A few poems

I have a few poems that I’ve written, and because I never actually plan on becoming a published author, posting them here seems to be an okay idea. Some people have been asking for me to post them, but I fear rejection. I fear that they aren’t that good enough to actually be shared with anyone. Alas, I feel like I’m in a giving mood, so I decided to share. Be gentle, and don’t steal. They are mine, after all.


Moving Hands Count

give everything, every time.
seeding back and forth
minutes for hours and,
sometimes days.

soliloquy of carouser
hammering side to side
up alleys, behind aphotic corners
all adequacy dissolves.

asinine grasps
between enervated legs
plunge at pinnacle point
to bust nothingness.


(Thanks to my poetry writing group, I produced this one)

No Heir

the ebony wood, the carmine floor
ancestry meandering through crevices
through floorboards,
merging and seeping through.
frugal hearts left cardiac
incredible agony, taught ribbons
pins and needles through
shattered anamnesis,
albeit a sieve
sticking a light tool
of ascendancy by a forager
like a raccoon digging through a cart.


I know not what I do, what I want

deep sea changes mantle shelves,

stirring indefinitely beneath crashing

oceanic tides,

creating trenches and valleys

under unyielding pressure.


a fearless sea

wild unclenched empathy

fracture coastal shores.

like broken judgments

destructive promises

furtive trysts,

flow amorous aspirations

waving with enticement,

lapping up good conscious

with liaisons, cataclysmic lips

enthralling, tangled excitement

of oxidized, copious



ebb and flow

of pertinacious longing,

whitecaps of the sea bursting from

monotony and placidity,

fueled by

blazoned sensation,

of wants, not needs.

of yes, and more,

left shipwrecked

floating ashore.


all that i am, i am for you

freedom king

bring me a fresh egg

it breathes new life

thrill me, oh

freedom king

watch me dance

i’ll toe the line

just for you


freedom king,

you hold the key.

you are the oppressor

the dictator

you are my captor

i am your thrall


i bend for you

and your desire

like a ballerina

in a box

i twirl and spin



i want to escape

not to be found

king, oh, freedom

chip this stoned mask

off my face

give me new eyes

so that i may see

freedom king

burn the past


Winter Cyclones

at twilight in winter woods I stand among trees.

knee deep in ethereal snow

I feel January blow her frigid breath

and send a chill across the earth’s ground.

her winter grasp covers trees,

decorating their branches with ice, frost – snow.

the only sound is my breath and my heart.

as the winter wind howls,

it lifts the snow from the ground in little cyclones

sending the snow flakes dancing.

she can be callous,

bringing with her a frost bit charm

air crowds my lungs with frost

a pain so inordinate it tightens my chest

I can feel her anger seep inside

January reminds me

every year

of the a life that once was.

She never meant to be so cold,

never meant to bleed her sorrow –

unjustly she took from me

what was not hers to take

the ever stretching tree branches grow quite heavy

with the pressure

there is a mystery in her,

she plays you quite coy

January will not part with my memories

I cannot part with her.

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