Category Archives: Poetry

Dear Dad

Berate me

Negate me

Acknowledge me as insignificant

Love me with disdain


Enjoy your distance as it grows bold

Perfect resistance if you get too close

Dead bolt your soul, I know there’s no getting in


I was born into a contractual obligation

You wrote it on your own

Mom was there to notarize

And I to merely sign


Your sights were set, your choice firmly made

When out of the closet I came

Without a word, your look spoke volumes

And with it came my shame


With all my strength I opened the door, my closet to come out

“I’ve got a faggot for a son” rings in my head, these words I heard you shout


So my role model, my father, the one who’s always right

Where’d I put that razor blade, those pills, that loaded gun

I’ll finally set your world straight


With Love,

Your homosexual son


Smarty Pants

I’m a Bletchley Park super genius

Nobody has cracked my code

My encryption runs deep, measured in fathoms at least

Most difficult to decipher indeed

I am an enigma to all but myself

Yet at times in my mirror… ambiguity prevails

Interpretation of view, futile

Where are you Mr. Turing?  I need your help

Your assistance imperative

My ultra genius survival… uncertain


Three Legged Dog Walk

I have antiquated fractured thoughts, pictures of the past which are, for the most part, horrifying

No existence of redemption possible

Only allowed continued revealing

As horrific as these thoughts are…

I can still love a three legged dog

The fractures heal minimizing weakness, archaic thoughts are dismissed and no longer relevant

And as I walk with my dog I notice we step the same gait

Neither one perfect nor one of them straight

Our legs and paws walk in stride in an imperfect (one hundred sixty two (+/- < .001 fractional variance) degree), perfectly straight line

What a beautiful day for a walk with my three legged dog


Death Chute Me

Death is my parachute to get off this physical plane

I’m jumping out now, the green light says “GO”

It’s a static line so there’s nothing more to do… it’s as easy as one, two buckle my shoe

It’s been a long time now since I first began to fly

Nothing more to fear, I am safe now

No more worry and no more hurt

No more misunderstanding or questioning why

My eyes are closed, my chute open wide

I begin to float

Finally I am able to enjoy this lifes ride


My Sweet Suit

I woke this morning to dress myself… to greet the world my usual way

First I put my old hat on… more holes than not, stinky and torn…  barely held together by  thread that’s now tattered…  I wore it most days many years in a row when my life was in fact shattered

I then got dressed in a slightly worn tee with a saying on the front which I was still able to read.  Red faded print “GOD Loves America” I could make out is what it still read

It has a few holes in it’s fabric and theory but the shirt looks good its wearable all the same even the message doesn’t cause any pain

Nearly done, I am aware of the closing brunch hour…

I put on my shorts, a sweet pair from Maui… Khaki in color with white bold printed flower… silk pockets hold my hands, my keys and my change  making me feel I may have a little power

Then came my shoes my shiny brand new wingtips indeed …colored green, silver and white those expensive shoes…man ever so tight… I put them on and I feel just right… so sharp and shiny that by lacing them up… I nearly blinded myself almost losing my sight

I then took a look in my ego sized mirror…

” Distribution of Wealth in American” I said to myself… Paralleled here before me for sure.

I saw the disparity in what I wore and what it reflects hit me till I was sore

It’s the same as I see in my Christmas malls lot

One car with dents, six Corollas, a new Benz …a runaway boy on the corner smoking pot

Begging for cash his dirty hands held one sign with request for a prayer followed by cash

And in his other hand there he held an old hat like mine… tattered… torn barely held together

I focused on the hat as I gave him a buck then stared at my wingtips and said, “brother good luck”


The Festival

I went to a feast of evil

An engaging festival it was

Along with the lies there were plenty of flies to join me in the consumption of a corps which we ate

The lies ate the heart the soul was next in its line

The flies were content with eyeballs and slime

I took a bite deep into its once firm flesh

It was a delight

Not to be trite

But I think we would all agree: the lies, flies and I

The corpse now consumed, was a fantastic evil feast

Yet our hunger is not quenched… we are all still our own unfulfilled beast


Stare To Higher Ground

My Guard Is Down

My Armour Remove

My Soul Completely Bare

In Fact I’m Totally Naked Do You Care Like To Take A Stair?

Yes A Stare For Elevation To Live On Higher Ground

If You Come To  Complete Consciousness

It’s There That I’ll Be Found

In Fact If I See You

I’ll Be Happy To Show You Around



Shatter Cotton Candy Ten Milligrams a Piece

I Ate a Whole Bag and Found a Bunch-O- Peace

Not Simple Peace Be With You and “Also With You”

But Peace in Small Pieces Ten Milligrams Each



My Movie

I rewound and played the entire mental movie of my life last night

I gave it two thumbs up and a ninety seven percent rating

Four and a half stars out of five…

I’d watch it again but don’t need to, it left an impression

I paid attention to the film and I will remember it

It was a good movie

It was a good life