Category: Poetry

The song I heard from the car radio.  I had no idea who sung it but that voice carried me to the next stop sign and I waited. I thought about one million recycled things I had lost interest in, struggling to find a way to personal victory. A new song started and I knew

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If you hide behind your words, I will hide behind mine. It’s plain and simple. It’s called tit for tat. If you want to compare wrongdoings, I will cite my sources well. It’s not difficult to read. I’ll hold it closer to your glasses if you need help. If you want to claim authority, I

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I saw that flag being held. I’ve seen it on trucks. I’ve seen it on T-shirts. I know what it stands for and what it means. I know all of those things because I have to know. I’m on the other side. The good side to most. The bad side to more than a few.

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I said to myself those words. It’s the same phrase I repeated. “What a dumbass.” It reminds me how it changed me. How low they have become and immersed in self-pity. These people I didn’t care about a year ago, I pay attention to these mannequins. “Are they really saying that?” No, they can’t be.

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Count to ten. Let’s begin again. Never mind, we can’t, the time has already passed. The march was clear as the day began. Breeding violence with words and action. Clamping down on all kinds of numbers. Those who breach can’t reverse the high. The impact was severe. The damage was done. Count to one, let’s

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You’re proud of yourself. Holding your head high. The space underneath you invisible to your shoes. The next step you take. Ask yourself when the image fades. The same song will repeat the next hour. You’re holding onto the day too tight. When the shapes dissolve, never to come back, you will hear that sound.

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Lightning rods on your head. I see them glowing in the darkness. Before your majesty, I stand very still. Speak to me in facts not riddles. Your voice of reason announcing itself. Tell me I made the right decision, that I escaped traveling down the wrong road. Raise your hand higher than the sun. Create

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I look to you not as a hero. I interact with you to find the answer. I am not of your blood, not even close.   I most resemble the blood of your enemy.   You began as a baby in December. You cried in the year of 1884. The other 11 months you fought

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I often sit. I often wonder. I think about people who have died. Those I will never meet: Jimmy Hendrix, Frank Capra, Aristotle, Genghis Khan, and Spartacus. The list goes on: Queen Elizabeth I, Claude Monet, Edgar Allan Poe, Shakespeare, and Sylvia Plath. The ones with mythical tones: Big Foot, Unicorns, Loch Ness Monster, Centaurs,

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I will not be remembered by many, but Americans will remember that day. The day we came to that place we are now.  In a hundred more years, adults will read about the missteps. How we became a nation of overeaters.  How grilled cheese became comfort food. We knew being on the political fringes was

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Green with envy, I put you there, to defrost and drink you later. I do other things, gobble my time, chomp away. Night falls and it’s morning again, unaware I left you there. I begin my day, hammer away, the weight of my life disappears. Orange with no emergency, I go outside, check on the

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It would be better to hit me over the head with a wooden board or something hard because, at least, that would make sense. This constant aggravation around has left me without any kind of satisfying circle. It’s the sound I hear when I close my eyes even though it’s no longer there, and leaves

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