A stream of consciousness pros… poem? …thing? Thing.
Humans, how strange they act this way.

Humans, how strange they act this way.

Humans, how strange they do that.

Forgiveness an exchange for was.
Love is an action only spoken of.

Humans, how strange they do that.

How strange, how strange to act this way
Should you laugh or do you cry?
You act this way.
Do you know why?

Are you jealous at the man that has the thing?
Frustrated by action, withheld by a string?
Does the journey make worthy the wandering?

How strange they do that.

Humans, how strange they do that.

Humans, how strange they do that.

To get worth from what your hands can’t reach,
what they can touch is the thing that you preach.
Mistakes you’ve learned from still you teach.
Isn’t everything out of reach?

Humans, how strange they do that.

Humans, how strange they do that.

What do they paint in their chapels of cope
on walls of illusion in the language of hope?

How strange, how strange,
they act this way
as they slave to prepare for a coming day
What, oh what is a coming day?
How very strange they act this way.

The strangest things I’ve ever seen.
and no one alive knows what they mean.



suspects nothing as it’s slipping in your back
when its formed into a dagger
for the traitorous attack
if its given to a beggar
or a chain link’s silver slack

Silver is reflecting
what you gave will circle back

It has no false intention
no lies to poison ears
no malicious men to mention
with their crocodile tears

It never tells a lie
you will get what it will give
by its temperament we die
at its leisure do we live

I was listening to some rainy jazz song today, and there seemed to be a cat, laying in shallow breath by the road.


it was raining on the cat
her leg still turned from a lately attack
she breathed little wish fulls of water and spat
while corners up turned of her mouth, like a crack

“Life, oh, this life that lived, did I live.
What are the ways we wonder and wane?
My, my, my… ” was all she could give,
far too much felt to acknowledge her pain.

“The sky will rain. Won’t it fall? Won’t it feel?”
No, said her eyes, No said her will
pierced by the spoke on this wandering wheel,
wrapped in the frost, blessed by the still.

A cat can smile somewhere on the road.
She’ll wear it a while, no matter it’s lead.
She can tinder her days that she lazily strode.
Every cat has the right, every wound has to bleed



Sandy Hook

I wrote this the day of the Sandy Hook Tragedy, It didn’t feel right to post it then some how, but I feel I can now.

Sandy Hook
A Children’s Poem

Twenty little candles shine
upon horizons blue with brine
upon the hilltops green with pine
Twenty little candles shine

Twenty angels smile bright
in the gleam of candlelight
that breaks the black of darkest night
Twenty angels smile bright

Twenty people try to heal
try to understand or feel
though they think they never will
Twenty people try to heal

Twenty children laugh and play
rend the silence, rule the day,
and in our hearts they’ll stay that way
Twenty children laugh and play

Twenty nations heard the sound
as silence followed all around
and stood together, still, profound
Twenty nations heard the sound

One man looked with furrowed brow
upon his country here and now
and prayed that things would change somehow
One man looked and stopped the rhyme
of things repeating every time
the greed, the tyranny, murder’s climb
he thought nothing too sublime,
just “No more.”

No more vendettas, no more schemes
not just one man’s rights or dreams
but dream for they that cannot fight
of twenty little candles, bright.

For twenty little candles shine
upon horizons blue with brine
upon the hilltops green with pine
Twenty candles shine and shine
Forever shine

The Monster’s Ball

Welcome to the monster’s ball
Monsters, we are monsters all
You’ve got some nerve
You’ve got some gall
To come and view the monster’s ball

Monsters are we beautiful
Terrible, immutable
Wondrous, if refutable,
certainly inscrutable

To devour all your loves and hates
amphetamines on silver plates
Be your ridiculed revile
Return disdain with perfect smile

And even raised upon your pyre
To know I’m still what you desire
That you could never quench this fire
Raise the stakes aflame with ire

And we will feast what you profane
We will thrive and glut with vane
And in your mind will lay the pall
Of when you viewed the monster’s ball
And fools will lay where fools may fall
Be warned ye of the monster’s ball

The Monolith’s Shadow

This is another heated ember, pleading. A future perhaps, a present to some, the bleak shadow of what looms and directs, disillusions, and controls. This came during the Bush regime and stands, still looming and fortified by a new force of will.

The Monolith’s Shadow

Do you feel me far away?
Do you want to know my name?
Can you understand the notion
of the man that fills this frame?

Do you know my pain far out there?
Can you please ask someone “why?”
When all we do
is work and bleed for you,
why must we die?

We can understand so little,
yet much there is to learn,
and, in the pain of life, we squander,
all we have it seems we burn.

A puzzle in a cycle,
a rhythm no one hears,
only falling over footfalls
that we’ve fallen on for years.

