Simple Flora

Ancient art

Flowers for the words

Flowered words laid to rest

Poetry is suffering

Loose soil in my hands


Black absorbing red

Fingernails split

Worn til nothing’s left

I wonder where it leads, never looking up from the depths

I test them, discovering

Becoming roots

Consuming death

Head full of seeds, scattered to earth

Simple flora

Flowering words

Réflexion du Mal

Over seven thousand days of putting pen to page

Started writing around nine

Poetry, my shame

For years I tried to hide

I found Baudelaire at twelve

Silent friend of a silent creature

Silver mirror in that hell

Obscured by shadow

Saw my reflection in the eyes

Indifference, anger, lust, avarice

Each cresting like waves, then placid for a while

Moments holding to the quiet

Reflecting on the beauty of the chaos and the violence

More years dwelling in perpetual dusk


Silhouette I’ve become

Changes Unseen

I’ve been a false idol

Cult like allure


My time for their world

Those strange days of youth

Weak in the flesh

Words put to good use

The bond, quick to form

Letters to soothe

Patience to break the storm

Tore out my heart along the way

Realized what I’d become, never noticing the change

Oceans of bitter tears at the parting

I let it go to static

White noise and callous nothing

Alone now, on in years

Thought things were better off this way

No one left to hurt, nothing left to fear

No one to lead on, dreaming dreams of what can’t be

The dead end string of broken hearts, ending here with me

To sleep.

Ether from the cracks, spilling forth languidly

Lingering on the air, on the clothes, in the hair

No scent, sweet or sickly, but invisible

Visually nondescript

No taste, no sensation as it creeps across your skin

Spinning world, short of breath and out of balance

Laid low by the spirits

Invading lungs in silence


Pick me up

Put me down

Put me out again

I’m familiar with the deal

I know I’ll yield the shorter end

Send me up the river, adrift without a paddle

Leave me with the burden

With the weight, I am saddled

Run me aground and leave me there in pieces

It’s only hurt

Of late, I hardly feel it

So dulled is the world

Senses spent against the waves and rocks to which I’m hurled

Lying In Darkness…. In Wait

I rise from forgotten places, somewhere in the dark

Body wasted, broken

Expression cold and stark

Bad omens mark my coming

Neither bird, nor beast, nor fellow man can hide their fearing of me

I’m all teeth and quiet malice

To run is a great fallacy

I thirst for the challenge

Just as I thirst for blood

No sudden movements, or life will come undone

The Candidate

You’ve got your job in government

I hope you’re gonna make a mint

‘Cause every penny ends up spent in court

Endless rounds of litigation

Legalese procrastination

All the while your savings waste away

By the time you pay your dues, to poverty you’ll be reduced

There’s no use, can’t quit while you’re ahead

Your bread and butter was from others

Now just another guy in the soup line

Similar Structure

Thought inspires

When I tire, my mind carries on

I could write of anything

I often think in song

Rhyme is just a simple tool

I use it to retain

Then from time to time I let it spill onto the page

Wave after wave, residual of mist

Accumulating endlessly

The ink begins to drip

Sifting through the thoughts

Strung up in a frame

Slave to simple structure

Similarity, innate