Me, I walk upon the sands of Coney Island watching the waves in front of me, ebbing and flowing, flowing strong, then ebbing slowly as if in shame, in defeat.
It's a virus being passed around and it causes distorted truths. Air is like water to the deep breath, water like fire for the thirsty and the sun shines darkness to the Earth. Air is like water to the deep breath, water like fire for the thirsty and the sun shines darkness to the Earth. We have been hypnotized. Brainwashed and zombified into walking these streets expecting fresh air and sunshine only to be met by this wet darkness. Empathy is a hashtag and a posted call for prayers.
It's a virus being passed around and it causes distorted truths. Air is like water to the deep breath, water like fire for the thirsty and the sun shines darkness to the Earth. Air is like water to the deep breath, water like fire for the thirsty and the sun shines darkness to the Earth. We have been hypnotized. Brainwashed and zombified into walking these streets expecting fresh air and sunshine only to be met by this wet darkness. Empathy is a hashtag and a posted call for prayers.
A life once grasped so tightly, right hand in the air for the music, left hand clutching another... celebrations and a glass or two of wine. Empty eyes staring with a hint of what? Anger? Confusion? Fear? O the lamentations of the empty bodied survivors as they are fed, changed and put to bed with love and care...the circle of life that no one yearns for…
The population of Los Angeles and Houston - every human being in those two cities - add up to less than 6 million people. Imagine if both of those cities were suddenly swallowed up and each person was killed?
Counter feelings on the battle fields, fighting hand in hand warfare. Blood in the grass and death at my feet. Dreams, desires, hopes and lovers… Last grasp for the chance to live again… To be reborn…
A list of lovers, a litany of excuses. Forgiven each time for the beauty… Below the blood red moon, yellow doors slamming shut and pebbles thrown against the windows of her room.
We walk along beaches when the temperature has fallen and the moon is hanging low. We struggle for answers to the questions we’ll never truly understand or truly know. We howl at the Moon and anyone else who stands in front of us. We pen short poetry because we need to shed some tears. We […]
We once ran up the streets together, baseball gloves and bats in hand. We used to walk together singing the same songs, reading the same books and even loving the same women. We once were like brothers – I can feel your embrace and remember our conversations late into the night. I trusted you implicitly […]
Lost in my over thinking…the curse of the poet who dares to see beyond what others pretend to recognize. To define colors as only their own eyes can define them. To hear the music and read the words better than the composers or the scribblers. The curse of the poet who dares to love way too intensely and yearns for a life others would find unbearable.
“Someone to watch…over…me.” She ends her set with this song, that for her, is a prayer. The applause dies down and she walks backstage. She sits in her dressing room in silence but can hear the crowd laughing in the background. “It must be Joey or Joanie on stage now.” She thinks to herself. That silence though! It overwhelms her and she begins to shake, afraid she will shatter to the ground and disintegrate in a whirl of dust…
When the joke is not funny and it never truly was... When her eyes seemed true and you remember them as blue, but the tears she cried were brown with lies and dirt which fell down. Stained your white shirt and destroyed all sense of trust…