plopped and clinked
and the sound made me think
of our lungs laden with this tarred air
as the bottle rattled, one last breath
and I thought about the remains of us
littered among this plastic death
Poetry
Tomorrow’s tomorrow’s
Do you ever stop to think
maybe there is no more room to grow?
we’re made small by this incessant need
always on the go
nothing is valued unless it can be sold
when we’re renting air
I won’t tell you what I told
We should be scared
but tomorrow’s tomorrow’s are too far to care
meditation teaches us to live in the moment
but the future is for sale
in a ruin of our own creation.
So I’ll take this breath now – glad it’s not tomorrow.
The dance of Predator VS prey
There is one of you
a flock of me
you run
We flee
thus the dance is on
who will it be?
Who will be Jesus amongst us
caught in your grasp
so that we can live?
Heaven forbid it might be me.
We only love in seasons
We love only in seasons
and there is nothing more earthly
than these tidal waves of lust & crime
Eve was never a woman
but a scar woven on the psyche
from all the prayers
in which we killed time
Skin-deep
My love of life is only skin-deep
because inside, I’m empty
lens pointing to the wild
alienation penetrates the bottomless pit of my lungs
and I look up to that fucking sun
and think ‘I will shoot you, you fucking cunt.’
Drunk as moose
Did your mother lick you into shape
before you got drunk as a moose?
fairy legless
Ceasar threw you into the Colosseum
you kicked every which way that you might
frothing at the mouth for a fight
because everyone is a lion
a liar
on the prowl
my little cub bear
it’s the pride that eats ya
spilling your guts is no way to hide
May as well
All this depletion
the dirt and debris of our ill-gotten gains
pulling punches
makes me think
we may as well just fuck
I want the rest of my beard back.
I trimmed my beard today
it came as quite a shock
for I had forgot
just how short
even the longest length
it will trim too!
And boy, does my face feel naked now
Poetry off the cuff: Ripples
We threw ripples on the lake
skimming stones
a reflection
how we crest and flow
a surge before the fold
a rush before the pull
a swell and then a break
all these mistakes
and successes we take
a slowing of the pace
before rushing up again
Poetry off the cuff: It was a blast
It was a blast
chasing the highs
careening around corners
watching the damselfly’s ride our slipstreams
Little beetles, hitchhikers on our shoulders
each riding on the energy of each other
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