Category Archives: Poetry

A Life of Allusion

Living a life of allusion
references to things no one understands

bluntly told I'm odd
but mostly pushed away with an extended hand

a ghost writer
for an audience of nil

The Bishop asked
I practice it day in and day out

Only upon my death will his question be answered
too late for me to know

I quit the race long ago
at the curb as though
I belong with Ratso

Rats don't care
so there! :P

Visions on the beach
yellow jacket
and a buried Caddy

I can do whatever
freedom stymies

Like Lenny, when I'm on, I'm on

Holed up
like a caged bird
with the door open


O. say can you see
flag burning liberty
plaids with stripes
offense ignites

Identify he, she and they
defund the police they say
filibuster Green Eggs & Ham
Love you, Uncle Sam I am.

I herald your open carry
with whom you decide to marry
Revere your right to be offended
faggot, nigger, cunt protended

The Boy Who Had No Dreams

The boy who had no dreams
stumbled around searching for what he was told he should have
felt insecure
like he wasn't in on what others knew

eventually gave up
pondered options
dropping out

began doing something
and enjoying

when he died, his friends and family mourned 
stating how he lived such a rich and happy life
"That's my dream," they said

And they lived happily ever after

I'm your voyeur
peeking in secretly
longing for your touch
a grown man thinking of your youth
your innocence
your love

the sound of your giggle
the sight of your penmanship
Bonnie, Aaron, Simply Red
the soundtrack of the time

silky brown hair
your confidence
your essence, a magnet

poles turn
shot from the synapse to the abyss

my fantasy self wants 
to reject you upon your return
just like it was '91

my heart protests
showing its corner
lifted to reveal you
tenderly protected

Love Preserved

You so want revenge
hurt her like she hurt you

After all these years
you still envision
her crawling back
begging forgiveness
appealing to your nobility

You want that
relish in your glory

You have written
the ending
scorning her
mic drop!

your heart's scar
knows better

I'm here to remind you
in '91
when I was created
amid your heartbreak
you lifted my corner
and tucked your love
for her  beneath

I keep Tuppence

It's okay
I am calloused over
love preserved

The local public library has a poetry group I am part of. I missed July’s session as I was out of town. We were actually assigned homework, the first ever since I’ve been involved.

Write a list of scars/piercings/tattoos/injuries/emotional scars count

Write a poem in the voice of one of the above
a. having a conversation about you
b. having a conversation with you speaking about . . . 

The above is my offering.

Here I Am

Here I am
In your restaurant
same table
time after time

Here I am
at your townhall
same seat 
month after month

Here I am
at your butcher
same beef order
week after week

Here I am
at your church
same pew
mass after mass

I am at your 
baseball field
game store


Not a hand outstretched
an invitation
nor a pat on the back

I am a seat filler
to your life's movie
the background
of your ego

Here I am
writing alone
in silence
because no one 
knows I am here

If I Were in Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world
there would be no more beets
or lines to wait in

There would be no "other people's laundry" to do
or clogged toilets

If I were in charge of the world
there would be no more lesson plans to write
or phone calls to parents to make

Technology would not become obsolete
time would be fluid

There would be no trash to be seen
or things to clean

If I were in charge of the world
shoes would be optional
and socks nonexistent

If I were in charge of the world
personal liberty would be on a pedestal

inspired by Judith Voirst


She wasn't the brightest one
in the room that day

Oh, Mom

No, Tennessee does not
border Florida

The joy of besting the matriarch
along with the promise
of selecting the evening's movie
embossed the Cheshire's grin
on my mug

Charlottesville had but one
theater with two screens
a dilemma for me as I
entered adulthood

Do you take Mom to the
teenage boy's wet dream
or have her barraged with F bombs?

Porky's or Richard Pryor Live on Sunset Strip?

We were wordsmiths
the disctionary had its own seat at the dinner table
The T&A could wait
We'll conjugate fuck tonight

Forty years later my mother
still introduces me as her boy
who took her to see that vile man

The either-or
The lesser of two evils
was just a boy's view of 
the situation

A man would have
suggested sitting about, chatting with Mom,
and playing cards

There's always another option