Each new piece I find, to this puzzle or my mind.
Each new answer asks a question right in line.
Each new line I write, stay with me night and day.
Every night, I sulk, I miss the love in my heart.
Every morning, I melt, back into my leading part.
I try to blend in, pretendin’ I’m the same.
I try, but again and again, I see I’m not to blame.

These lines weren’t meant for any eyes,
besides those of my own.
These words to a passerby,
resemble something of a poem.
But me? Oh gee, I know these words to be something of a home.
A home that flows like the waves of the sea.
A home that fuels, that powers, the warmth inside of me.

So every piece I find, comes like the light of a new day.
Each piece helps guide me, along this journey, along my way.

A shark in shallow water,
A mini skirt, on your daughter,
A sculpture, poorly sautered.

A poem, poorly wrote,
A gun, without a scope,
A sailor, with no boat.

Mismatching socks,
Pockets full of rocks,
-like a goose without it’s flock.

Out of place, a line erased-
replaced by silence, violence
masked with incense, scented sweetly.
It puts me at ease.
But it’s just a tease, a tender distraction-
Something to delay our reaction.

First impressions, and a bouquet of flowers.
Brutal confessions, and spring’s first showers.

Like the star gazers in the city,
or a poet who’s not witty.
Like a piggy bank, broken for pennies.

You see, the devil comes off friendly.
Hugs you, holds you gently.

No wonder you didn’t see,
blindfolded, tied to a tree.
Dehydrated, so thirsty,
sobbing, “Don’t hurt me.”

Now deserted, wounded with no way to win.
Your discouraged, malnourished.
What a situation to be in.


Dec. 26, 2011

False hopes and false remarks.
Want to tell her, her chances are slim,
But I don’t have the heart.
It seems we were all fucked from the start.
Wishing for a future, promised in full-
Debt piles up. We’re stuck in the hole.
Trying hard, yet not hard enough.
The American dream is tough.
I’ve had enough, I said, “I’ve had enough.”
What’re we to do but breathe deep and hide our pride.
To fix our hair, and enjoy the ride.
Find your fortune, and find it fast.
Economy’s falling, America is coming in last.
Look at the way we spend our days!
Lost in a fumble, a toxic technical maze.
“Oh, what a waste,” we say, “a foul bitter taste,” we say.
“Sway the other way,” I say, “the other way.”


Jan. 2, 2012

And those who sing the blues sing them off key.
Creating a beautiful, yet piercing melody.
One that rings through your ears like a symphony.
A soul that pleads as it screams,
“Why me? Why do I care so? Why can’t I look away? Or say no?”
The blues are deep, a dark frosty night.
Freezer-burn all over your fingers, the medic saying, “It’ll be alright.”
The bum on the corner raising money to fill his flask.
The self-conscious hero hiding behind his mask.
Those who want to know but could never ask.
-The good sport who always comes in last.
-The anorexic on another fast.
Head hung low, you’re stuck in the past.
Full of regrets, tangled in nets with countless unpaid debts.
Remember to look to the sky.
It’s okay to cry, to sigh, to say goodbye.
Those who sing the blues sing them off key.
Wipe away those tears and haunting memories.
-It’s the only thing that’ll bring you peace.

Dec. 7, 2011

The dark eyes of disaster,
The evil vilian, the dark master.
Covered in mold- a cracked plaster.
The eyes of envy pulling you down.
Rigid and heavy, started before you were ready.
Embedded in sin, sold your soul for a flask of gin.
A night of rusty red lust, A dagger, covered in fluff.
Forget favors, forget friends-
All you have is yourself in the end.
Can’t say I didn’t warn you, or so I’ll pretend.
And when the clock strikes twelve, better run and hide.
Before you lose your carriage and we see your true side.
Before we witness all your lies and notice your scandalous eyes.
A masquerade mimicking a movie.
Rewriting the lines, the lead roles a real cutie.

Nov 18, 2011

Lost my confidence when reality stepped in,
Kept on fallin’ over, like a bowling pin.
Lost my way, when I lost my map.
No where to go- like I’m stuck in a trap.
Lost my mind, when I lost my map.
Lost my words when I tried to say,
“This world’s no good for those in a rush,
To those who can’t plan, And easily blush.”
Been beaten, been cheated, been thrown on the curb.
Been abused, been accused, and trampled by the herd.
Now bruised and confused,
Knocked down too many times.
Over used, like a blown fuse, an out of tune chime.

Nov. 3 2011