Wednesday, December 28, 2011


of a feeling,
one that does not fade
but evolves with me.

In five years time
you were supposed to have realised
that 'I was the one
you wanted to be with'
in that five years time
I was supposed to tell you to fuck off,
I'm not waiting.

I said it
I cut that cord, indeed..

but the cord feels more like a
vine growing
into and onto itself.

of a feeling...

I am ashamed in many ways
that your big white elephant
has become my shadow,
and ponder over the last time-
Admitting my fight
to win you was a force driving us
300 miles into a tree.

I didn't know any other way.

Admitting that nearly killed me
(and no that is not an exaggeration)
Admitting somehow that I want you
to read all of it
and be moved by it
to perhaps yeild
and give me closure.

In five years time
I was supposed to, but
I only know the feeling.

You win.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Incapable of Being Friends

To know
to exist with
and to understand
one another
has penetrated so deep
that the bonds of friendship cannot contain it

All of the apologies
that one can create

All of the excuses
that one can fabricate
will never surmount
to to the impact

That felt this

A melody
A memory
distorted with time
only accessible by
what is chosen to put on display
Is the contact now
that is shared

as much as possible

friendship is inconceivable

Late beers
with the pretties surrounding this night
for now
they will do.

For now
don't think of you.

Satisfaction is becoming more

It's all tumbled into one thing
the feeling


That feeling (losing) is not yours to



still linger.

You grow.

Wanting to know
who you have become

wondering if it is capable to love.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Letter to the Scientist

With all due respect,

It is

to see how
for your work
was the most effective method.

Because after careful research compelled
letters and numbers
to join into an
over the counter conversation
inquiring about the exchange,
led to

a question of sincere intrigue
responding with misinterpretations,

hypothesizes and theories
unresolved and undetermined

unstable equations

and abnormal behaviors...

there is little
to fill in the

        questions left unanswered
It is speculated that,
lack of interest
was the reason for your leaving
the investigation.

The conclusions that
you came to concerning the matter
alone, without any input
will never be found out.

The results, however
have been quite clear.

Apologizes for not having written sooner.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Evolving Cognizance

Do you remember
before you arrived...

and consented
to be tied
bounded and

the truths
you lived and
understood with
action of existence?

Did you forget them
in the black cell
you push and shuffle
pull and hustle
calling... calling... calling...

Now is here
where you take
empty things
make you feel
muddy sticks
humming for space

but you're smiling when
you shed them
and remember
open midnight
swimming waters
simple stars
simple wisdom

you are free
where you have
no things
and are content
until the dawn
the binds
the black cell
calling... calling... calling...

Laughing in a suspended moment
before the sun sings
embracing the
final moments before
calling... calling... calling...

There was a truth.
There was living.

Monday, November 28, 2011


I do not own
nor do I
any explanations

take it
leave it

I am my own

I have,
showing possession
I will not always,
but for now
I have:

a body
a mind
what I like to call
I am not just my body-
it was given to me.
I do not control how
it looks
or is perceived.
Like a plant,
I try to take care of it
and help it grow

I am not only mind-
although it sometimes feels
it has me when
I am alone with it.
In practice,
I have control over it.
I try to feed it
and fantastic sustenance.

I am more than my feelings-
I have no control over their outbursts
flaring up
and I have to fight them,
tell them that they have no
over me.

I own myself.

Not you
not your body
not your actions
not your decisions.

But for all
that I do not, could not
ever wish 
to own
I would like to love 
just the same
as I do my own.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

You Caught Me Dreaming

The panic button pushed 3:45 am
as myself was laughing at the quarter- life crisis
that revolved above the bed

In that moment
we were writing about how comical
it is in retrospect
that we even worried about now.

The jarring reminder of heart palpitations
shallow breath
and other symptoms of
in the vessel of bone and flesh
finally found us
hidden in those crevices
that science has yet to discover
between the
brain and soul

which reset us back to this morning.

4:07 am
between sheets and sweat
Myself is laughing at this all-too familiar scene
where Body Remembers stress
which tries to take us hostage.

It breaks in through the door
and chases us
with the reoccurring red car accident, where the breaks do not work and
we always hit the telephone pole
with the magic rug rolling, where the man always lures us in
with my temptations
with the poison that the government distributed through the water
and turned everyone into zombies

Myself is laughing
at Remembering for
creating these games and fantasies
which trigger Body to alarm
over all of the mundane sets
that for this moment we consent to.

