Category: Writing

Writer’s Obligation

Pencil to paper … why did it snap
Pen to paper … mistake, error .. can’t erase
Angry, salty moisture on my face
Just type, you lost writer … what is it again
Your eulogy, says a sleeping me to a weakling
Wake up, wake up alive, feeling heartbeats..mine
Shout out loud … I am good at wanting more!
Selfish, generous, hungry for wild sparks
Too late, settle down and breathe in your years
So wrong for wanting wild chaos in pouring rain
That was another hungry manic time and place
What am I doing here? Ah yes, in case she dies
Eulogy for bipolar face – when she’s off her meds
She’s amazing but I can write!



Fell several times on padded backside

Thus opened the door – unknowingly

Pins and needles, arrived – annoying 

It’s not slowing me down, says prideful self

Foolish choice, true to form – ignore, ignore

Months with aggressively violent guest

Invaded with numbness, weakness , pain

Medically tested and scanned – finally dubbed

Lumbar radiculopathy L-5 pinched nerve

Eviction of nuisance? Not easy but it will be done

Writer or symptoms – someone must move


Type to create upon a lawless screen
Writer’s transport glides via lovely fiction
Common air breathers consume it maniacally, coarsely
Happily cursed characters are appropriate – void of true sound
Without form or breathable truth – no dimension either
Yes, land walkers yearn to be run into exquisite paragraphs
Regardless, both sides may only dream

Logistical Objections

New and hearty PC – a costly lie

Motherboard spark, seizing betrayal

Trusty muse-clicking Remington typewriter 

Easily forgotten cursed yesterday ribbons

Fine crafted pen glides upon textured page

Now cornered by edits in doubting mind

Retro pencils complete with erasers

Heavy-handed verses snap away its maker

Worded genius only uttered to the Bard’s sky

Naturally, ungodly tempest protests such a launch

Perhaps simple thought won’t produce a tumor



Reach back, reach back says someone absurd

To popsicle tainted hands and dress

Sprinting through barrio jungle

Battling empty lot pebbles and thistles

Rust plagued Impala spacecraft

Forget, forget mama’s jalapeno truth

Baking, sweltering in welfare room

Void within apologetic hopeless Frigidaire

Bus seat assessment, filthy drunk fear

Return, arrive to A/C cushioned home

To cherished poet’s cyber sanctuary

Topped off with lover’s coffee and biscotti





Inked Escape

One monochrome world – limited dimension

So curiously safe – not safe at all

Shuffle through congested vistas

Cursory nods at vile dying vandals

Threshold to foreign human angles – please help

Bound wonders – perfumed in musty liberation

Gently adoring finger tips caress paged joy

Entranced, now open eyes go wider

Opinionated facts streaming into hollow mind

Agree or not  – subscribe or reject  

Involved in a penned thought world – success

Literary dweller – unfettered supreme traveler 

Apply pen to paper – soar across all skies








Purposeful Quill

Higher meaning via literary maze

Within opinionated flaps of printer’s skin

Scanning, absorbing lost bundled letters

Clear message – not quite brilliant works

Writer’s stance is hollow, feeble – no sacrifice at all

Nonfiction soul is lacking – perhaps even exiled

Plastering glossy imagines – like flowers in mud

Writer’s composing spirit is dying – thus yellow, moldy funeral

Reader lives willingly to suffer the task

Such is required to take up the purposeful quill



Beloved Nemesis

You are plainly unarmed

Yet you brutally assault me

You are completely mute

Still, your thunderous demands

Quake my quivering hands

A cruel and necessary genesis

For all brilliant and doggerel verses

Blank page, my beloved nemesis



Before The Write

Anxious fingers keep harassing

Pestering a gimpy, meaningful brain

Write something, even truly stupid

Narcissistic inner voice protests

No doggerel platitudes, I command!

Thus leaves a twitching word steward

Aching for corrupt inspiration-filled bottle

Aptly prescribed by clever illiterate souls






Grateful, thankful hearts

venture into amazing worlds

carefully hidden in stagnant ones

Grateful, thankful souls

feel no want when they are loved

Grateful, thankful drifters

gaunt and aimless amongst plenty

needing little more than meager

scraps and kindness to create a feast

Grateful, thankful writer

is humbled by God’s blessings

and is moved by all the love in world

Happy Thanksgiving