something….

I am a man-child
35 years old –
still not sure what I want
to be

when I
grow
up

I run through the streets
arms flailing wildly
against the hot summer’s day
hands slapping the humidity
away like tears

…and I scream out:

“I’ve got a story in me!”

I’ve got anger…
pain…
something…

I’ve got something more
than even I will ever know.

I’ve got something REAL.

I stuff it
deep inside my left front pocket
– the one where I put the important things –
and I check it
every so often
just to make sure it’s still there

I turn West
over the cracked lines of a city
where history breathes
through the vents
and rises
twisting
turning
around itself until…

it dissipates

and we all stand silent –
everyone –

staring into the sun

– big, round, and yellow –

and it smiles down,
pats us on the head
and whispers:

“None of this matters…
anyway”

monsters: haiku

the monsters – they slip
through tough, sinewy muscle –
burrow into soul

the itch: haiku

lying here itching
like I am on heroin
I hate Vicodin

#donecomplaining #haiku #senryu

lotus: haiku

lotus only bloom
at the apex of summer
sleep through the winter

so much

it can’t be denied
there is so much you in here
it’s overwhelming

swing states

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I used to feel like my vote mattered.

I used to live in that place.

It was a magical place where people swung freely between parties and voted on issues as opposed to reds and blues.

Crips and Bloods.

Today I will vote anyway, knowing full well that my single vote will probably not change the course of this place.

But I will do it anyway.

I will do it because my grandfather, my uncle and my step-father all fought for that right.

Hell, even I did in a way.

We all joined and fought for the same reason.

One word.

Freedom.

And all the beauty that word possesses.

We have the electoral college.

And because of that many people feel their votes won’t count – don’t count.

It is a dangerous place.

That giving up place.

One day we will remove that college – tear it’s walls down and bulldoze the foundations.

That beautiful day.

But today I will vote anyway.

Not because it matters to it, but because it matters to me.

Happy Halloween! (haiku)

This year I dressed up
A good Bobby Singer – or
Trucker, ya’ idgets

Bobby Singer Supernatural Halloween Costume

snails pace (haiku)

everything moves
slowly – at the pace of snails
when the timing’s right

the rise of day

the morning crumbles
between spaced fingers
a fine dust
an uneasy lover
waiting
hoping
needing another word
a touch to make it whole

much like us

you

me

balls of living, breathing matter

pull the dust from the cracks
wet it down
mold it
make it something new –
something better –
something only you will know

cradle it in your arms –
your newborn day –
until it can walk teetering
into the night
where its only destiny

is to die again

and await its rebirth

moth (haiku)

the small, lonely moth
flutters too close to the flame
sets fire to the wind