Entangled Roads


Labyrinthine hours
Sprawl on and on
With each valiant step

The unending swerve
The cruel and callous turns
Have mockingly served me
Into brisk currents of sorrow

The days slither
As I tramp further
Toward the greater mist

As the winds howl
Their devilish tunes
Whirling above
This meandering plight

These entangled roads
I foolishly scour
Shall reclaim my flesh
And entomb these frantic thoughts


Scrap Metal


Like a stalled Model –T
With wheels firmly entrenched
Defiantly carving
Its efforts, all for not

Muddied inclines
Glisten mockingly
Through the daybreak rain
As the zenith
Mournfully whimpers
Beyond my caring reach

Like broken tank tracks
Undone by the scourge of war
Billowing hellfire
That prances
Through night and day

With all I have
I strain, I strive for the hatch
Or boil forgotten
In a cauldron of sure demise

With nothing left
I foolishly remain
Fated to rust
In the gradual passage of time

Like contorted steel
Left to sour
In the August sun

Dreaming Destitutes


Ever faithful to reminiscing
The scourge of faltering daylight

Cartwheeling thoughts
Mimic bright cosmic beauty
Framed in the efforts
Of destitute kin

Distraught meanderings
Pour from a ravaged soul
Roving endlessly
For kind, loving refuge

The dismayed and unraveled
Stream away in silence
For the caring arms
Of loyal reveries

To honest memories
That fervently wheel
In their cavalier loop
At bay from the conscious world

Effortless daydreams
Weightless pondering
To attain their peace
Is the true harmony
That permeates
Inner content

Keeping Delusion


Like wavering sand dunes
Spent by an evening wisp
I too wither
At the drawn lash of time

Entombed desires
Shrivel with great haste
For a defiant tongue
Bars their sly escape

They must fall unknown
Succumb to a bitter rest
Ensnared by a mute hopelessness  
And rusted
With passing age

My truth
Can never be fully known
For unclouded eyes
May title them delusion

(I’m sorry that this isn’t my best)

The Inside Joke


Not quite
Is a scalding brand
Buried beneath the skin

Under timid waves
Squandered with age
The tides receding
With each spent word of disdain

Never on beat
Not quite
Never certain

I’ve scoured desperately
To your tune of no avail
The taunting constant
From swarms of the cool and crisp

The swift
The clean cut
The non-complacent
The bold and sure

Behind their fumes
I dwell with unease
Perpetually nauseous
And scattered among thoughts

Never on beat
Not quite
Never certain

Still I scour hungrily
A flustered wreck
Pacing anxiously
Through a narrowing tunnel of despair

All breathing sputters
As slews jet for their very own
Swift and clean cut
Untouched by mortal strife

Never on beat
Not quite
Never certain

Anchors my limbs
To a curse
Of frittered time

The Ravine


Foundation crumbles
Splintering without a care
Into reckless slabs
Coasting, for a hushed oblivion

Along the slumber’s ravine
The murderous blue slash
Through the unknowing wild

I map Its devilish contours
In my faithful slither
To its savage rhythm

Foundation defers

Through a timid, welcoming void
The tender haze
Of aspiration
The toll of shameless dreams

This ground I hail
Drifts beyond prying eyes
Near radiating hopes
So pure
Fervent and warm

Where I May Peacefully Diminish


Stone laden roads
Swerve masterfully
Up the inclines

The meandering arteries
Carved with great care
That travel sullenly
Hollow and unused

Into the mist-shroud apex
Beyond, a teary eye’s reach
Where scores
Once peered hopefully
To attain its powerful glimpse

Into snow-capped exhilaration
I’d diminish
In its clouded embrace

Far from my trials
And the constant beckon
Of savage, earthbound sorrow

I’d trail
Through the faultless majesty
Proud and undeterred

With raging valor

As I scale

Higher and higher




Youthful Night Terrors


“Languire un bambino!”
Ravages the frontal lobe
In the turmoil soaked nights
Where I writhe
In rapture and agony

I concede to the whim
Of this foreign mantra
In my thoughtless dive
Into madness far ago

“Languire un bambino!”
Pressures my delirium
The refrain I live
Through and through

The unconscious fall
Never draws to a halt
A triumphant close
Nor pitiful whimper

It drags and drags
In the loop of past pleasures
Of forgotten choruses
I slowly begin to deplore

“Languire un bambino!”
Is the maddening thunder
The flash of tribulation
That sends my lungs into peril

To grow old and weary
Is a charitable gift
To jet past these years
And the careless binds of youth

“Languire un bambino!”
Catapults me from slumber
Where i must dare to stray
From the old confines
That have loved faithfully
As my tried and true comfort


A Life Well Squandered


No pride lingers
In these vocal cords
Where a tarnished mantra
Barely clings to its breath

Depleted sentiments
Diminished concerns
Prevail over all
And consign my vision to grey

Away with exuberance
And its swerving deceit
The treachery of passion
Has lassoed my time

It is the fiendish noose
That’s coiled my life
With a lofty promise
And a cold plastic smile

Ive fallen forward
Into a life well squandered
A welcoming captive
The more than willing prey