When Three Become None

These faceless self freaks.
They show true when their fields become
crowded. The sword of vengeance, told not
to wield in the name of Godly justice,
raised to the light of false judgment.
Heads roll.
So surreal is this disconnection. Bite-
sized anger management, never enough to
fulfill. Something cut us. We just choose
to bleed apart.
Our fathers share identity. Our
common “hello” foundation.
No late nights of playing games. The last
roll of perception…



I fell off the edge on the world this morning, reaching for the star you wanted me to name. I told you that it’s name was “crown” and some day I would hand it back to the princess from which it fell, but his will is growing faint so I must add myself to the collective. But promise me one thing… one thing my love, cry not. If you must, turn from me. It would feel as if I died over and over for every tear I couldn’t wipe away.

Poetic Intake

Poetic intake like a dove in your hand.
Reaches inside your mouth and catches your
brain. Society has let their minds subside,
afraid to take the ride of a lifetime.
Poetic intake like pearls in the sand.
Reaches inside your mouth and catches your
brain. Symbolic visions tagged with
statement. One sock on both feet or flowers
in concrete.
Poetic intake like steps to a foreign land.
Reaches inside your mouth and catches your
brain. The ability to recite symbolic
thought, and see others melt when they see
what you’ve brought.

Inspiration + Ability = Poetic Intake


As she slept, above the humming of god like machines, her loved ones around her spoke. There were thoughts of laughter, and conversations of hardship. There were talks of final processes after things had met an inner peace. How family and friends would loose the ability of conversation, and forced to recall memories of the calm painting that was her smile. Never have I experienced a situation such as this. Of family speaking finality of someone’s life as they lay before them. My eyes met a small crack on the floor of tile while hearing the grand stories and I got to meet her all over again, and instantly liked her… all over again… and miss her still.

Birds Of Prey

I woke up this morning different then all
the mornings before, as did many Americans.
My chest was heavy, throat dry, but my eyes
remained fixed on one object. Devastation
visited us yesterday and with him brought
grief and brutality. The day of the slicing
through air, the day those birds of prey with
passengers of compassion became the entire
worlds tear.
The streets were once the foundation for
people to walk. Now the foundation is unity,
for people to stand.


-Written about 9/11

Inspired By T.G.

I see you. As I close my good eye, you are wounded from experience and I am the one who bleeds. I wonder if by chance you think of me? There are days where I think someone is calling my name but I look and find no one. Please tell me you have changed your name to no one because this heart I hold in the palm of my hand grows faint as your cries for help increase. God tell me what to do?! Do I hold my heart and send an invitation for help or drop my heart and comfort you? Do I wish upon the stars in your eyes that the vision of my love is you or do I turn my back to your words. You indeed are wounded from experience, but wounds can heal… Can’t they?