How lively and cruel
Mother Nature can be
How honest her birds
Who chirp Chickadee
Her hawk soars majestic
Through winds over sea
Her beauty unfolds
Without you or me
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Alone, together
Where are we
but forever
Alone, together
in the cosmos
of our love.
You just have to live.
Being sober’s
as overrated
as being drunk—
nobody wins.
You just have to live.
Her love was his compass
Her love
was his compass,
her blessing
his disguise,
in the pale blue light
of moon and
mother night,
her arms, his refuge
from the stormy sky
she spoke to him
like stars,
light years from afar
she held him
as the cosmos
were destined to align
Poetry
What is poetry, but
a language of the dead.
It’s an informal dance,
a shared cigarette.
Poetry is
but a one night stand.
It’s a wine ring left,
sheets, stained
between strangers.
Dying in her arms I’m happy
I see my reflection
through the tangles
from the window
of her eye, suppose
she’s figured out the angles
I’ve been playing,
oh but she’s the kind of femme fatale
worth saving, because lately
there’s a wall built higher than my own good
for, protection
oh but how it all comes crumbling down
the instant, she walks in
where dying in her arms I’m happy
Her calm was his desire
Her calm
was his desire,
because he knew
any resistance
would surely mean
death.
A holy moment.
Taking a moment
to examine your palm
is a holy moment.
And those lines, well
they’re the most honest
you’ll ever read.
The world spins for you
When the world
seems, to be
spinning without you—
just listen
breathe and remember
the world spins for you,
as it does that perfect stranger
who too is listening.
Miraculous People
What I saw that day, my mind insisted were people,
running back and forth—silhouettes—they were equal.
What I saw that day, I just couldn’t conceal
their shape was mine, it almost didn’t seem real.
See original thought comes before the prequel,
because the love we’re born with exists before evil.
What I saw that day, sure I know they were people,
while my beginner’s mind worked, I couldn’t help but feel
—their heart’s skip beats—my heart was healed,
by what I saw that day on a beach filled to equal:
coexistence at birth, we’re miraculous people.
Words Of An Average White Male 