Posted in life, love, Parenting, Parenting and Poetry, Poetry

New Wings

Annoyed sighs

arrhythmic stomps

eye rolls

and snarky commentary

that leans toward


Defensiveness, awkward insecurity –

Ooh, attitude.

Confusion and changes, changes.

Outward bravado

masks inner vulnerabilities
[that give way to strength]

self-expression reduced to

code words, shorthand

and random dance moves.

And still,

a middle-of-the-road beauty

about it all –

Shrugging off the protective cocoon of childhood,

Growing swiftly into new wings.

But in the meantime, tempered outbursts

and shy laughter.


Passengers, we’ve reached adolescence.
You are now free to fly
to your destiny;

Aloft, as you flutter by…

I’m just along for the ride.


Posted in life, Poetry, Random

Unillustrated Comicstrip


I was saying –
You know what, forget it.
Because I did. Forget…it.
What was it, again?

I don’t know, you didn’t –
Well, we were talking about ย  ย  ย  …

Right! Wait, that wasn’t…it.
It was…

Hmm. What was it?

I don’t know.
I guess we’ll never know

what it was.

Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth

Fire With Fire

I lit my lighter
to fight fire with fire…
Only the cherries
remain extinguished
and I struggle
to distinguish
between fear, fantasy, and fun –
and the reality I
seek solace from.

Can’t hide forever,
wish though that I never
encountered the anti-good,
destroyer of innocence
ruination of childhood.

If only
my thoughts would stop
their uncouth amalgam of flop,
if I could just get past
my present
where it teeters on the cusp
of future life, barely within grasp –

Then I’d never have memories
of worry and strife;
Then again, I’d never
have discovered the pleasures
of life.

Still, what I wouldn’t willingly give
to detach from knowing
and knowledge
and to simply just


Posted in life, Parenting, Parenting and Poetry, Poems to my children, Poetry

Tainted Legacy

Running hard and
pounding pavements –
trying to escape my roots;
Damaged, ultimately tainted.
Who wouldn’t,
Mom’s a basketcase;
Dad an alcoholic
to boot?

I have no friends.

I can’t talk to them;
And not because
that door’s not open…
Moreso because
I don’t want to be like them,
and yet somehow still –
I’m hopin’…

Things will change.
I tell myself this;
Not sure at this point if
I really believe it
or my forced ignorance
unhindered bliss.

I still have my kids to raise
and wondering if they feel
the same ways
about me…
Keeps me up
for days.

I can’t help
but surmise
that maybe
I’ve fucked this all up…

Lateness of the night
as decided by fireflies –
While they sleep,
I refill my cup.
It’s only insomnia…right?

In a tumbler
or two, maybe three…
Solitude is dangerous,
it don’t give us
Us free.

It hurts to consider
I’m much like my parents,
selfish and bitter
Unable to stare “it”
in its eyes –
Never once have I really
been good at goodbyes.

But today is its own change,
though I know that seems strange –
One day my children
will explore untapped wilderness
of lonely desperation;
Unrepressed, raw, and deranged.

I can only hope
what they find in those
are [the] refrains needed
to overcome,
rather than to simply just

I’m running, I’m sweating,
I’m hot as hell…
Harder and faster,
and faster, still –
toward all my bullshit,
it all rolls downhill…
an unlikely avalanche
of censorial guilt.

Welcome to the house
that my pain built.

I’m moving up, rising above;
All I can think to do
is pour into them
all my patience
and unconditional love.

Legacy is cyclical,
generation(s) of ritual
branded into us
with blood, and also, victuals.

Bones only hold the tired,
quiet as that’s kept…
Small wonders my father and mother
ever truly slept.

Posted in life, New Work, Poetry

Buzzed Whimsy (Liquor)

In all honesty,
I can’t handle
my liquor –

Even in pure consciousness
as clouded understanding
grows thicker…

There are no meatballs
in these forecasts;
Even substantial chunks of logic
haul themselves up
at half-mast.

Laughter resonates,
fuel for thought pilots
of hopeless bombast.

Free as finality,
so they say,
free at last,
bright as the day.

And I…
Release all
that’s not worthwhile –
even admittedly, I smile
much less ;
anyway, smiles don’t last…

Not in wherewithal.

I do my best
but only because
someone has to heed the(se) lessons
of gratitude, humility –

Ignorance of bliss.

Found my humanity
on predestined crash course –

And…I like my highness
without a horse,

More so than I do
the buzzed whimsy
of lonesome remorse.

Posted in life, New Work, Poetry

Habitual Atonement

When the world’s all wobbly,
life seems on an even keel –
But that’s only when logic’s
not a high factor,
and I’m operating by feel.

I wonder if rum
or even wine
will be my downfall;
Because after multiple shots
and glasses,
I’m pleasantly numb…

It’s hard to answer the call(s)
of obligation
and happenstance
as they
occur to the dumb.

Yet, I succumb, and…
I think I never
had a chance
at normalcy
or finding belong;

It’s like life is a prelude,
death its fateful song –
Tipsy even as
I write this,
and not even sobriety
can right this.

Coconut oil my cleansing balm;
I only wonder if I’ve been doing this
completely wrong –

Only time will tell,
its passing
and measuring judgment
is an uncertain level of Hell.

I miss the time where
perceived right
was acceptable escutcheon –

And yet…

It’s my atonement
habitual repugnance.