Point of Life
Life is what you make of it, so make it full of joy– Otherwise, Fuck it– What’s the point.
View ArticleHow to Label an Artist/Author
The Art we delegate From our own perspectives Shapes our lives by our objectives Down along the river Or near a country farm Intersecting thoughts which gather alarm One sees it as this One sees it as...
View ArticleMinor Details
Eyes in front, Focusing on some high-rise Ant Farm Minor details… No coffee; none for sale. Thoughts on our time When contemporaries write on depression And how they want to write, Immodestly mentioned...
View ArticlePoetry for Profit
Poetry for Profit; The dilettante says. It just doesn’t happen, It’s an illusion in the sick minded head. Corporate sponsors, Ads which have mislead. They have a job to do: They have to pose and fit...
View ArticleThe Waiting Game
The Waiting Game, To lose a loved one is a waiting game; You are given a time to sit and think and wait. There is no end to the sorrow you will sustain, Only adding numbers to the day they went away. I...
View ArticleCold Day July
Hot Coffee Cold Day Blue Sky Why complain? Books to entertain, Existing on this plain. Between life, insight, Likes… Bikes and Lakes- There is nothing but happiness along the way.
View Articlea writer engaged…
Engaging keys to dance on the screen a sticky banged-out sort of language, eyes flicker-flash as they register, each finely enacted word is painted. Sentences used decidedly, discrete- far beyond just...
View ArticleStream-of-Conscience Free-Writing on Positive
Laugh at yourself more. Make alternate plans. Stop speaking in arguments. Get out while you can. Eclipse those bold around you. Expand your mind like desert sand. Excuse the ill-hearted. Lie in the...
View ArticleThings just concern me
Vote for Logic, put Robots in Office. Mandatory polygraph tests for candidates assuming the role… Don’t fret though, I’m partial. They say ‘follow the leader’, and ‘to each their own’, in unison,...
View ArticleTaxing Life
Life Taxing: we sit behind walls to pay for sitting behind walls. Wheels spin, no gas on deck, armies fight wars waged for black gold; these things are related. Glass punctures and creates an escape,...
View ArticleLifestyles, I forget *(MPLS)
Heat index Windless lungs Torrential rain Frozen months Past pains Tattoos reflect Painted bodies Empty heads Pierced flesh Slight regret Walking home Make amends Life-styles Cigar-ettes Cold...
View ArticleOh, what a night
This lonely night, as I scrub clean the soiled dishes. Wet hands, same the front of my day-old shirt; dinged pale, blotched, and loose. Nothing in its place; bottles falling, corners catching...
View ArticleTesting Salt
Waking each day to test my resolve Walking around with patience Living through the storm and calm Resisting tumultuous agents
View ArticleHow To: King of Notecards
King of Notecards Working so hard Excessive paper; Academic waivers Obsessed with syllabus And what’s killing us Oh(!) true So few Read a book Write a story- Become moved… (episteme and glory) Ruling...
View ArticleHollow Bones or Dead Teeth
He sat, Clasped hands, Sometimes clattered on the desk, Wearing his nails long; Hollow bones or dead teeth, Criticizing, Moving with gestures- -Words on gender and pleasure. One must point the finger...
View ArticlePatience in the Rain
Rain sluiced along proofed fabric A time for lights in opaque dark Hope at the end of a long tunnel Cautious minds where thoughts start Wet roads have been transposed Reflecting on headlights and glare...
View ArticleCollege Reading
Another book to read, -Yes indeed. Language, words, grammar and punctuation; Literally, a fine luxury.
View ArticleBlood Moon in the Morning
We live in warm beds, We comb hair on heads. We light smokes, We tell new dirty jokes. Standing in shambles, In the sun- Avoiding preamble, Damage is done- Rambling on, -Sweet sad song. On this;...
View ArticleIdiots with Entitlement
One is made pragmatic by experience; A grave man Speaks grave words Of which the living cannot hear. I would not spend $50,000 to buy shit. Old-time orthodox tradition; If fish didn’t kill themselves...
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