Thin Line Between Today N Tomorrow

“Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.” – Plath

A wizard, he hovered over the open gas can with…a well lit cigarette.

A ghost from summer’s past…she drove, as though, the heavens were on fire.

Believing destiny can out ride desire.

I cannot shove the madness aside.imageedit_4_9303855981

It is rock heavy with conceit.

Daily a witness to death defining acts.

I am punch drunk from insanity…

Even true love avoids the facts.

As I walk the only road…I have ever been down…

The one that is elusive… and as of yet, untold.

I watch, as my own inevitability protrudes.

Heading down into uncharted foliage.

So vast there is no looking  back…imageedit_5_7351757917

Life, death, is also avoid-ant of the facts.


It is a treacherous turn.

Danger…at every curve.

Something that only I am made of aware of.

But then again, only I need know.reality 2

That is just how reality goes.

Benign impediments on the bottom of a shoe.

Just bothersome enough to make the whole day un-glue.


Fear…No Choice

assorted i candy 4

Not a one comes to rake the leaves.

They appear to dissipate, naturally.

Not a one comes to hedge the stone.

The wreckage ascends, on its own.

To each,

the dimple to a wrinkle.

No right.

No wrong.




With mistakes in hand.

I know nothing will ever pan out,

as planned.


are my vain attempts to tow the line.


I fear no choice has ever been mine.

Not a one of my steps.

Not one provoked by my time.

The dew cups on my every hardened leaf.

And, soon, it is gone.

No right.

No wrong.



Commandment of Remorse



How best do I measure you?

Is your worthiness…

A cost for virtue?

Every trace of my being is laden with the commandment of  remorse.

Magnificent is the blood on the hands that intercept its due course.

How typical your response!

‘We all do things we are ashamed of!’

What is the heft to the callous fist of hate?

How much the price to impede fate?

Such is this weighty scale.

Thinking too much.

Or, not all.

Intuition’s downfall.

So little given to the limitless air.

When trading  in love for despair.

How much for a wicked deed?

Before it outgrows what forgiveness it needs.


Somebody’s Angel, Somebody’s Fool


somebody's angel 2

     Recently, I had discovered that an acquaintance of 
mine, took online quizzes, to understand herself better.  
Whoops, if I were completely honest, I knew she had the 
strange habit of cyberspace reaffirmation...I guess I had just chosen to ignore it.
     Course, there is nothing wrong with wanting to know,
was I, Napoleon Dynamite or Napoleon a 
former life?
somebody's angel 4
     However, my character 
defects are as blatant as the 
scowl on my cat's face at 
feeding time.  And, it is as of 
that I have truly embraced my 
gross behavior.  
     I suppose that it is out 
of fear, due to a recent 
surgery.  Or, more to the point, it is out of sheer 
boredom and a 'no choice but to think myself into mental jail' induced by pain medication, that I have these...
hourly reflections.
     I am gross!  I know it.  I spit into the wind.  I 
tend to laugh without an inside voice...too much in a 
quiet theater.  I share my ice cream with the dogs.  I cry 
when watching democratic debates.  And, I breakdown into 
hysterics...when watching republican debates.  
     And, it is a fact that...
     I have told my partner on 
numerous occasions if Susan Sarandon or Helen Mirren 
offered themselves to a biblical sense; that I    
would be late for dinner.
     Here's the thing...We are all vulnerable.  First and 
foremost, we guard our psyche with true valor and honor.  But love, the forever kind, does something to us.  It 
opens the door for me and/or us to face our faults and say,

'I don't care if she knows what my secrets are!'
 A lifelong love knows the answer to:

"When did Brenda and Eddy start going steady?"



     Therefore, it is also a fact that...
     My partner and her can of Lysol will always accept my 
burning incense of Patchouli!  
     Just the other day, Megan, had let it slip...the 
ultimate, you are the only one for me, statement...

"Did I tell you?  The whole month of September...I was 
pissed at you?  Can't even remember why!  'Kept ignoring 
your foolish shit.  Your bad singing!  You know...I had 
been pretending 
that I wasn't mad, but I was, but I wasn't!  No matter!  
You never figured it out.  So I just gave up...being mad, that is!"

     Every morning, since I have found that crutches and I do not mix, I look over at the 
Best Friend with and think...somebody's angel 3

"Thank Christ I am somebody's angel!"