Some of us need kids or find God.

Some of us need kids,

or find God,

to straighten out our lives.

Empowerment comes

in many forms,

shapes, and rituals.

The world is full

of newly rich people,

though right now I am not one of them.

And your optimism

that chokes up my thought

is to blame.

Success can’t be found

on the discount rack,

when everyone is buying it.

You can believe

in anything you want, yes

but that doesn’t make it so.

Self help comes in many forms,

all of which are from within,

without a price tag.

Open your fucking eyes Tulip,

and figure it out…

It’s natural for the bough to bend before it breaks.



Nothing ever is that cut and dry.

Take me with a grain of salt

then throw me over your shoulder.

It’s the only way I know,

self taught and still figuring it out.

Just a pinch is enough though.

Nobody wants high blood pressure.

Oh, but we’re all so practiced

in the art of innocence.

I hear you when you give thanks

but that doesn’t mean I believe you.

It doesn’t mean that I don’t too.

Nothing ever is that cut and dry.

Is it?

Now, this is the part

where you throw me over your shoulder.




A momentary peace.

at rest
with desire
he knows
than to
the wind.

No longer
a girl
not yet
a woman
she will
her way,
at rest
by the
the moon.

are bound
in one another,
in tune
to the

You can try but you just can’t fool kids.

You see,
the kid doesn’t forget.

Forgive, yes
but forget, never.

Kids don’t make the rules,
but they’re a product of them.

And no matter what you say
after the fact,

the fact,
is still a fact.

No matter how old you get,
respect isn’t due

it’s earned.

You see,
enforced respect holds no weight.

Power, yes
but honor, none.

Kids don’t make the rules,
but they abide.

They see,
and survive

no matter the so called times
that they’re raised in.

You can try, but
you just can’t fool kids.

No matter how old you get,
right is right

and wrong is wrong,
things never change.

Except for the kid,
you see.


The words I’d say to an unborn son.

If you’re not ready to let go,

then don’t.

Hold on as long as you need,

and then some.

These are words I’d say,

to an unborn son.

If it seems repetitive,

that’s good.

If it hurts in a hundred different ways,

it’s supposed to.

If you don’t want to smile,

let them see you frown.

These are the words,

I’d say.

Does it get easier,

at times.

Should you forget,


Is it your fault,


The words I’d say are these.

Life will kick your ass.

Love will break your heart.

Death will drug your senses.

With the strength of a mother’s love,

I would say.

You are your father’s child,

but make no mistake,

you are not your father.

I think I’m literally starting to get it.

I could say

I’m hunched


I’m seated kind of

lazily – leg on couch

neck bent, ankle

sprain elevated

on green and white pillowcase –



with a headache

from late payments

unpaid bills

and paranoia,

that could all sound

so sweet, so elegant

like the sound of a typing machine,

if only I was still a romantic


I’d use big words to describe my feelings


for today

the clouds literally fill the sky,

there’s no check in the mail,

and I’ve got more work to do

at the finish

of this