The bed is a battlefield
the twisted blankets,
the war
And in the morning, we are wondering
who it was that won ?

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Creative Process

I sat
to capture
the flow of a voice
the caboose of a thought
a shade of uncomforbility
pale or flush

I got
to chase it around the room
stumbling over
bedposts and pens
as its mocking bird
evaded grasps

So I scribbled
the fists full of empty
and put together
a quilt with
the only fragments and letters I knew of,

Wishing that in their place
was the line
the word
the sound that heard
them all home leaking
tiny droplets of oceans.

The Perfect Storm
Black holes
worm holes
mole holes are all constructed
because their creators do not see
if their impact will cause mountains.
It does not envision a masterpiece
for all its creations.

It just is
it is in its nature
it is compelled
as I am too...

So here I fall
into that conundrum
whether I could or if I should
whether to strike a match of your
interest or
capture against its will,
a free moment

or if
you would just blank nod, apathetically smile, and
try to silence
the crickets playing a symphony in your head.

Because if all I create are symphonic insects,
isn't that beautiful enough?

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


The silence is what kills me

The questioning

The if's

those spaces
which I held


for your interjection
never coming
never saying
never singing

Did I hear the fire?
Did I see the beat?
Did you ever wonder
what the sound of one side
when it aches
for understanding?

When it reached for a light

a laugh

a touch

Throwing out lines
angry nets
gathering whatever much
they can

Placing together
pieces that
don't fit

desperately trying to
fix the cracks

fill the gaps
and hold onto any
meaning that was worth

A word
A smile
An embrace
An acknowledgement of
A converation
A mountaintop kiss
in the sleepy silence of moon lit fireflies ?

I crash there
in your blue
(at least I think they are
blue) oceans of skeyes

The silence
is what kills

The silence
is screaming

The lack of

The absence of

of understanding

Verbose longing
the pangs
of a fire
of a beat
of smashed sea shells
crashing into meaningless significance

My mouth is bitter weeds
My mouth wants to sing you honey

Oh why
                                  -Were the sentiments one sided?
were they not enough?

Oh words
where are you?

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Impermanence of Memory

I miss
I am missing
Your absence has
a presence
that is felt
And the spades
of digging
are the cards it dealt.
I miss
I am missing
Something that
was in place
Something that
I had made space
for and has left
imprints to trace.
You I am
I am missing
a melody
in my mind
replays and distorts
over time
barely recognizable
I  m mis in
I mis y u
I hope you do not
Like memories often do.

Saturday, September 24, 2011


and bitterer
the taste left lingering
and harder
the callous grew accumulating
and colder
the emotions numbed feeling
and flatter
the question of significant meaning

Broken Bottles

They're breaking bottles in the streets
and shouting out their profanities as if they were words for some kind of proclamation
 there are gangs wandering
in a drunken stupor with a repressed, angry primitiveness long since remembered
they are more evolved than that
unless the bottle makes it socially 'acceptable'

they're breaking bottles in the streets
asking you if you want to know what a 'real jersey boy is like'
as if you contested or confronted that identity
mocking the television screens
and you're avoiding the sidewalks
running though people's yards
weaving in and out of bushes
which seems to confuse the hostile youth masses
as you think to yourself
'with beer goggles, I make a great ninja, and
what exactly is a "real" jersey boy?'

Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you the future leaders of America!

they're breaking bottles in the streets
cursing  each others names
spitting in your direction
soliciting sex through rage

they're breaking bottles in the streets
and when the men come
to pick up the shards of broken hearts
and inhibitions
they are made a mockery of
while jokes are passed around about how
they need to get a 'real job'

They're breaking bottles in the streets
are you dancing with them?
They're breaking bottles in the streets
are you picking up the glass?
They're breaking bottles in the streets

Wednesday, September 14, 2011


What ever happened to that?
That story, the one
you projected
the one you called a dream
That story
your life?

Have you forgotten it,
little one?
Have you been tortured
and blinded
bound and binded?
Have you been washed,
bleached and diluted?
Mixed up with
the daily shuffle?
Lost in the masses
Losing faith in your advances?

Have you forgotten,
my beautiful one?
You still have you.
That was never lost.
You still have
what it is you came and sought.
That story
that dream
that song that you sing...
You have life!
You have a day
an whether it be cloudy and gray
cold as a winter's night
whether it be rainy, sunny,
hot and bright
take it.

It's still yours.
No one else's.
You have you life
you have your day
you have your story
and you have you.
So be it.

