The moon rises over Manhattan.Her fortified smile poured smoothlyIn a sea of faces, bitter and wry.Her syrupy voice, friendly and warm,Completed my cherry-topped night.The moon sets over Manhattan,And the sun stings my eyes.
Your Conviction’s a Costume
Performative profundity falls flatWhen contradictory contentNames your true nature. Your talk belies your own talk—And small wonder why we balk.Your testimonial truthsAre wishy-washy and weak-spined.Surely you can’t believe we’re blindEnough to swallow that scripted sludge. Conviction’s more than catchphrase carouselsOr costume changes to match your mood.We weary watchers see the true script.Your fire fades under…
Rooted in Red Clay
California love blooms again in Georgia soil.I planted them for her a long time ago—Poppies, little bursts of color for my SoCal girl,Rooted in red clay. She smiled at me that first time we met,Brightening and warming an already bright day.I stood there powerless, holding this fierce angel—Rooted in red clay. She smiled when she…
No Fare
Charon sits, moored upon the shore,No lantern pierces the fog.A cold, penniless wake—Not even a ripple on the bog. The dark, still waters—Serene. Indifferent.They spare the destitute,But not the morally indigent. Ashes forgotten, sealed in the furnace,Closed to the skies.No breezes to catch, no currents to ride,No fields to fertilize.
The Revenant
The man on my birth certificate has died.But he was no man—A revenant at best,Chained to drinkAnd inhuman emotion.Hollow and bereft. He has died as he lived:Forgotten.
Saints of Hustle Culture
The saints of hustle descend upon the unfulfilled,And proselytize of their victims’ future fortuneIf only they’ll grit their teeth and grind…grind…grind… From the other side of their mouths they’ll remindTheir quarry that grit isn’t enough and suggestThey also create a clever new design…design…design… Monetize your hobbies and even your downtimeSuch that your rest isn’t for…
Velvet Teeth
The mornings are better without you.I can watch the gray give way to blue,Let light creep in where you reclined—Shaping my expectation,Building anticipation. No aftermath, or hours-long bath,No drowning in your stench.No raw-throated prayersOr mirror-eyed staresAt the wreckage of your wake. Your lips promise warmth—A slow burn, a whispered hush,A debaucherous dive into lust. But…
Distilled Delusions
The bullshit was thick, and I needed a drink.I headed to the cupboard, right on the brink.But when I got there—motherf—it was bare!All alone it stood, taunting me, if I dare. “I’m all octane, baby, but check out my label!I’m great in small doses, though a bit unstable.I pretend I’m not neutral, flavorless, forgettable—No, I’m…
ur no α
You fool.You’re not apart from the herd;You’re a part of it.Aftermarket?Still mass-produced.Your individualityAn affectationOf a common ideal.Your skill?Below average.BrashnessMakes you bold and stupid,Not nimble and responsive.Oversized egoAnd undersized bits.Compensation on your window. You pack animal.Oakleys and Skoal.Mountain Dew spit bottle.Commoditized pride(A Chinese export).Begging to be triedSo you fulfill a dream.Pumping gas and a mixOf Morgan…