This Screen

There is something less romantic About the way you read my poems. You hold not the paper I scribbled my soul on But a screen. I write these words on a screen and send it to yours. This screen. These screens connect us, So why do are we so alone? Why is isolation the firsContinue reading “This Screen”

Rambling Depression For Holiday Conversation

What goes up must come down Especially egos. Check the ego, kill the ego. This is what buddha taught. Or is this more gibberish from a mad mind? Is it the lies we tell ourselves that make our opinions? “Don’t talk politics this holiday.” Is the credo of the people Who don’t want you toContinue reading “Rambling Depression For Holiday Conversation”

So Often We Are Told

So often we are told “It’s human nature.” “It’s always been like this.” “There is nothing I can do.” You’ll cringe at a meme but not at these words? Does jaded fear and hopelessness Not shiver the spine of the unhumbled optimist? It does. So often we are told things that are not true. ThereContinue reading “So Often We Are Told”

20 Years In Hell

20 years in hell. 6 months in purgatory. Our was it just 1 month in county jail? Time means nothing when your in shackles Even though it is all they give you. The filth and grime on the bottom of my bare foot replaces any dignity I had. And the cold, do not make meContinue reading “20 Years In Hell”

Conceited Notion

Here we are, Another conceited notion At hope for humanity. Wrapped in delusion And on the other side ignorance. Where heart doesn’t exist there is only stone. No one cares when you break stone, No one should. Stone has no use except for building, Heart brings us family, light, and love. But who cares aboutContinue reading “Conceited Notion”

Writers Block, A Poem

No ideas, but all the motivation. All the reasons to do it yet no reason at all. Like a marathon, hitting a wall. Just spit it out, Put it on the page! Put it on the Page! Forget if it makes sense, forget the grammar and spell checks. Fuck making sense. Just put it onContinue reading “Writers Block, A Poem”

Reading A Book Alone In The Redwood Forrest, a poem

Reading a book alone in the Redwood Forrest On the observational scale, I do sit here in the redwoods in lotus pose, with a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance on a stack of logs next to me. What is the catch? Is that but the paranoid disillusionment of the redneck hippiesContinue reading “Reading A Book Alone In The Redwood Forrest, a poem”

What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? A Poem

What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? PRODUCE! Must produce content! For fame, For a following, Quite literally and painfully so, thanks to the stench of both words. To produce is to manufacture, To manufacture is to produce. The workers are the ones who produce, So the artists, the writers, the creators, we areContinue reading “What Place Do The Artists Have in Revolution? A Poem”