No one else will do it for you.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Waves and the Sand

Waves and the sand
Some are cool and refreshing
Ironing out all of the wrinkles
Smoothing the shore
In perfect harmony, the waves caress

Waves and the sand
Some are frigid and biting
Violently beating up
Against the shore
With aggressive force, the waves crash

My waves could not break the sand.
They did not want to.
They could not hold it.
They did not want to.
My waves carried glass and shells
My waves carried gifts
My waves wanted to lift
My waves wanted to ride
Play and tumble
Falling waves caught by the sand
They did not want to make it crumble.

Waves and the sand
Some are quiet and placid
In silent admiration
By the shore
Lit by moonlight, the waves wait.

Saturday, August 13, 2011


For as long as I can remember
My whole life
Has been a struggle.
Nothing was given
or came easy.
I had to fight.
I learned to survive.
And I saw life as not living
For enjoyment
But as something that was

Love was a condition
Which felt more like a symptom-
Of some sick and twisted
Mental disease.
Crisis was normal-
I grew like the roots
Of the bonsai tree.
Stability unknown
The boat forever rocking

My balance was found in that
Tumultuous turbulence
Tearing and tugging
Down deeper
Where my thoughts
And feelings
Were locked up
And blocked up
Until now.

My life
Is by no means easy,
But in the past few moments
It has become more steady.
I worked hard
And have learned
That I have earned this environment of

But inside I still feel
Calming blues blasted with
My boat on placid waters
still rocks like the dark stormy seas.
I dizzy
I tangle
I crash
I mangle
And move in the motion of the bonsai trees.

Although I may be
a little crazy
an odd character
I am not done growing
I know very little.

Inner peace will exist.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Thoughts on Love, Life or Just a Better You

These are areas that sometimes I need a little maintenance with, which are followed by some philosophies I have been developing along the way to help:

1. Attitude-
This is completely up for you to decide how you want to project it. You choose it; no one else gives you one. Use it wisely, because if you get used to having a bad one, then your personality may suffer the consequences.

2. Humor-
Try to do the whole "adult thing" but not take life too seriously. Humor can aid in this process. Laughing can relieve stress, improve your mood, and has many other benefits.  If you are able to laugh during tough times, then you are doing yourself a favor by lightening the load and not letting it get the best of you.

3. Intention-
Whatever it is that you do, try to apply some kind of purpose behind it.  Motivation and intention behind action can be very powerful and effective.  With intentions our lives feel less empty.

4. Love-
Loving a partner- Love freely. Don't try to force it or hold on too tight. Remember love should be improving you and those involved.
Loving friends- Like a garden, sometimes it needs some work. However, whatever you put in, you will get out exponentially.
Self love- this is the most important one out of the three. This is the foundation for all love. Build it sturdy, get in and hold on. Allow yourself to have the experience.

5. Forgiveness-
When you forget to forgive you often hold a grudge, which ultimately impedes self growth.  Instead of being unforgiving, you should try putting yourself in the other person's shoes and understanding how you could be capable of doing the same things. You should also try communicating your feelings about the matter and confront the larger problem at hand. When an issue is truly resolved and you are able to forgive, you become a stronger person.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Thanks for the Strawberries


Like the first
Strawberries of the season.

You compare a girl
a perfect Stranger
to these ideals of
and pristine.

I do not see
how the ripe and ready fruit
the red and robust berry
can be one of innocence.

I cannot conceive
how these weaved and wicked foods
bulbous and bursting
are those of beauty.

I cannot compare
the clean, the chaste
the spotless or the sparkling
to this sinful fruit. 

Pristine as the juice that runs down and out

Beautiful as the glutton gorging on its insides

Innocent as the red stains on your hands

You think of me not as the tart one...
But are the tart berries not the most
innocent beautiful and pristine
by definition?

The berry who is perceived
to be ready
Who is plucked
before maturation...

The tart and innocent temptress fruit

Are the tinted, ripened and complex
not more delicious?

I sir, am proud to be stained
and ready!

I am tart.
I am sweet.

I am not your perfect berry.
I am the most delicious and disgusting taste
that you will wish never met or left your mouth.

Colored and

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


I am often left wondering
How it was
That They were the ones
Who ended up breaking
Our hearts...

