An older poem of mine that I came across and thought I'd share.
Tag: poems
Be The Light
One more from the dusty vaults. Probably circa early two thousand-teens. Sometimes no one will be there to guide you through the muck. Sometimes you have to step up and shine despite the darkness inside. You're not alone out there. Let's shine together.
Music? Poetry? New Moon Magic? We must be talking about Rorie Kelly!
Singer/Songwriter/Badass Rorie Kelly hosts a weekly syndicated Twitch TV program called Monday Night Muses, that features live music and poetry, and I have had the honor of having two of my poems read! AND set to music!
Fire signs and watermarks
Another Brand Old poem. Originally published in Bellowing Ark Vol. 25 Number 4 -- 2009
The flame only burns if you linger
Another poem from the archives.
Common clay
The title poem to one of my poetry manuscripts that never came to be. Now that the years have gone by, I see just how prophetic this poem is. Or how damning...
The wolves have lost their fangs their will their way
A poem from the archives. This one has been published several times (I think my most published poem), and seemed to be a hit whenever I performed it. Seems so long ago. Another life. Hopefully it still has a bite.
Death is always there
Death is always there:
Death is knocking back
drinks with
Hemingway
lurking around
shiny switchblade corners
slippery jackknife turns
rotting on the side
of the road
stalking like a jilted lover...
Rise!
Rise! is a poem I had written back in 2012, but I feel the message is still valid. I'm a card-carrying procrastinator and self saboteur, and I can't help but feel stupid about it. The world gives us enough obstacles, why do we create even more? If we could just focus all that energy/time/thought into doing what we want to do instead of on all the bullshit reasons we can't/shouldn't/couldn't, then, my friend, we'd be so much closer to becoming our true selves.
Enough preaching. Onto the poem that's mostly preaching. By the way, I hope it helps you if you need it, or entertains you if you don't.
Mouth like Bukowski
An old Poem of mine:
Mouth like Bukowski
The sun crept up behind the tree line
we rose like zombies
from the grave
cotton mouthed
and disappointed
just
another day of errant madness
slaving to make filthy men
rich
instead of rich men
filthy