cheating chronos

August 13, 2018

We all get hurt.  We all get angry.  We all get frightened.
At times, all we want to do is a little ‘primal scream’.
Many times, we don’t even mean what we say; we just need to say it.
Poetry is a great medium for such expression.

Years ago, I wrote as if I were a suicidal man in a debate with God.
That poem is found here:
The poem was well received – but some took it too literally.
As I said, it was just my form of ‘primal scream’.

In deciding to publish this latest verse, I thought I’d be a bit more careful.
So, I created a separate page for my darker thoughts to warn the reader.

Remember, it’s just a poem.


why, you ask…

July 27, 2018

at some point, the question
becomes far more important
than the answer received
or the events which follow

there are some things we must ask
inquiries which must be made
or our failure to do so
will linger, even haunt us

we recognize the moment
though we might deny it
though our thoughts might insist
there is nothing to be gained

the heart still begs otherwise
stirring the soul to seek
to stretch its legs, embrace risk
and fuel its strength of character

a reply to such questions
whether joyful, frustrating
disappointing or misleading
is, nonetheless, the answer

for the will of another
be it thoughtful or frivolous
is no part of who we are
in having chosen to speak

the choice is but a nod to fate
acknowledging long tomorrows
at a bar, a beach, or the end
at peace with our pursuits

we might be alone, just then
when we recall the question
or not, for much is unknown
which is why we bother to ask…

time muses (revised)

July 19, 2018

time is not our friend, she said
he never seems to care
never lifts the fear or dread
of his not being there

she would lecture him each night
tell him to be kinder
hiding in her bed alone
so he could safely find her

when her clock had run, he sighed
for all that he had lost
all he could have seen through eyes
that saw his role star-crossed

in mortality, he thought
his point’s too often missed
even seconds last too long
if used to just exist

pretty kitty puffy tail

July 17, 2018

pretty kitty puffy tail
used to chase the fishes
spawning in the bathroom stalls
after smoking wishes

an idle curiosity
chemically enhanced
celebrated, gratified
left her soul entranced

admiring advances
worn in favorite fashion
draped across the catwalks
as they moved her to the passion

kitty kept a private purr
silent to desire
clawing, scratching, constantly
as if consumed by fire

all that’s left of kitty now
litters sad confessions
seeking dispensation
for abusing her obsessions

lessons with mr. salsabor

July 5, 2018

life’s strange rhythm, ever changing
seemed to me a game of chance
till i watched a salsa master
teaching patterns for a dance

and i realized all worth learning
has a basic step to start
if you want to be successful
then the key is that first part

keep your balance, hold your head up
with your feet beneath your core
don’t leap forward, smaller strides
will permit you to do more

have a golden rule you follow
a philosophy, don’t bend
mark your place at each beginning
and the point you want to end

stay connected, always watchful
let your partner know you care
by adjusting moves your making
so the moment can be shared

if your leading, please remember
it’s a temporary role
where the spotlight’s on another
and their pleasure is your goal

be respectful and be patient
let it show in all you do
ever mindful of occasions
when the same was shown to you

feel the music, let it move you
keep its count, its beat, its pace
never rush, there’s time to get there
it’s a journey, not a race

and, above all else, be faithful
to yourself and who you are
don’t look down, for what’s approaching
are those dreams once thought too far

the rules, part 4 (notes to myself)