Small Guns

Smart. Sleek. Sexy Silhouette
The Black Venus Vixen
Feel her curves
Both hands caress
Put your finger on her trigger
Take her out of her dress
She packs a punch
This fully automatic
Locked and loaded
pistol whip
Jerks you when you
And fire
Till you’re shooting blanks, cowboy.
She makes you cry crimson
And will leave you hot
in the ear- ringing dust. 

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The Beginning is Near

The beginning is near
Up above the calm May day
I sleep with desire and destruction.
Naive little girls, with their crumpled hearts
Speaking to empty pages
Feeling alone, neglected and rejected
Writing about the point of persisting
While Ego and Id fight
Over who had the right answer.

Genesis soon
Dark night caresses chaos within
I open to understanding
Seven deadly sins once committed daily,
Now remembered self respect and compassion.
Anger, fear, loathing, the confusion
Released to run inside rampant
Only to come to the same conclusion:

I would rather live misunderstanding you than to have not tried all.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Heart Ache

Help help
I am ill.
Of what I’m not sure
And if I knew of any remedy or opportunity for a cure
I would take it.

You see I’ve tried
To seek treatment
And get better alone
But the complications I have acquired
Have only grown
Worse I fear it.

I have bled out my venom
Soothed my rage
Sweating and
Starving my temptations,

I have repented for my crimes
Apologized for sins
Extended peaceful gestures
In hopes that within
I could cure it.

I have waited
And hard
in hopes that Time
Would look kindly on my troubles
And seal these scars
So I could close it.

But the uncontrollable urges
To regress
And live into the conditions
Where I could address
My fatality
has escaped me…

And now that which
I cannot give away
Or hide or disguise
In any way,
Owns me.

Because we are merged
My illness and I
And I beckon for your help
To separate us

The numbing
The hardening
This disease with no cure
Has left me with little strength
Or desire to endure
Another let down
Or a leap of faith
I want to but,
Am afraid to take
For I am stuck in it.

Stop this maddening and pointless disease

Does someone
Have an anecdote?
Or am I done for?
Is this the final note?

If I knew of any remedy or opportunity for a cure
I would take it.
I would take it.
I would take it.

Monday, May 2, 2011


It all started with a little spark
A glare here or
Match sticks struck up conversation.
Flattery and loneliness fed that fire-
Along with the carnal longing of youth.

As luck may have it,
or as you might say,
We breathed and fed-
You were nervous
I was easy
As we joked about truth poured over libations.

There was neither protection nor containers
to hold or control these flames
Boundaries were endless
Where I shed
One by one
And you were fed
In that sun
Warming ourselves in the light

And we breathed
And we fed
And we breathed
And we fed
Dropping without stopping
Uncontrollable ignition
Forgetting and consumed
In the blazing holy night.

The moon
The stars
 engulfed by our fires
Ate and ate and ate
You grew tired
And craved cool waters
But more fire is what I gave for your thirst.

A Hellish Hediness
Smothering with flames
Desirous of more to consume-
But you were dry
And tried to say goodbye-
So then she began to fume.

Delirious with rage
She desperately looked around for more matches
But when she awoke
From the fire and smoke
All that remained were just ashes.

You were just trying to push the heat away


And masses
Of the hot, hot youth
Flock to you,
Are brought to you
Bought. sought and fought to you…
Sold and distributed.

Teeming with the chance
 for diploma-ed opportunity,
engineering humanity
grassroots community
growing vines next to
the manufactured studies of corporate industry

Where the lush is taught
Lessons forgot
On sale for five dollars a bottle.
Hungry, hungry wolves
Thirsty for new blood
Pack into the pubs,
Where sex puts itself on a tray
Dicey Sliced
Served and

You drug of abundance
Of wide eyed, glintering nights
Sleepless and stretching
 for longer than you had bargained.
Of happy hikes and happy trees
wrapped and packaged
slices smoked mysteries
Country slum
Studious cities
Acoustic guitars
Break ins to cars
Riots for sports
Riots for peace.

I am tired
Of the zombie babble
Wandering in front of cars
Ambulances crying
Streets of sirens
Stomach pumping hospitals
I am over
Art elite
The stress of privilege
Cramming to capacity
The cigarette ashes accumulated philosophical conversation pages.