No joints to turn around again,
no way to understand,
no one left to comprehend
this length of breaking land.

We’ve won our free illusion
that our freedom can be had,
but freedom’s held by no one
and our system’s going mad.

Now we bite our nails.
Now we’re bleeding from the gum,
we beckon blindly all this pain
for some thing else to come.

But we’ve spent our bitter tears away
on things that matter not
and what we’ve won again, I say
‘s a fistful full of rot.

Nothing’s coming for us,
our heroes in the dust,
we’ve murdered all our allies now,
the gears of Home are rust.

The great machine in shiny paint
is falling to the ground
and all the things she built are faint,
so nothing can be found.

The ink and blood that made her run
have all but run their course,
now she barrels through the world
like clockwork, no remorse.

Decaying teeth
Decaying breath
Decaying life she took and left
Decaying leg
Decaying feet
Decaying, rotting, throne and seat
Decaying words
Decaying life
Decaying freedom fraught with strife

If we are a land that God does bless,
then why are our children motherless?
If we are land that’s made to lead,
then why do we let our brothers bleed?
If we are a land on truth is bent,
then why are we left so ignorant?
If we are a land with an open heart,
then why do our doors of love not part?

We are the people no one saves,
the lessons no one knows.
A threshold of a thousand graves
where nothing ever grows.

We sit in silence and wish to speak
but words mean nothing here,
and the things they tell us, though are bleak,
the truth is not quite clear,

the only one’s who could understand
are sleeping soundless in the sand
while we sit silent in the hand
of an ever falling length of land,
an ever burning pop-up book
some child now has surely took.

A Word In The Sand (…Ancient Embers)

Yet another simmering ember of my past, this plea was again to love, a love that I had to let go. I sat and watched all my chances to rebuild the bridges I was burning go up with the flame, but it was a controlled burn, a preening of my heart, and a disintegration of the selfish loneliness that begged me to reel that love back in and laud over it in my cozy cave, comfortable with the rot of it in my arms, slowly decaying for my own self pleasure. So, without further bittersweet adieu, here is the poetic sequel to “Goodbye”.

A Word In The Sand

Goodbye, again, Goodbye,
floating faraway
Seems that every time I try
“Goodbye” is what I say

He never found my island,
though I know he tried.
I’d leave him letters in the sand
before I’d run and hide

Pretty words on sandy turf
that faded with the waving surf
If you read it, if you’d try
You’d only see my sad goodbye
Did you hear my muffled cry?
was what I’d wished I wrote a lie?
I don’t know.

No man is an island
and that No Man is me,
No Man waiting in the fog,
waving like the sea.
No Man sitting on a log,
immovable as me.

I can see you searching still,
leaving from my piers,
but soon I know you never will,
words will wash with tears.

My last chance soon will see me,
turning like a light,
with warnings of the rocks ahead
at dimming, fading height.

You’re turning one last time to talk
and soon will turn around.
You’re screaming from your Widow’s Walk
and I hear not a sound.

You were a grace I could not pray,
a path that I did gladly stray,
a cold shock on a summer’s day
that woke me from this listless fray,
and as I let you go today
my heart said words I wouldn’t say.
Wants that bid me ask you stay,
selfish words I put away.

A treasure trove of silly thoughts,
for only me to see,
full of “could haves” and “could nots”
and dreams that would not be.

A hearth of fiery regret,
books of what I’ve learned,
things I will not soon forget
and what we both have burned.

I hide here in my treasure cave,
you’re searching one last round.
The S.O.S. you cannot save
will never now be found.

I feel the glow you lit here,
It warms me in the cold.
I know your way will soon be clear,
I pray you can be bold.

We sailed the great expanse, we did.
We blazed the blue, like sky.
I hope it never changes, kid,
I hope you never try.
I hope the sky of sea we sailed
caused a title wave.
I hope the ship we two availed
is never ever saved.

The pirate’s life in love we lived,
the pirate gods we thank,
with not a sin we’ve done forgived,
I gladly walk the plank.

So on my island I will stay,
sad to watch you go
and knowing, some how, in a way,
that, yes, it must be so.

I only ask, that it may be,
that sometimes when you see the sea,
for just one moment think of me,
a single moment, full and free

Not one second ever more,
just enough to crack a smile,
just a-glance the lonely shore,
one moment in a while

to remember, maybe, how we dreamed,
how we laughed and fought so wild,
even when we sometimes screamed
like some little angry child.

How every word and each complaint
was just another stroke of paint
on the canvas that is you
and now, in part, am I there too,

painted pictures of the sea,
treasure maps of you and me,
and though I still am here, it’s true.
Apart of me ’s a part of you

Now as you turn your head to sea
and sail by stars alight above,
I write upon the sand again,
by moon, my one last word is