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:


the rules, part 3 (rough edit)

May 10, 2018

she can get mad, and she will
she can get sad, even cry
at times, all you do will still fail
but that doesn’t mean you don’t try

it’s not the things you got wrong
it’s not your words or your deeds
it’s that she feels you don’t care
for her, who she is, or her needs

so winning the point is a waste
as foolish as playing it cool
and lying, regardless of why
will only serve anger as fuel

better you simply stay true
listen, accept, and just wait
trying to fix things too soon
is nearly as bad as too late

she’ll let you know when it’s time
remember, it’s not who was right
this is about something more
or it wouldn’t be such a fight

the fire you see in her eyes
was set with an aim more sublime
meant for a feeling she fears
has since been ignored over time

trust in the person you know
have faith in the bond that you share
and show her the person she loves
has, and will always, be there

wisdom crawled out

May 8, 2018

wisdom crawled out, beaten and torn
flailing about on the bedroom floor
begging for mercy, taking her life
swearing an oath to heaven’s despite

evil awoke, tearing its flesh
spitting up blood and stinking of fish
seizing itself like a ravenous beast
swallowing whole its lust and deceit

ashes to ashes, demon be gone
leave her the carcass of faith when you’re done
little is needed of meat on those bones
barely enough is more than she’s known

still, there’s a chance of the strength to go on
of making a meal from the scraps hereto thrown
drawing on something beyond all can see
rising, and thriving, through limitless pain

wisdom crawled out, beaten and torn
gathered herself in the girl on the floor
nodded to mercy, rescued her life
and swore a new oath to heaven’s delight

the rules, part 2 (revised)

April 25, 2018

you can love them, you can trust them
they can be your closest friend
but unless you can respect them
what you’re building will soon end

if you need them more than want them
it’s yourself you’re thinking of
such desire can fuel passion
but it won’t inspire love

and relations based on beauty
based on money, charm, or smarts
fade in view of greater talents
richer sums and newer parts

it’s not reason, it’s not logic
it’s not passion, hope, or lust
it’s an unexplained emotion
that turns maybe into must

at its heart, it’s recognition
of a need within the soul
to enrich another’s journey
so that each might reach its goal

it’s a bond in search of nothing
save the single dream all share
to be happy, in the moment
free to dream, to seek, to dare

some desired everlasting
some by circumstances blessed
they inspire in each other
what each needs to be their best

so it isn’t who you’re thinking
who you wanted, but now doubt
and it’s not who you can live with
it’s the one you can’t without

princess and the baby dinosaur

April 15, 2018

dinosaurs are very big
even in their baby stage
clumsy, awkward, often lost
out of place at any age

they don’t make the best of pets
costly to maintain and buy
but they’re loyal, brave, and smart
so they’re still in short supply

princess got one weeks ago
says she found it on her own
no one else had noticed it
though it made its presence known

hers, they say, is quite unique
does most anything you’d ask
but she rarely bothers it
or assigns the thing a task

she will lend it out, at times
when a friend is in true need
but only in those cases
where the dinosaur’s agreed

since she hardly uses it
some think she should set it free
no, she says, i can’t do that
he’s a baby…he needs me

no sweet sorrow

April 15, 2018

thirty years is a long friendship
and i will always remain grateful
with every breath i take today
for you who once allowed each

whatever threat you now pose
consider your sins forgiven
and let us begin this parting
with those ambitions we first shared

mine, to live a life without fear
without the threat of a ‘last’ attack
waking in a panic, gasping, crawling
reaching for the latest useless cure

yours, to reaffirm our faith in magic
in the conquering of weaknesses
illnesses, and those human frailties
which seem to grow so ever present

your cost, be it all that was warned
in its wear and tear on the body
simply too insignificant to consider
measured against the alternative

at least until fate’s intervention
unrelated, unforeseen, as she is
revealing to us, for the first time
i might be something more alone

it’s difficult, letting go, for both of us
i feel your reminder on most days
holding, squeezing, but it’s ok now
even comfortable, to sense you leave…

past the proof stage

March 31, 2018

at some point, the testing should stop
the hypothesis is proved, or it isn’t
you can go on, but little will change
we can all read results, if we’re honest

and we can all perform the experiments
determining if the idea is viable or not
even if we lack the courage to do it
or tend to rely on less promising proof

in youth, we set the bar, the assumptions
traits which we perceive as our best self
it’s what we hope others will see in us
if not what we want to see in ourselves

but it is rarely ‘how’ we see ourselves
always thinking something more or less
acting, reacting, changing, growing
tweaking the formula, consciously or not

moving through a gauntlet of catalysts
redefining everything, only to start again
looking for that winning combination
that reaffirmation we are as we hoped

in the process, we seem to lose sight
forgetting those youthful aspirations
those first visions of who we might be
if we were our best self as first imagined

upon reflection, in the mirror, stands a child
looking back and smiling at many of us
it took a long time, but i can see him now
and i know, i’m finally past the proof stage