3/20/20

Blonde on blue


blonde on blue
my luminescence
my immaculate
uncommon cause of hell

how is that
not beautiful,
the untouched
the honey pulp

in your empty hand
I fall released,
how is that
not beautiful

blonde on blue
the feathered wisps
the stream in the cove
my awaiting







1/20/20

around the corner in America



and rounding the corner
we came upon
an old fist clenching
a new gun

his mouth ripe with
ignorant vulgarities
fresh from the
morning news feed

in somewhat of a
neutral stance he
shook, intending to be
a threat, a protector

and she behind him
still stirring the oatmeal
negating his hollers
with a “Shut up ya Ol’ fool!”

Momma told us not to run
but we did walk a bit faster
and we whispered jokes
about his dirty pants

the light was red
at avenue I and 17th,
two cars with thumping music
rev’d their engines

the Ol’ man retreated
his fist hidden to his waist
mumbling about a time when
most of the street’s gravel
was still white


11/9/19

Holy shit I’m 50... fuck 50! (not a poetry post)


My photo, age 50

My photo, age 50


This is just a post to celebrate myself, 50 years on this spinning hell-stone, self-rescued from a lot of life’s bullshit, some of it self-inflicted, some of it on purpose, some of it out of my control... but I’m proud of myself for keeping in shape, trying to eat healthy most of the time, raising 2 of the best children a father could ever ask for and overcoming alcoholism, fits of depression, divorce, foreclosure and bankruptcy... for the most part I am at peace and comfortable with life... I need to write more... I need to become a recluse and fight to find better poetry... I need a love that understands and allows my personality... I need to make it to 60 - and then we’ll see...







11/2/19

this cut of land


gray lines have yet to form
surface smooth as river rock
sun upon this cut of land
sky immune to the killing-clock

early feast, the sweetest dew
silence moves in secrecy
partaken flower, wanton tongue
and entrances to lunacy

remember when the ambered boasts
huddled in a dream forlorn
taste again the need to begin
springtime seed with hunger born

save these best, these innocent
thrills of eyes, this priming vice
where guilty hands have yet to touch
true beauty thrives with tempered fright

9/29/19

As I take into you


Unnerving
Impulsive
To stimulate the preoccupied
into moving in new directions

Imperfect lust
I never know your
infantile ambition
Your silly stumbling

There she is
as she was and will be
and I wear the armor
that protects and hinders

Unlock the music
The songs that must play
as I take into you
Subtle
Unobtrusive




6/13/19

( thoughts on being an introvert )


the hardest part
is trying to find a balance

wanting to be alone
just maddens those around me

its a simple thing
to have solitude be contentment

and give them not the song
nor the slightest tune in humming





6/10/19

love and loneliness



coffee by the window 
contemplating love and
loneliness,
how do I fit 
in a hand that wants to
hold 
what won’t be held

love is the snow
cold dead and beautiful
loneliness, the fire
pure warm and destroying

what stirs the seed
in the fallow soils of heart,
what breaks these eyes
of their far-off blissful staring









6/8/19

Finish room



Sipping melancholy thru a clouded straw

I cant right the ship,
I hope you know how to swim

You
Standing there,
Enough to make the world shake
... I never felt the change

What evils now
undo themselves,
the creaking door
the sliding chain

She lets me in at night,
She has no sin
so I give her mine

this is the Finish Room

I know my bullet waits for me


5/4/19


5/3/19


4/27/19


4/26/19


4/23/19

the animals



domesticate the animals 
these people will eat you
(everything is an illusion)

sounds from a room
sex or death
coming or going,
I nail the door shut
the stench is overwhelming
(the kids shouldn’t see this)

you and your soft porn eyes,
my celestial high
my overground

what will I do without you
when the fears reawaken,
without your touch,
without the promise of everafter

(Of Sex and Death Art Print by mjtillustration)

4/22/19

A beautiful man
falls limp
in the sun
radiation of
a beautiful woman

(Image from www.mcadjessica.com)

4/20/19

And the touch of her hand
even though it was a mistake
was a thrill-full grace 
from heaven

4/17/19

Unfinished around her


body as a writhing mime 
I am unfinished around her
eyes blind and hands are seers
elevated “kiss” translates to “fuck”
stream of blood the flow of soul 
live from the cut as she licks it up
morph from ordinary lovely flower
to strange hideous fire
and writhing mime

4/16/19


4/15/19

I write for you
because I will never have you
So this is everything
and nothing at all

beginnings are here
endings are here
where I bloom
radiate
decay

I can not touch
but I write the word... touch
and feel every part of you
rough to smooth

welcomed torture
wishing for an hour
of holding you

happiness, no
instead

another poem
and a lifetime

of suffering



4/14/19

Sometimes Love


Sometimes love is a cautious character
playing her first part in a play

Sometimes sitting on a well-worn bench
in a park
watching the leaves blow by

Sometimes love floats around like a secret
Each whisper tells it in a different way

Sometimes there are no words for love at all
Just a smile from a beautiful woman


4/12/19

The Dog-Rose And The Parma Violet



Outside my window
the second-story tree and the sounds of the city
( blackbirds & dumptrucks )

A child like a butterfly fluttering in the breeze
dances in the grass,
Her soul like a fire willfully contained
and then set free,
I remember that energy as if it were my own;
She laughs
and her laughter becomes a part of me,
She smiles
and suddenly I feel myself smiling,
She tosses her hair back and leans towards a flower...
   Whom do you love or lust for this hour?
   I know you have wilderness inside that silence
   Come out and show me,
   In all of your brilliance!
   Trust in your fears
   and you will surprise them,
   I know you have it in you
   Your disguises are beautiful.

Outside my window a storm approaching,
Its' chill-gray shadow devouring the land;
A child from a flower raises her head,
Looks up while wiping loose hair from her face.
I saw her shine - it was fading away,
The same way a love-song will slip out of memory
when love is abused;
I remember'd it once
and ran like a child afraid of the pain.

She laughs like a thief before the theft,
A child as only a child can be in the rain
... How it feels to be naked!
She twitches the first few times her skin is struck,
She laughs at the way it tickles,
She feels more freedom in this than when the sunshine
hugs her skin with warmth.
    A raindrop's a funny thing   she says,
    It'll find the places noone has found.
Outside my window an image of you
drops like a rainbow from cloud to ground.

I sit back and wonder what your smile would look like
if my pen were a paintbrush
and this paper were canvas,
Such beauty is often the simplest thing
like a smile makes a woman
or a word makes a poem.

... I love you ...

Not the way a man would hold you
and touch you and kiss you
and tell you that he loves you,
Such a man would whisper his love to the deaf
or promise his heart to a concubine;
Rather I love you as I love the child
who leans towards a flower and laughs in the rain...
Love can be felt so many different ways;
I think of you

again

I love you!