Jun 29, 2011

seven digits

there was a time
i could rattle off
a series of numbers
that connected me to you.
they where locked in my head
exercised by repetition.
no matter where i went
i could pick up a receiver
and touch your voice with my ear.
my words would jump around
and land on your plate to consume.
times have changed
and i've become lazy
reliant on technology
erasing information from my own super computer.
now i type the first two letters of your name
into a phone smarter than its predecessors
and you pop up
ready to receive my decibels.
if i were to lose this handheld
i would be lost
fall back on technology other than my own
with an email begging for your math.
i've tried to get back
into the art of memorizing digits
but i slip back into the comfort of ones and zeros.

Jun 28, 2011


life as vacation
that's the master plan.
as in god love money happiness
there are various ways
to a singular point.
i'll find my way
you'll find your way
only if we remember
to live like it is a vacation
so that we are never dissapointed
when we go back to work.


Jun 24, 2011


i'm becoming allergic to that word.
it's a knee jerk reaction to know
why things happen the way they do
why events crumble
why people act and react.
we just want to know why
the earth spins
keeping us tethered to the ground.
i like to know things
what makes them tick
watch people and their subtle movements
but i've come to a point
where knowing why doesn't matter.
with certain un-foldings
i stop the gears before they start
because i know
whatever conclusion
out of the infinite scenarios i run
is most likely wrong.
i've chosen to conserve my energy
and became a fan of the phrase "shit happens".

Jun 22, 2011

six minute poem

a flurry of thoughts and nothingnesss
floods my head.
only a few words make it through the process.
i tick down the time
to force the reason of the work stoppage.
the television distracts me again
but it's turned into more lines of code.
not the best not the worst
i keeps the fingers moving
in order for the gears to stay oiled.
three minutes later
i am half way done
so i slow poke to the finish line
or better yet
i stop and let the finish line come to me.
i've abused the philosophy
work smarter not harder.
i won't tell if you won't.

Jun 20, 2011

talk the talk, walk the walk

i snatch the words
out of the air
stretch them bend them
flatten them
until they fit the groves of my feet.

blue green

Jun 17, 2011


the words don't want to leave
they've burrowed in my head
an inch from the surface.
i have no detection
they sit
hiding in plain sight.
i am unable to dig them up
so i wait
for the wind to blow the top soil.

Jun 15, 2011


at one point
it has entered your mind
spun wheels
because it is the easy way
to seek rest peace.
we are not built for easy.
in order to laugh
experience joy and pleasure
pain and hardship must tag along.
i hate that aspect of life
but understand it.
i've sat in a car
contemplated to end existence
to escape this world by my hands
but i love the game too much
i love the pleasure pain of humanity
i love the creativity of man
the possibilities and adventures it brings.
i'm too curious to leave prematurely
so i will wait
for it to claim me
then i can rest peacefully in the stars
but until that day
i will fight love and grow.

Jun 13, 2011

winter beef

broken pages lay in a hospital bed
whispering to author,
he is next on my list.
i sharpen bic knives
on the bodies of dead poets.
my serial days are in flight,
any word uttered
any letter pushed to pad
any thought materialized in a poet’s head
i’m hunting
author’s who dare to write.
i murdered fourteen letters of the alphabet
so the remaining
only spell my name.
i eat evidence
and lie to scribes.
one poet gets slick
speaks in mixed tongues,
i bite it off
tear up the dictionary,
disassemble its structure
and drown poets
in an inch of water.


Jun 10, 2011

skin on skin

under the moon
beasts ran rampant
during the witching hour.
her flesh was on display
bathed in the accelerant.
he connected fingers
and let them be his eyes.
the night was for the young.
old men watched the festival
reminisce on yester year
smiled and winced
at the world they created.
the youth know this to be true
somewhere down
the line of sight is lost.
the one with the shattered hand
decided to walk
take stock of his surroundings.
he limped through the ravine
watched the lighting bugs dance
waited for an imaginary street light to flicker on.
he thought all things in life are odd
remembered what her skin felt like
how smooth it was
as the foam engulfed them.
he stood there stuck in time
as the moon kept light on his path to follow.

my own quiet

to myself i talk 
questions and comments are hurled
i don't respond
play into the stitches
sewn through lips
ignoring me
seems to be the answer
for the short term
because i care not to hear the truth.

Jun 5, 2011


i sit
wait patiently
stare at the keyboard
tap my brain
listen to the echo
to see what bounces back.
nothing happens.
i sit back
watch tv
turn the brain off
drift into the abyss.
a spark sets off a chain reaction.

Jun 3, 2011


the first word to pop into my head
sounds elegant
friends with
liquid potato
tells death's cousin to work her magic.
mysteries play on the not so silver screen.
above my head
an animal scurries across the room
it's a new familiar sound
the ingredients of a recent addition
but in a few i will flee to the unknown.
another train runs through the tunnel
and i watch the lines and length.
i'll pump junk on the corner
until the diamonds shine
i hold a baker's dozen in pocket
recite verses of a past life
but those believe it was just a dream
or is it me who tells me so.
i care not for punctuation

Jun 2, 2011


a high price is paid
sometimes without notice.
the realization of life
and what it means
circles the sky
keeping a watchful eye.
at its core
it tells us to keep quiet
and to walk the walk
but we don't listen
and talk above the faint message.
caught in the shining light
the message glides the earth
for those listening
it says:
     your choice,
     suppress the inner child
     or to listen to it's rants.