Golden trails

Wish upon stars
breathe in galaxies
hold your breath for the sun
touch the moon for bits of clarity

The fragments of light from afar
come closer for us to touch
shining bright inside our bones
the particles too bright to budge

When the stars shoot across the sky
we are the dashes of old light
a passing moment in time
a shine glimmering so bright

The world revolves unpaved
through the warm nights and light streams
we carve paths in waves of darkness
beaming forward into the unseen


In the grips of labor
passion and love
are riddled with failure

Work away the pages
through notes and drafts
dedication is an art as is our craft

Without counting the hours
the countless spent on refining
defining truth in the realms of our power

Work magic through thick
through the tragic, through the sick
to pick up pure passion the size of golden bricks

Write away the morning
read away the night
“don’t do what is easy but do what is right”

Bodies of belief

I do not wither
inside bones and old skin
I do not shake
like mangled fingers on broken men

Bodies bend and twist
stir and deter
distract and attract
stand true in a life of few facts

Do I preserve my being
when I spill my pride?
Can I swallow what’s real
when there’s nowhere else to hide?

The truth inside
is often a body of lies
A lifelong reality
formed by the conviction of our eyes

Didn’t you know?

I know how you sleep
how you breathe
how tomorrow will be like yesterday
when we will no longer together grieve

I know how this will end
with only yesterday’s thoughts
promised for yesterday’s friends

I know how you shift and bend
accustomed to gift and trend
I know things will never mend
in this wretched game of pretend

Our slogans and voices are borrowed
from our oppressors
to express our sorrows

We will soon return the whips and megaphones
to their rightful owners
Our eyes no longer assured
happily on our knees
accepting of all decrees
our pigment no longer an allure

I know how you sleep
with both eyes closed
in warmth under blankets
with less and less to endure

I know how you sleep
how you dream of more
how projects are meant to be completed
resting sound and secure

Twelve-ounce tales

Lately I have sat
at the back of the bus
keeping a safe distance
from everyone that I must

they sit nearby
the stench of liquor and unwashed hair
the consequence of life passing without care
lingers in the air

I try not to look
but there they are
in couples and groups
alone and stooped
huddled like troops
stuck in their loop

On the way to and from work
from the park benches
days spent in the dark corners of bright summer
sanity wrenched from their heart
drowned in temporary solutions
of man-made parts

Half awake, they leave
stumbling over the silence of existence
stigma hovering on their seats
like the liquored breath upon their mouths
Most of the other passengers have moved away
without resistance

The bus keeps rolling
still life never ever seems to move forward
at the back of the bus




I do not trust
I cannot trust
I will not trust
I must not trust

I must dust off rust
I should shake off lust
I will wipe away the crust
my whole life on the cusp

This life is a must
to this life I must adjust
before I forever combust
existence wholesale and unjust

I return in turn
interred I burn
churned into an urn
existing to be spurned

I cannot discern
my belief from the gullible
the hatred for the lovable
the good from the culpable

The distance from the touchable
the source from the multiple
the necessary from the destructible
the organized from the dysfunctional

I must not trust
I will not trust
I cannot trust
I do not trust


Pick riches from a bed of stale whispers
reaching for the sights of sound
the music around my ears is beauty in the unknown
listening for how far we have come
seeing how we have grown on our own

Thunder shatters through the prods of silence
since sparse are the words of summer’s groves
rising through the earth in blistering quiet
the imprints upon leaves in a lifetime
do not appear in a day

We are built upon ruins
created inside crevices left by the hands of the past
the earth will one day say our names in vain
rain from the sky will drench our being
overwhelming us away without a word

The way of words

They no longer come bursting
from the depths of my heart
The words only seep from my skin
trickling onto you
The parts of us without assembly
in our ways so worn down thin

I layer our crudity
design the day
with affectionate displays
destined for impunity

I face us with no remorse
no tatters in my will
no matters unfulfilled
nothing but forgotten fury and force

They must bring grace
an escape without movement
from despair and confinement

Our stars are out of alignment
to you, I sign away my night
sleeping tightly underneath my skin
leaking the dreamy words I might