Poet

what sells

Cheap ice cream sells,

drugs & alcohol sell,

obnoxious talking heads on social media sell,

you know what else sells?

mom’s dirty underwear,

nobody

Nobody knows what compels decisions,

what makes us complacent,

stupidly reckless.

…

Nobody can agree on the definition of fate,

done

I hate poetry because it tells me what to do,
when nights are too short,
and love far away.

…

I hate poetry’s insistence,
when the cooking pot overflows,
and love is too fucking real to forego.

What makes a True poet

True poetry transcends applause and validation; it speaks through feelings, not words alone. Genuine poets seek…

beyond the wall

Language is a wall, and dialogue is the writing upon its seemingly impenetrable surface. But is it truly impenetrable, or is there a way through? Poetry feels like a scratch on that wall, and with enough scratches, a deep scar might form. Dozens of scars could create a hole, and several holes could…

found print

Words like sand deposits,

moved in volumes,

as cheaply as wood chips,

the print paper is made of,

then handed effortlessly,

Poet’s Art

Not every writer wants success,
Some leap for the unthinkable,
By losing income and respect,
The gain is inexplicable.

I often wake up late at night,
The moon is up and starts are loud,
My head begins to…

Sadness calls…

It’s sad that life’s a bitch and then you die.

It’s sad when there’s no time left to over compensate.

Yet it’s even more sad when poetry doesn’t pay the bills.