I want you,
To exist like the summer dew
After the exodus of your infection.
You’re a beautiful dichotomy
And any other ten dollar word that can be bought with help of a caffeinated beverage

Streets of musicians
Hallway for the homeless

I love you.
I loathe you.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

H. I? N.

Did I fuck up?
I am not perfect
and I cannot
will not
shall not
be able to
do the
right thing
what is my right
is your left
or down
or up
or in
or out
of my mind
this time
this rhyme
hoping so badly
that I am not blind
to see through it
the bull shit
and able to
toward something
to me
that you
can respect
that you can take
or accept
and not take
which would lead me
whether it was
or was not
the "right" thing
or the left thing
I hope you just saw it
as a thing
and that my aim was true
and my intent was pure
so I will not go
prodding you
pleading for a cure
to the incessant wondering
in the back of my head
hoping for a sign
Reading into nothing
I would like you to know
my purpose was true
not mean to attack
or anger
or threaten you
so I would like to say
or goodbye
I am happy you happened
and at least I tried
and if you want to
you can tell me too
that I fucked up
trust me
if you're honest
I will be cool.

Thursday, January 20, 2011


I wanted to
I tried
to write a poem
about you.
But all I could do was
blank and stare
at an empty page,
the words were not there.
I guess you were just not that important.

Friday, January 14, 2011


Beautiful light
in my life
reflect onto me
reflecting onto you

Illuminating our potentials
warming the clock within

Smile inside
glow deep, beautiful light
embracing me
embracing you.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Walls and Maps

I set up the walls,
I draw the lines.
What a nice little map
we have of our houses.

In there I keep
precious commodities
memories, nostalgias,
moments, oddities...

Where there are doors
which lead to doors
and doors
and door mouses.

Each, locked up so tightly.

If there is a chance
of it opening,
the shadows run and hide
revealing the sliver of truth
in your path.

If you play your cards well
and I give
access to an opening
where contents are not mentioned
in the blueprints or the math.

This confidential material,
you had better protect
and accept.

For, if you abuse it
the game will refuse it
no longer following you
into hidden traps.

But if you infiltrate
and manage to escape
then the house of cards crumbles
splintering light and shadows
of smudged charcoal maps.

Monday, January 3, 2011

While I was Out

While I was out
I found a girl
All a walking
Alone in the world.

She was friended by many,
As the stories foretold
Adorned with an elegance
Even with tattered clothes

Sharp with her tongue
She could catch truth in your lies
So clever and witty
Always a twinkle in her eye

Awe-struck and enamored
I stammered and stared
At this girl out a walking
With beads in her hair

Curiosity got the best of me,
And my heart pushed and shoved
So I asked, quite timidly:
Where are you from?

I come from a place
Of beauty untold
The sky, painted with diamonds
And streets paved with gold
And with her eyes all a sparkling-
The story began to unfold:

There, my people were all happy
Cared for and strong
We danced and sang in harmony
Out such beautiful songs

Life seemed perfect
In every which way
Until came a Stranger
That One Fateful Day

At first we paid no attention
For he seemed too old
Too worn, too tired
But lo and behold!
Held up a half
That we thought was whole
And put with another
To create a new soul

Some were shocked
Others dismayed
And our King, my father
Would soon forbade
This man from the kingdom
From the country
From our realm … for,
Two souls merging was seen as not heaven
But hell.

              So She left all this comfort
And beauty behind
To chose her own path
Destination unknown
For uncharted mountains to climb
To find the piece to make her half whole

She tamed wolves
Battled elephants
Lived with gypsies
Sang with birds
Planted flowers
Reached enlightenment
Fell from grace
And lost her words.

She confronted demons
Slept with dogs
Invaded nests
Talked to trees
Tasted honey
Got stung
Fell for it and
Scraped her knees.

She became a villain
Fought with generals
Lost a cowboy
Played the violin
Remembered herself
Forgave others
And bit the fruit
Of carnal sin.

I listened with wonder
At her marvelous feats
This adventurous woman smiled,
And our eyes did meet
She caught me there
But the twinkle was gone
Replaced by a flare
Of a fire so strong

Unable to move
I had to ask more questions
To find answers to sooth

Did you find the other half
Of what you thought was whole?
Did you find what you needed to create a new soul?

Laughing and sparkling
Eyes blazing with light
She spoke to me: Child
Neither that man, nor my father were right.

I have discovered, to be with another
You can feel alive and new
But if you feel empty alone
Then the other will not do

Neither is completed by the other alone
Both must be whole pieces
Independently grown
Only when you are a fulfilled soul
Can you come to make room for the new half of your whole

So with her wildfire eyes
And beads in her hair,
Her tattered old clothes,
And unmatched flair
I bade her farewell
To travel my own new routes
Finding love and self love
While I was out.