June 24, 2018

if who she is…is all you want
despite her imperfections
ask no more of her than that
in return for your affections

never take dominion’s reign
hold it only with consent
give it freely when its sought
but be candid in dissent

leave her freedom with your faith
but expect the same returned
love, though patient, good, and kind
is forever being earned

keep your passions slow to burn
rush no aspect of desire
but with all deliberate speed
take what’s offered of that fire

this, above all else, remember
you’re the shelter in her storm
not a hero, just a refuge
just a place that’s safe and warm

just a place she can recover
find the strength to start anew
so she might, if its required
do the same, in turn, for you

about last night…

June 17, 2018

she’s a devastating drama
with some tragedy mixed in
wrapped in such a pretty package
it could move a saint to sin

so forgive me for forgetting
to employ what sense i had
as to err is only human
and my judgment was just bad

in the moment, it was perfect
or at least that’s how it seemed
in the act of pure consumption
she was all i’d ever dreamed

but this morning she’s gone crazy
texts are blowing up my phone
and the only thing i’m craving
is some time to feel alone

cause she says she has to see me
and she needs me right away
like she can’t go on without me
like she can’t get through the day

it’s as sad as it is scary
to sense panic in her pleas
as she claims she can’t go home…
oh…look here…i have her keys

missing lisa

June 5, 2018

i am left with so few words
to know a voice that steadied me
supported me, befriended me
will no longer speak anew

at this moment, i can only cry
selfishly, thinking of the loss
of all she had left to say
of all she had left to share

still, in this proper grieving
i can hear her: you’ll be fine
don’t make such a thing of it
everything will work itself out

and, in my heart, i know it
i know, like so many others
it’s just what she would say
comforting us through it all

this is who she was to us
a friend, first and always
quick to encourage, inspire
and lift the lowest of spirits

yet challenging us as well
expecting us to be better
as if she knew we could be
as if she saw that best in us

and we knew it, and loved it
looking forward to seeing her
even on those worst of days
when the visit was mandatory

wrap it up, i hear her saying…
you’re not Lennon or McCartney
and i wasn’t seeking sainthood…
i only tried to be a good person

true; although you succeeded
where so many others fall short
which is why, for a little while
all i want to do is miss you

in love’s last words

May 28, 2018

things i rarely spoke of, they used to linger here
deep in the shadows of a good and happy life
so well hidden i never really dealt with them
their consequence, like silence, so easily ignored

perhaps that’s why they stayed, patiently waiting
trusting in a conscience they knew would prevail
and a strangely unwavering faith in redemption
certain they would hear their final exit lines…

i’m sorry; i love you, i will always love you
even though i feel i can no longer stay
even though you feel you have to leave
every promise, every vow, was truly spoken

i’m sorry, though the confession changes little
our stars were as they were; meant for no more
just kids, playing at life, at love, and lost to it
to a fire we had no wish or ability to control

it is the nature of youthful passions to ignite
to set the world ablaze and revel in its warmth
every moment meant for instant consumption
but in it, often, too much of ourselves is exposed

left to the unintended harshness of impatience
and the unforgiving insecurities of immaturity
things are said; thoughtless, empty, even hurtful
the weight of which the heart fails to comprehend

no such thing you would have said can i recall
but i remember my own, i remember your tears
and i remember that crippling soulless feeling
unable to take back, to heal, the wounds inflicted

these things alone singe the edges of the picture
the image of that ‘could have been’ love story
the one the mind rewrites for life’s next chapter
these things, lingering, leaving me always less

that you looked past them, that we parted well
may have allowed me to think i had grown
but i hadn’t, i hadn’t understood what i did
why i did it, or the need for honest contrition

and so these things, they waited, faithfully
waited till today, when i saw your eyes
tearful, looking back at me through another
as a calming voice whispered ‘i’m sorry’

and i was, and i am, and i have been
for all things i said, and all i didn’t say
for the pardonable sin i left unpardoned
unable or unwilling to seek forgiveness

in their leaving, these things will lift me
the shadows they hid among will fade
and i will be reminded of the best i can be
better, because of the love we once shared

mixology vol. 2

May 20, 2018

This tale of a “strawberry stripper” is comprised of the often obscene names awarded to alcoholic drinks.

It is the same approach I used to pen mixology vol. 1 in 2011.  That verse is available here:

However, this new verse is probably a bit much for the main page.

Accordingly, the actual poem is found on a separate page entitled a bit too risqué: