Tuesday, 19 April 2016

Captain's Entry

I woke up this morning because there was nothing else to do
but gravity's grasp on my head
pulled my thoughts like a tidal shift
so I remained looking at the light
that squirted through the narrow slits in the blinds
like a gaping hole on a ship set for the ocean floor.

Accepting my fate I got out of bed and went to the door
to check if the letterbox held any hope
yet that too leaked
as saltwater coarsely collided with the back of my throat
so if this ship is incapable of being steered to safety
I might as well lock myself in and nail any gaps shut.

I woke up this morning because there was nothing else to do
and nothing of note happened
so I fell back asleep, content
with the fact that I still haven't drowned
and despite the uncertainty that the signals are reporting
I still refuse to sink.

Halogen Engines

The sun lay comatose on the sky's veranda, a hollow halogen for those tethered to its pull.
Soft spring songs swim through breeze like schools of fish drawn to the odor of fresh mulch.
The distant mower cuts a carpet of multifarious grass atop a pampered dirt, 
asking the Earth of its faculty, cacophonous and coughing gasoline. 
A seething and still gravel road carves through the surface of the crust, 
imparting a passageway to an island
swallowed on each side by efficient and mass distributed cathedrals of carpentry,
drafted by architects and subsumed by engineers. 
The buzzing industry of the mower has given way,
the only energy remaining is fluted by the symphony of blue jays and house finch.

Thursday, 14 April 2016


My attempts
to inject vivre
have been in vain
so I vociferate
the vitality in my blood
until it all begins to wane.

A Collapse of Control

Cornered by a cage of conflict;
cacophonous in its callous call.
Curtains veil red velvet cushions
and creased posters on the wall.

Feeling more crap than crapulent
as an aching kicks my head.
Thoughts return to that veiled corner
and my thoughts are filled with dread.

Tuesday, 5 April 2016

No Cigar

I am the world's
greatest disappointment.
Mr Might-have-been
could almost have been
my name.
For every
minor victory, i am
mocked with a myriad
monumental defeats.
I am a man;
in some frozen
wilderness, rubbing
sticks together so I live
through the night.
whenever I get a fire
going, God snuffs
the spark
just to see how far
he can push me.
tonight, hell find out.
because tonight,
my wifi
keeps going out.


Days and nights all terribly bleak ;
a way away from the mundane is all I seek.
A breath of fresh air , something to fill the void
when tar-like despair engulfs all I once enjoyed.
Nights of gluttonous blackness , and days in grey
tomorrow will be better, or so must I pray.

A lapse

My throat dries up and my skin starts to itch,
watery eyes and trembling fingers:
I consume it all but it dissolves within me and it escapes me.