The mourning Day breaks into little pieces Of repetition Swept away for every action dismissed And being done for a reason. Love? Unsuitable Would multiply headaches Would quantify Put the emphasis on gestures missed Leaving the weight of a legacy on every moment It was an opportunity to witness beauty Witness life, in any instance…

Nothing feels good about it I knew where I was supposed to be Is this what every April brings? Went on without me, didn’t need to give the cue Summer’s dawn has consequences All must fall to start anew But summer ends Again, like the last time This is the cycle we’re stuck in? Hushed…

Prepares for the impact Every morning, he prepares Falling away Hard time deciding whether he should A- enjoy the levity Or B – get ready for the rock bottom of it all Pain, is a feeling he cannot get use to Knows it, has been its pupil Wants to learn something else, for a change…

Heat, sometimes Head pulsates the heartbeat Heavy, in other moments The thoughts are not intangible Anchored – I feel them My clock is realistic, runs in cycles And dawns only come once a day The effects, not lasting But the moment, was right That’s hope That it will come each day Once

Can we not wean ourselves Of these avenues of trivial pursuit? Measuring the miles to work With occasional variations, stops Along the way on different days. The parking lot to the building Is five minutes. Minutia to keep The mind in its rat maze. The workmen building the addition To a house I pass each…

What of forgetfulness have you chosen to forget to lose yourself in the ever ensuing present tense of silence sewing your thoughts in fleeting ambience as night approaches finally quieting the mini-mall & its lights, candy with no value to you or anyone breathing air

I’ve been in waterfalls Ones that cascade till lids fall dormant The rules of the escape Heard of words that speak beautiful Like reciting illustrations of mr. magnificent Will no longer stick Believe that freedom is foreign to many That’s why the cocoon stays Blazes it’s glory to spite its own destiny Witnessed this life…

We long to hear the pastel touches hidden In vernacular black that Crest upon our changing shore. Our relationship has peaked and no bombast, Cymbal-riding discourse will alleviate This disquieting soundscape. The storm outside gusts in torrents that Color the shadings of tea cup and saucer. Lights swing with celestial rhythm. The sighs and creaks…

Tucked away on many urban corners An array of patrons ranging from newlyweds to mourners Where draft beer flows with refreshing ales From the darkest lagers to the blondest pales You just popped in to quench your thirst But your self composure must have been cursed For there you remained until the very last call…

Limping gamblers sporting fanny packs Aching to beat the odds against the dealer’s stacks Smoke from Marlboros, Camels and Salem Lights Very red eyes and very long nights Exotic dancers and Chippendales Go-go Girls with glitter nails All the cab drivers are from kingdoms so very far far away So if it happens in Vegas……