Tag Archives: poetry

Her trip

Last night
she opened a
a door in her head
and walked out
and breathed in forests
and bathed in moonlight
and spoke in wave-hiss.

And as the night explained
the machinery of dreams
to her, a sudden understanding
flooded her veins
pumped by a heart
not closed as a fist
but open
as a flower
in the



Be a dog.

Gnaw on bones of contention.
Growl at purrs of contentment.

Fuck contentment.

Never pass a pile of shit
without sniffing it.
Or crotch.

Be eager.
Stay desperate.

Leap at any biscuit shooting across the sky.

Wag your tail.
Pant a little.
Play catch with life.

It’s fun to be alive.

So much to bow.
So much wow.


Like a phoenix
love rises again and
again from the ashes.

We never learn.

It’s staggering.
Our capacity for hurt.
Our talent for ruin.

This incendiary heart
combusting spontaneously
with every passing spark.

Consumed every time.
in the forest fires of want.
Losing every happiness in
the blazes..

Singed but never careful.

It’s what makes us

Our stupidity.


Don’t do this.
Don’t give me hope.

Despair is the glue
that’s holding
me together.

It’s easier to breathe
when it’s routine.

Don’t talk to me
about rainbows
as I stand here
shivering in the
cold rain.

I don’t want to know
how warm it’s in your
arms and where
your smile ends.

It’s cold in here but
I am used to it now.

I don’t want to
know which songs
make you cry or
how you look

Nothing lasts.

So let’s not start


I was a train wreck.
You were a car crash.

Two disasters.

Yet it was good we met.
We were good for each other.

Like two negatives
making a positive.


The impossible
love of the damaged.

You slapped some
sense into me.

I shoved some
calm down your throat.

We fixed up each
other up as best
as we could.

Helped each
other stand.

Helped each
other walk.

And walked away
before we ruined
each other.

The final act of kindness.


There is a thief in my

Stealing my sleep,
my peace, my

It’s an anger
without a name.

Slinking in at will to
pillage my feelings,
rob my emotions,
sack my sanity.

I try to forget.
I try to forgive.
A thousand things.

But then I remember
a thousand more.

And the plunder
begins afresh.

In all fairness

They say justice is blind.

Maybe that’s the reason
why our judgements of
people are based
on hearsay.

What we hear
about people colours
the way we see them.

Any one in the movie
business is promiscuous,
all musicians are
substance abusers,
all writers are
slightly insane and
and all bankers
are boring.

Everyone judged and
sentenced before they
can plead their case.

We do it out of a
subconscious spite.

We judge because
we are judged.

Life is unfair
because we make it so.