• Poetry

    Endings

    What if that third pig was just as lazy, and the wolf ate his fill? Jack and Jill not really thirsty, so neither fell down the hill? To be or not to be, and the decision was the latter? If Richard III got his horse, would it really matter? If…

  • Poetry

    The Real World

    Welcome to the World Said with a door slam Here?s your cubicle The bathrooms down the hall The trashcan is right there, Feel free to throw in your dreams. Uniqueness is encouraged Just keep it to yourself. Imagine you?re a single cell in a huge, thriving organism But your somewhere…

  • Poetry

    My Passion Awakened

    The light is hallucinogenic as a cityscape reflects on the asphalt. The rain is almost apologetic as it patters down on its way to the gutter. A lone figure is pathetic, remebering where he’s been. His passion trying to be poetic as he grasps where he was. His soul no…

  • Poetry

    Her Body

    Tonight, he draws her from the cold with his hands. His fingertips draw back the sheets. Brushing back her hair, his fingers trace down her body. Color brushes up her face as he begins his work. Given time, she obtains a perfection only he can give her. Tomorrow, everyone will…

  • Poetry

    Best

    The best poetry comes in dreams and leaves your mind as you wake. A personal gift to you.

  • Poetry

    Lone

    My lone soul screams out against the blackness, hoping someone will hear. My tortured voice starts to dim as distant echoes are the only reply. My cobwebbed mind grasps at nothing, since no one else is near. My one reason is losing ground as I start to battle Why.

  • Poetry

    F You Too.

    Angry words from me are rare and few, but I had to write this down to make sure it was true. Obviously, you’ve forgotten everything we went once knew, Or perhaps, it just meant more for me than for you. Either way, its the worst betrayal I’ve been through. But…

  • Poetry

    Erosion

    It may start as a drop. (a tear perhaps) It only worsens from there. Time, the guaze of most wounds, is a caustic presence. Eroding away with its perpetual wind. Once a drop, now a river, snaking through sacred land. Once intimate, now no longer.

  • Poetry

    Wash My Hands

    I want to wash my hands clean Get rid of all the dirt I want to forget it all All the pain and all the hurt I want to just close my eyes And make it go away I want to just shut my mouth Not utter what I need…