The Race is…

The race is
Going to the store
Seeing different colored cards
Being used by friends
Wanting one so badly
Hating life

The race is
Told by a pretty blonde
She knows her husband is
Bigger, stronger, faster
And better
Despite popular belief
The cause is her effect

The race is
Swearing children don’t imitate
Their atmosphere
Until words are spoken
at the wrong time
wants to blame the school
and sue

The race is
Seeking solace from church
And the Bible
Remembering only what
Is necessary
To shine light
On what is dark

The race is
Voting in a sheet covered
Small box with a drawstring
while choices are made on beliefs
Not righteousness
With all eyes in the back
the print on the page
is overlooked

The race is
known for Right versus Wrong
dying to be a martyr
never waivering

The Turnaround

How do I say, “No”
before I break my own heart?
Do I have to go along
with it all until You tell me,
“It’s not working”?
Or must I lose my fire
because all the matches I had
are now immersed under water?
Would I have relearn how to cry?
Maybe I would stutter
How can I mess up a simple word
that could either strengthen me
or the one thing that could cause me
to crumble before all those who I knew
were laughing at me in my face
while shaking their pathetic heads?
I want to be better
I should be better
I can be better
than what I have here now
There is a world outside of this shell
that wants to know me well
to see me well
to see me do well
and grow along with Me
So, I have to say, “No,”
before I am no longer able to
I gave you a piece of Me
and you can keep it
But I will feed it and make it grow back
fuller, stronger, and more productive
All by myself
until I am able to say, “Yes,”
again without hesitation
without doubt
without grief
without pain
without a You who wants nothing
out of life
I want to feel my heart beating
everywhere like a walking orgasm
because I want
because I desire
to share
and not just give
to someone unwilling to learn
how to love back
I have to be selfish
Now, when I face you,
that “No,” means that I have turned
Myself “On”
On I am
On I will be
Alive, valuable, worthy, and somebody

I want to make a sound

It seems so easy to just exist

Go under the radar

Don’t ruffle the feathers

Do the opposite of Do


What energy

To see something

And voice nothing

Be the air that brushes by


As long as I can move

I can Be

I can Have

I want to Try, at least


To then be seen

Is not quite like being heard

Stating something

By saying nothing is


But, I want to make a sound

To be a wonder

Turning heads become talking heads

And still, they don’t know


I must be Here

Laughed at, congratulated, skewed

Sans figure

And, they want to know


I want them to.

Even if they decide later

That they don’t

Want to.


Through the eyes of a child

Here I Am
Looking and noticing
All that is in my path
What does time change?
Even with repair
Things do wither
Yet, they still change
My younger self
Wishes to grow
While wishing to know
That I will see
The happiness and love
That made me laugh
And glow
And may what or who looks
Out at me, someday 
Pick me up like I cried in hunger
Or writhed in my drench
Shelter me with just a smile 
A while 
To remind me


Longer are becoming

my days without hearing

your voice

Even longer does the

moon shine

Though seeing you

would mean the end is near

Your image entices my soul

within belief

I pray to you

as if…

Dare I wonder

if you make me better

Only my mind can answer that


As the wind blows

and the leaves move

it’s there you are

If you are change

may the spectrum turn

Saved are the little ones

I am supposed to reign over

Dare I wonder

if you make me better

when better serves

as a verb and not an adjective

Then comes the rain

to its anew

But I take some shelter

because I should

as if beckoning me

to then bow down

Dare I wonder

to find your face

to wash me clean

and make me whole

When the sun doesn’t shine

Ain’t no way

I can stay away from you

Longer than a day

That just changes my dream come true


Hearing your voice on the phone

You tell me everything’s fine

I miss your daytime kisses at home

I wish you could do that when the sun doesn’t shine


Even though I know where you are

Being apart tears me apart

You take the moon and stars so far

away I can’t feel my heart


Though I know you’ll be back

You’ve still been gone far too long

It’s sheer ecstasy I lack

When you return to me, you’ll right this wrong


Can’t wait for your return

Cause I’m walking a fine line

It’ll be such a cool burn

To kiss you when the sun doesn’t shine


Today May Be Your Last

Man has a thought

About using the gun he bought

Gotta make a plan

Before he goes down in quicksand


The only end in sight

Is for him to say, Goodnight

Prayer is no use

Now the demon’s loose


Everyone reminds him

Of why he’s too damn slim

But that’s not his only hunger

Gone are the days of being a whoremonger


Unable to flash those pearly whites

It’s like he’s lost all his rights

So tired of getting knocked down

Even has no love for the woman in the wedding gown


Only way to be proud of himself

Is to take every bullet from the shelf

Now here’s the feeling of respect

Heads, faces, don’t forget the neck


Life ain’t fair

When everything’s taken with your hair

Do your best and slack a little

Never has a Man felt so brittle


Time heals no one

In the Final Hour

Like angry video-game fun

Get the rush, Feel the power

Three Hundred Steps to church

path to meditation gardens

Three hundred steps

were the beats to the park

Alas, Meditation Garden

where I could pray

and ask if I could be

as cool as the new butterfly

that sputters such goodness

until it is completely spent

from giving so

And when I’m done

a copy of me comes along

Picking up where I then left off

But the walk back is much longer

Even though I

take the same route

why did I count

Three hundred steps

when I thought I flew to the chapel?


Man’s Own Box

Appearances are everything

Along with that

despite one’s name

shaven better than beard

endowed rather than not

Cold is like hot-headed

Shy is worthless

while quiet means nothing

to live without doing

Who wants that recipe?

Mankind wears a button

of those they know and love

and hate

Still, they are in the know



Lest one tries to produce

Failure is a label

worn after grief

Alas, appearances are everything

when we remind ourselves

that we are so worthy