Progress, the machine rolls downhill
Plugging away at every corner
Humanity’s destiny is spat out
Civility has become a cruel joke.

Some semblance sought
Yet the cries vacate our hearts
The crud knows no borders
Lives are at stack and nothing matters

Our last breathe is still waiting
Choking on the sorries of yesterday
There are no nations, there are no heroes
Our lasting vestige is our own silence


In words

that have no sounds

soft as air

whispers like feathers

stroking your beauty

saying nothing and everything

touches my lips, your skin

the scent of you

create more words,

i need not hear

but knowing

the passion that connects

completed sentences

paragraphs and stories

that never end



Your sons and daughters are lost with no direction

Pulled to the brink of fracturing

The politically rich have gone mad in their power

The middle class is drowning in an over zealot political correctedness

The leaves them breathless and cowering in the corners of darkness

The poor, no longer exist, they are ghost to themselves and all others

Veterans are chastised, without hope and no chance for glory

They hold guns at their own heads,

The trigger is taught and the rope tightens around their necks

The blacks are burning the streets of every ethnic tomorrow

The whites are crazed with becoming an hysteria beyond sense

The browns climb the corporate latter over fences and nothing is ever enough

The women are tossing fetuses

and the men laugh at the vain attempt to reconcile their manhood

We have succumbed to the Catlin’s and the Kardasians, they are the new disease

The news is re-cycled and censored and opined, there is no truth,



We have facebooked the truth, we have snapshot and instagramed our lives

To meaningless squabble and pointless rhetoric

No one cares for the likes of the O’Riellys or the Krauthammers

No one gives a fuck for the truth, is all a make believe

hidden in free speech and ill begotten slang

we substituted our words and emotions for emojis

we substituted pussy for p-word, nigger for n-word, fuck for f-word

what difference does it make, we speak it we feel it we substitute it

the meaning of it doesn’t change, yet we put our lives on the line

for nothing, for symbols and sayings and its all a load of crap



We the people, are a load of crap,

buried in blankets, burrowed in the underpasses and tressels of the cities

we are swaddled in bloodied cloth, umbilical cords dangling

left dying in the trash bins and garbage dumps

washed away like fucking flint Michigan

where you are better off drinking your own piss

we are new born babies tossed by the crack whores

there is the crux of the matter

if it screams, or needs feeding throw it away

it will only make the brain hurt more

yet all we can do is scream some fucked up cry

“we want equal this we want equal that”

And all I can say is America, leave me the fuck alone

Death’s Screams

I fear nothing of my being,

my conscious self, cries not

except in silence, waiting death of the soul

and all things must stop, and their is no existence.


What of my words,

sitting in a string of ones and zeroes

floating in the technical clouds,

have we become too interdependent with the machine.


What of your words,

existing in soundless waves

molecules floating never recieved

is the end so abrupt and we are thrown off our world.


we are really nobodies

dust covered ashes to wither away

the end of days is a new reality

without a thought to whisper us by on another poem

For the Soul of Robin

Even in daylight the darkness invites

In silence who will watch, who will care?

We can reach the inner soul much to our comfort

We know the secrets and the demons have no names

Still they are there, companions to our being

We call them many things, mostly we call them

And they come, without question, they come

We are at home in this verse, beyond words

Beyond sadness as the world turns in spirals

Like the flush of a toilet we are doomed before we breathe

Spinning, not really out of control,

yet spinning all the same, and we all move in place.

And War said it best, “The World is a Ghetto”

We never escape and one wonders, is this our making?

These are our angels and gods and images, our world.

Winter Dreams

‘I love the snow’, she said

All excited bouncing like a little kid

‘Let’s go and play in it’ And jumping out of her pj’s

She went bounding for warmer clothes and boots

I watched her through the bay window

Still trying to scratch the sleep out of my hair

Watching my snow fairy,

Tossing powder in the air,

Diving into heaps of snow, making angels

I laughed at her laughing at herself,

Dancing if nothing else mattered

And it really doesn’t matter I thought

What does, we were in bliss, she tossing herself around

Me, drinking coffee, being lazy, giving my novel some sleep

It was a day for being I thought,

and in being this was perfection

The world redefined unconditionally on that day

The pure love of two people.

That was five years ago As I woke to another winter

Dragging my weary bones to the coffee pot

My typewriter long asleep

As I turn to my spot at the bay window overlooking the world

Funny how five years of dust looks on my writing desk

In stark contrast to the virgin white snow

Lazily falling, no snow angels on the ground this morning

But I am sure there are extra ones in heaven.

The Figment of Days



we are the squirrels and technology is caged us,

so ironic that this is, too, electronic verse

floating in the clouds, nowhere and everywhere

meandering as ones and zeroes

until plucked for the taking


time runs around, no longer hands

no longer ticking, just moving

nowhere and everywhere

technology like the people, lost

even words may no longer matter.


the discard of everyday, tomorrow no longer matters

nor does an hour from now,

we are forever on the run

missing everything, tossing it out

with the garbage we are doomed to be.