a septuagenarian renown for his trademark prank
to steal himself into a neighboring house,
and prepare an elaborate meal
unsuspectedly nabbed gorging
(ala man versus food
Adam Montgomery Richman fame
Brooklyn, New York boy)
at an undisclosed location.

When asked why
he left figurative bread crumbs
to the very doorstep of his demise
with a mouth full of food he replied
inarticulately sounding muffled,
with indistinct words
a lot of slurring
and sometimes even gurgling noises.

A phantom ship on a sea of gray,
He drifted, unfinished, through the fading day.
The study room, a cage of stifled breath,
Where smoke curled slow, a harbinger of death.

In fields of dreams, he soared, a graceful flight,
A rumble deep, a primal, savage might.
With kindred spirits, he would fiercely roam,
But thoughts like moths, would flutter far from home.

A mind adrift, a canvas torn and frayed,
By colors swirling, shadows disarrayed.
ADD, a whisper, a forgotten tune,
A symphony of chaos, born too soon.

An angel once walked
Through a thick forest.
Her wings, so astonishingly celestial,
Dazzling in the sunlight—
Except, they’re burning.
A flame so invincible
That it’s endlessly ignited.
It wounds the heart,
And she shall search
For how to extinguish the ember
Before ashes mark the ground.
Thence, through seasons,
A lake was found.
And in the angel’s eyes,
That was the most ethereal scenery
She had ever witnessed.
It held thousands of shades of blue
In its eternal depths.

I gave the poem to him
to thank him for his help.
He blushed.
He had never
been given a poem
written especially
for him.

Oh
how he deserved
this poem.
This wonderfully patient man
who continues to give and give
and totally support me.

I am still
overwhelmed
with the depth
and support he provides.
It's amazing.
It's beautiful
and it makes me feel
special.

Increase the dose
Take me to the limit
Fill me to the brim
Let me see stars & let my head swim

Increase the strength
Push me to maximum
Send me to the sky
Let me lose control & let me fly

I can handle it
These shakes are normal & these convulsions are routine
Just need a handful of Paracetamol & a shot of Morphine
I’m not addicted; I can handle it; I’m completely clean

We all live in a Prozac Nation
Where every store is a pill-popping station

Wings flake like the promises you made,
love, fragile.

I followed your glow, starved with hunger,
my compass set to false stars.
A pull I did not question,
a thirst I could not name.

Morning.
A hush.
Dust smears the sill.
Fatal.
And you brushed me away.

He came to work in the wintertime

and left before summer came 

hard to believe he was with us 

only a few short months 


He shuffled in and out of our hearts

before we knew what happened 

the craggy face lined from a million smiles

eyes that lit up like a kid at Christmas time

He was 52 but will always be younger in our minds 

he loved the good things in life 

spicy foods great music 

a rebel with many causes 


Earth Mother see me sit and cry,
As tears of blood fall from the sky.
With aching arms I reach out in vain,
To quell rumbles, of self inflicted pain.

As floodgates open before my eyes,
The veil's removed, there's no disguise.
Immorality won, in how far we fell,
When fires are raging like eternal hell.

Into the pit, sinking ever deeper,
By satan's will, he's the keeper.
A grip as firm as the strongest device,
Blinkered to what we sacrificed.

Rain drips through this canopy
Feeding my insanity locked within
My own head without want of others
Words my mind bleeds thoughts

That repeat on an endless loop
Caught within my cranium of invention
That hides from attention I don't seek,
I'm blind to your appearance or aprisal

Who was I before I dreamt up all this
Madness or is that even true lost with
The unrelenting tide my head awash
With fear and endless torture

Alcohol’s for boozers
Boxing is for Bruisers
Choices are for choosers
Courts are for accusers
Drugs are for drug users
Hell is for abusers
Oceans are for cruisers
Parchment for perusers
Refuge for refusers
Poetry’s for losers