25 February, 2011


This poem is from my "The Dim Light" collection, I hope you enjoy.


Only a beacon of light infiltrates
the manor in its own manner.
Scraps of a seized day are spread motionless,
they’re only faded reminders.
A gust of wind blindsides the candlestick
that carried a glimmer of hope.
Strung along as depleted mementos
of a long awaited daydream.

A ruse to abuse
with envious hues.
And gestures made to insure
that he remained insecure.
He gazed to the sky
with a question why.
It’s rude to exclude,
it changes the mood
and the time was brief that passed.
Entranced and enticed
whom felt sacrificed,
grief was the guilt that amassed.
It’s strange to follow
a heart so hollow.
He yearned a pit and dug it
crawled in deep, but didn’t fit.
He gazed to the sky
with a question why.

Only a beacon of light instigates
the manor in its own clamor.
Scraps of a seized day are spread from duress,
they’re only hated reminders.
A gust of wind blindsides a strange edict
that carries a glimmer to cope.
Strung along as depleted highs and lows
of a once inflated daydream.

18 February, 2011

Circular Firing Squad

This poem is one of several about my anger (don’t worry I contain it, well try my best to) it's from my "Gray Matters" collection. I hope you enjoy.

Circular Firing Squad

Deep underneath this flesh and bones dwells a vulture
Quite famished, looking to feed and willing to maim.
Ready to harm lies this wild, rampant animal
Mildly insane and unattainable to tame.

The passive years have harshly weakened the restraints,
But the hunger pains remain and have grown stronger.
Fighting the temptation consumes all of my strength
And I fear it won’t stay contained for much longer.

This anger burns fiercely
Boiling blood, flowing rush.
Perspiring profusely
Face flush with angered blush.

Prepared and scouring for any outlet, restless
Stalking with intentions to be a travesty.
A constant mountain mounting harder to control
One cannot foresee this monstrous catastrophe.

Anticipating the exact moment to flee
Don’t wake this inner beast to take what’s forsaken.
I don’t want to lose my sense of identity
This beast will feast on the weak once it’s awakened.

This anger burns fiercely
Boiling blood, flowing rush.
Perspiring profusely
Face flush with angered blush.

The darkness is slowly seeping out of my skin
All I’m able to do is keep my faith in God.
Acting on these impulses is the first downfall
Unleashed anger is a circular firing squad.

16 February, 2011

Were there books left out of the Bible?

Do you believe there were (or still are lying around somewhere) more books initially written, but never included in the Bible? I watched a show on the History Channel about this some time ago and was intrigued to learn (maybe true, maybe false) that there were several books left out including one by...Judas! I do believe there are (or were) more books intended to be included, but never made it in. The reasoning behind why they were not...an even better question. So what's your take?

10 February, 2011

Carpe Diem

No question this week I know, I know. This poem is from my "The Dim Light" collection...I hope it inspires, enjoy. 

Carpe Diem

Plenty of hypocrisy
which inflates so blatantly.
Oh what a sight it would be,
living through hypocrisy.

Enticing the quarters of ridicule
to transpire its whimsy attire.
Consummate the strength to end its long rule,
but acquire the ways to inspire.

Harbor these intimate nights
which extend tranquil insights.
Oh to see those few delights,
all the methodical nights.

Surge the frontier of your fortune
and sternly respond, but use empathy.
Embody yourself changed within
because frees comprised an anomaly.

Trounce on what image defies
a positive mind denies.
Oh that sight to see arise,
the oath dignity defies.

03 February, 2011

Acquainted Accomplice

This poem is an ode to my partner in crime...my pen and is from my "Gray Matters" collection, I hope you enjoy.

Acquainted Accomplice

My bleeding dagger staining a black trail
soothing therapy away from worry
my pen is my friend there for modest me,
together we’ll rise together we’ll fail.

My pen endures all my weird creations
my weapon of choice I choose to disperse
and quench my thirst for lyrical outbursts,
writing’s my addiction and medication.

My pen never leaves my side or complains
my poisonous weapon used to offend
and at times my pen is my only friend,
a comrade companioning my campaigns.

Pouring portions of myself through my pen
deep into the deepest burrows below
my soul is cleansed long ago of sorrow,
unlocking emotions never spoken.

I write with the ink of my blood.

01 February, 2011

Favorite Sport

This is kind of biased for me because I am in a bowling league and have been the last 2 years (plus 10 when I was younger). When I was young my favorite sport was probably a toss up between Baseball, Basketball and Football, but when you're actually in a league in changes your prospective. I love bowling (even though it gets frustrating at times) my team bowls on Monday nights and our team name (wait for it)..."University of Lebowski" a tribute to one of my favorite movies and movie characters of all time. How about you?