Palm Poem

red will love whoever is around,

the steal toe boots of anxiety

carry jealousy jamming toast at 5am,

fear lives with John Brown in Oregon park,

blue borrowed a few more to compose clarity in minor

chords, peach pink sky sings the sunset away, sizzling

to mourn the frying night,                                                  (                       )

truth tastes sour in song,

i am sure you know what i mean

A Lesson About Gossip

I’m clutching my pillow

Climbing the latter to your roof

Stabbing my pillow and staring.

What I naturally see…


carried away    into the wind.

Now I know

if you were told

to gather every feather,

that bled in mist from my pillow, that

you would claim naturally

the cause to be lost.

And this doubt,

is the image of gossip

living only

as it must

the cool school

i will let my mind pretend for you,

pretending will take whatever

Sever lever

I better have

Met her


you labeled me with bait for 

it to be easy. i will dress like

a girl before going to war

Get you for

What no more        now poor

Are you         sore morning

Hangover     is gonna suck for

You.       Bore me.

Now let me for once sleep

The side walk has vacancy in hell

Look door ass hit out way please

The only ears willing to ease is

The disease to soon cease you

After that weep all you like

Take a hike   chippy dip shit yeah like

Split! Had it!!!

she never talked to me again.

Sophisticated Vegetable Bandits

my apologies fatigued are weakened

muscles, pretending embrace with the

cattle raids.

the trilogy forgetting the lens of

how i say, how i think inward

and fragile content.

the respect of tomorrows goals

go failed under burning eyelids, no one will

know what i say, the words

of treasury forgive the demand

yet again.

so let us not forget with the reeling

reality spaced together. the crave

is soft, images still devour

the lost connectivity, my forgotten

sentences in time come undone.

today he wishes me well, to wring

dry towels of such salty sweat.

the symbolic season has called

to hang the jury, the forgotten

boy who has faith will burn.

these pages are a spirit cancer, the

weather forecasts via the voice of t.v. dread,

the rain so lonely and pathetic.

this man wishes well the thief,

the maker of wrongly brave doing and

bitter decision, both completely

forgotten in time.

the paint of this mess writes

the script for the invisible face,

the varied chances of tried aspect.

the only wish to forget again

i must.

may i forever roll a bunk fag

for a god that inhibits.

i have baked all of my friends

inside sweet life’s chocolate lie.


I have the gun to load

for the transparent mark among sore limbs,

I have the shake of earthquake thought.

Meaning, lost for the lovely western young sake of abstraction

catches cancer with a lumpy fright.

At 4am she claims we’re not drunk anymore,

frustrated again she’s suddenly lonesome,

walking home.

The drip drops of rain rinse glitter from her face,

The ash of her cigarette falling between her fingers,

Stilling peace with sweetheart words forgotten.

My decision,

Put my heart on the summit.

The fake laugh I hear from passengers inside

this shaken shuttle of truth!

More psychotic than I expected, so much

More truth that I must admit

Stilling peace with a violent covered riot face,

How much I haunt the answer now.

The mistakes laying dead around my battlefield porch

Keep a graceful beam of choice reflection.

I keep on decoding numbness,

Chaotic messages to place under my servants’ skin.

Pictures in the mind of valleys run bright

Throughout the inner sun, the visual soundtrack

For the majority calmly hearing our experimental formations.

From the beautiful face,

Real validation for the weekend goes suited,

To stop a lonesome label,

Of positivity refused.

I do not know where or when to stop,

Or if I should start to speak about this

And/or that.

I wonder if I should start to speak at all.

You cannot

blame me.

I know half of your daily anger

is from the answer

to that very question.