season of change

Never had a bad intention

I just always made some bad decisions

that usually got way out of hand

and discredited my good intent

though looking a bit harder now

I guess I was just angry and confused

and figuring it out the best I knew how

given time, place, and circumstance

I mean I was just 16 then 19 — 23 then 25

now 31 doesn’t feel so old, in fact

I feel much younger than my former self

ready to dive back into that season of change.

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Kyle’s Camel

Kyle’s

Camel

cigarette

smoke

lingers in the air

creeping in my window

wishing me to dare

take another drag

see what you’ve been missing

though if I did decide

to have another kissing

I’d like to think

it would be mid winter

jangling down the streets

of New York City banter

admiring sleepy windows

with a stranger I barely know

after leaving the Wreck Room

now long since closed

and wondering if she feels

the same way I do

taking a long hot drag

while

trying to seem cool

knowing nothing about her

yet desperately wanting to

and they would taste like Brooklyn

they would be Pall Mall Menthol

crisp and clear and clean

like ice on the verge of thaw

we’d be cracking up.

strangers to ourselves.

My eyes burn

with exhaustion

scanning the airport

for any sign of life

though heads down turned

there is none

just a few lone stragglers

who look around

the same as I

unwilling to accept the courtesy

of pleasant conversation

we remain

strangers

and

strangers to ourselves.

moving West

I flipped myself

like a coin

then flipped again

just to see

if heads or tails

would land twice

like a pollinating

honey bee

I figured if I had a

50/50 chance

I might as well

take a look see

and feel what lie on the

other side of dying

rather than spend another

long day trying

to convince myself

I’d be better off another house wife

crying

into coffee

or screaming into laundry

relying on the offerings

of innocent smiles

casting unintentional

shadows on my coffin

of denial

marred by my own

self loathing

which like a

preacher’s devotion

I took such pride

in approaching

solitude

like a potion

endlessly encroaching

on my own

well being

I admit I was broken

so I flipped that coin

heads

then I flipped myself

tails

and discovered

this notion

that

heads or tails I was going

Going

Gone

with the wind

not a rolling stone

or a tumbleweed

not a nickel or dime

not a honey bee

no I was a wreck

cast far out to sea

but that’s just the thing

it took all that to see

moving West wouldn’t be

all that easy for me

no nothing is lucky

nothing is free

except the glow of bonfire

in the dead of tree

where dancing shadows

take form and

I’m just

understandably me — hell

it’s already 1:03

and I’m hungry

but

I’ve got no food to eat —

so call it in the air

no

on second thought

I’ll just let this one be.

A view from 3614 W. Magnolia Blvd.

While someone’s tightening the belt

strapped firmly around the throat

and another’s sporting her crown of thorns

trailing hoots and hollers towards hell

there’s a man dressed casual

waiting for the bus, and it’s cold

and he’s dancing with himself

and he’s smiling, sadly so am I.

poetry is spam

A large portion of

poetry is spam.

But I don’t eat that stuff,

at least not until I get to see Hawaii

then who knows?

I hear, fried with an egg, it’s good.

When in Rome, you know;

when in Rome.

Hyde in Jekyll’s clothing.

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde

unleashed by use of potion

as swift as light

as evenings cloak

a wrecking ball in motion

of skin and flesh

a heart so dark

devoid of all emotion

it’s midnights grip

from which I hide

and seek to cure

this strange compulsion

like many men

before my time

who tried to rid the notion

of good and evil

within one mind

a harlequin commotion

where in the end

come banging fists

as silent screams approach him

to slay the monster

from within

the cure his own expulsion

and in plain clothes

lay to rest

Hyde in Jekyll’s clothing.