Tell Me About When I Was Born

These weird uncharted pavers inside my head

Break bread hourly with my monotonous life I dread.

Ragtop down, with spit in my eyes,

Every dream I’ve gleamed, I start to realize.

Casting centipede feelers onto wooly white canvas,

Black sheepish charred edges, frame my flighty crows from Kansas.

Words laced with brevity charm me to my toes,

Their ideas of grand imagination engage a writer’s marriage proposed.

If only I could write as fast as I think,

I’d be a pithy punny without having to think.

Overripe with new seeds spilling to waste,

Witnessing what happens when thoughts are encouraged to baste.

Boiling the stories inside of me raw,

But I’ll always have a tale ready to tell, that is more than ten feet tall.



Originally posted on My Trending Stories


featured image

(ERP, NC sunset 6.28.16)


Watch me morph into cherished sunrise,

From the discarded thoughts that plaited the skies.

Breathe translucent jeweled consciousness into your expanding lungs,

Heart healed hopeful, spilling with new lyrics unsung.

This is the genesis dawn of your enlightened days,

Euphoria you emanate, sweeps the world in your glorious rays.

Set kind example, and lead with your bright shining hearts,

The Universe recognizes this unity as its harmonious counterparts.

Synchronicity moves simultaneously in the moon, sun and stars,

With gravity anchoring this Aquarius new age rebirth to justly be ours.




High Roller

Roll my sultry bones like liquid diamond dice,

Blow on their loaded alcohol as lady luck bestows her intoxication.

Stike the flint fires of prophecy,

Breezing the addiction of my heat to your wild core.

No diggity I hold a flush of the aces, calling sevens on our fated table,

You’re only betting against the house of chance,

Whose bed will be caged in mirrors?

My sunglassed heart is here waiting for your stakes,

Smelting in our lava ore, and the doubling down of our electric love.




Lips on Words



Warmth of your glistered bouquet,

Fall into heavy slumber

Among my humid shadows

Of fragrant long summer days.


Your words so potent of a scent,

Leave a taste of berried love so ripe

Bringing me home just in time

To kiss promises of your savored harvest.





Through the misted meadow’ed window of my weary soul,

I heard the knocking laughter from it’s troll.


He cackles and bleats at my failing demise,

My hope losing grip, my heart fraying in perpetual agonize.


No matter how hard his presence I try to leave,

He creeps behind me at an amazing gimping speed.


I cannot shake his rotted humid breath,

Matching the stench of my secrets, that I’d hide until death.


My nightmare resurrects under new pseudonyms,

Why is he back? For years I have not seen nor heard of him.


I’ll burn his goats bridges, in a huge hell bonfire,

A last ditch hail Mary to save my measly crumbling empire.


I will not leave a trail back to me so easily found,

Pushing the notorious demon back into his lair up underground.


He feasts on my idle indecisions and carefree laughter,

Ambushing my joy, is what he greedily lust after.


He has been stalking me for years on end,

Disrespectful of my life, he snidely spits to condescend.


Once I have shook his hand, with no option to run,

Fear if he embraces me, my inner light darkens and forever is shun.


His darkness is familiar, and in it comes unintended comforts,

He peddles a numbness, where my feelings can slumber.


But he is mistaken that I am that easily won,

For my rebirth into the Universe is only just begun.


So I will fight against my surrendering nature, to rally against him,

I will win this war, with celestial light’s ardor and an army of enlightened seraphim.






The Mountaineer

No one but you,

Dared the steep inclines,

To scale my untraveled paths.


Your words-

Smoothed my souls wounded edges.

With cushions of care

That rubbed down my jagged, torn catches

From the years of weathered neglect.


Only to you,

Am I the hidden jewel,

Amid the rough windy whispers of love.





The Narcissist

Originally posted on My Trending Stories


featured image     (Narcissus by Caravaggio, painted circa 1597–1599)


Throw a tantrum of pricey debutantes

Swinging Thor’s hammer specifically nonchalant

Pick the choicest slab of aged beef to be sold

It’s your party to live in those moments of glamoured mold

Overstated tours of your pearly mausoleum

Have you boasting gladiator to the world Colosseum

But along with your self-professed celebrity

Spend many a sleepless nights playing tunes of jealousy

Your circular world is not ours to claim

Under the false pretenses of your swindling con game