There’s no denying that’s a pretty face
There’s no excuse still for being late
The corner store’s got a sale on
Greeting cards that sell have price love
There’s truth in breathing at an even pace
There’s beauty bending to bear the weight
Now either way you feel overwhelmed
Exchanging coffee for whiskey now
I’ve got a big bad wolf of a habit
Full of hot air and over dramatics
Got a house built solely of glass when
I huff and puff well nothing happens
I gave her cashmere for Christmas once
She gave me friendship when I had none
There’s proof in putting a sweater on
The back of someone you’re giving up
I’ve got a big bad wolf of a habit
Full of disdain for love when I have it
Got a house built solely of glass and
No stones left to throw just ashes ashes
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Our Herded Hearts
I’d rather cringe
in ecstasy, than
quiver in disgust.
We revel
in redundancy
it’s all we have to trust—
ourselves against the odds
initials on a wall, each letter
carved with dignity—
till dignity is lost.
We’re clueless
with the clues,
useless feeling used.
Each hopeless
a romantic, each helpless
as romance is.
And we can smell our own,
like cattle led to slaughter,
knowing that we’re next.
Our herded hearts must witness
each blow before our last.
Smile
What a bore it is
To see yourself
Reflected in the eye
Of another’s
Lonesome smile
Where you can see
The charade
Designed like a maze
Where nobody gets out
And everyone’s stuck—
Feeling most unwell
It
With it I feel
Something
Without it
I feel Something
It is I as I is it
And can be many things
A pebble in the shoe
A headache after dark
A dismal brackish thing
That I wonder if it feels
Something without me?
It’s probably for the best
To leave it alone.
Footnote
Her love
Like a phantom
Continues to be
A Footnote
On this broken
Chandelier
Of a story
For the underground
Due Date
For the extra couple hours sleep
I’ll take the 50 dollar ticket thanks.
And pay it with a smile, smugly
the day after it’s due—
This Boys Life
If it sounds like suicide
It’s probably suicide
If it doesn’t, then
It’s probably suicide
You see. I’ve got to toy with it
I’ve got to play with it
Let it tangle me in knots until
I’ve grown tired of its tricks, until
I’ve acquired a finer taste
For those brief honest moments
Just before sleep, letting him go
Pillow breathing in peace, with it all
And how it had to end, in order for
This boys life—to begin…
Golden Hearts
How long have you been kicking
Rocks that turn to dust
Destroyed by what’s been filling
Your golden heart with rust
That tree that you’ve been climbing
Tell me where it leads
Across a moonlit river
Among the frightened leaves
It’s someplace quite worth knowing?
It’s quite a sight to see
Where devils dance and parlay
Come fire walk with me
The path of least resistance
It’s trampled in the weeds
Excuse my cheap persistence
I’d follow if you’d lead
The rocks that I’ve been kicking
Each mineral’s a must
To know when I’ll be ready
To rebuild you from dust
A Dog On Ice
It’s not often that she likes my stuff
Maybe one poem a season
Four poems a year
It’s enough to break me down
It’s enough to get me drunk
until she tells me I’m a fool
Which is enough to bring me back
In the Winter
Summer
In the Spring time like a flower
And by Autumns moon
With the goblins and the ghouls
She dances
like a dog on ice
And tells me my head looks big
when I get too thin…
So for that, I know
I can trust her
50/50 split
Some days it’s a blessing
Others it’s a curse
Today’s a bit of both
I’ll only make it worse—
Perhaps this awful feeling’s
A 50/50 split
We balance our emotions
Like Humpty Dumpty did
But come on little Lucy
Fairies don’t exist
The sky ain’t full of diamonds
Your LSD is shit
If proof deserves a reason
I’m aimless as a kid
The message in the pavement
It’s cold covered in spit—
On days that it’s a blessing
Send someone for the hearse
When truth sounds like confession
On those days it’s a curse
Words Of An Average White Male 