Category Archives: My Poetry

The water drove you mad

We spent the summer by the sea getting lost
in the crowded sand and shells that stuck to crest of
the oceans bottom.

Your hand barely touched mine, but I could hear its desire in the way you said
my name.

You said you didn’t mind the waves,
but your eyes looked lost as you watched them dance
back and forth beneath the
pallid sky and sun.

I saw the sun hold hands with the ground today,
you said it was only my imagination, but
your eyes looked jealous as you saw my fingers
grasping for the beams of light that were catching in the water.

You told me you never wanted to leave.
But I knew it was a lie…
You were afraid of the oceans madness,
wishing you could control it with your hands.
Maybe that is why you sat on the shore
Clenching the sand in your fist,
the water drove you mad.

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Night is sleeping.

There the city lay
murmuring its lullaby
into the night

Starlight marries the darkness.
Evenings song
takes flight.

Sing bird, Sing!
Let the cathedral bells
hear your soft caress

Gleam bird, Gleam!
Serenading the ground
with a hymn, you bless

The city sleeps
lurred by nights
quiescent song.

The city sleeps
as evenings lure
awakens the dawn.

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October is the coldest month

“You rode your bike to the old diner. You didn’t mean for there to be,but a full moon
was out to light your way.
Maybe your eyes knew, and that’s why they noticed for the first time how alive the
earth looked as you moved over it. Beside it. Through it.
Maybe your lungs knew, and that’s why they breathed in a little deeper
the fall air filled with city lights.
Maybe your mouth knew. And that’s why it spread itself into that rare smile
for the world to see one last time.
You calmly got off your bike and chained it to the rack. I wasn’t even there
but every time I close my eyes, I can see you drown.”

(photo courtesy: Salveo)


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A sad little thing.

The other day I was looking through some of my old art journals and as I was scanning their pages, a torn piece of paper slipped out of the journal and fell onto my lap. The writing was barely discernible, but I found this little poem etched in ink. For awhile I couldn’t remember the inspiration for writing the poem, but I finally remembered: I had been sitting in a crowded coffee shop reading. Out of the blew, in my mind, I had a very vivid and intense picture of a baby still in its mothers womb. I knew the parents had decided to abort the baby, and the baby only had a few more hours to live. This mental picture had a strong effect on me so in the middle of the crowded room, I quickly grabbed a piece of paper and etched down these words. The poem is abrupt and disconnect, but I’m going to keep it in its original form and not mess with it.

Sinking into a blank oblivion
amidst the hum of sub conscience.
Purposeful drifting, trying to forget
the pain of knowing

Knowing you’ve forgotten
Knowing you’ve left me to fight on my own
Knowing you aren’t beside me
Knowing your purposeful neglect.

Consigning yourself to oblivion,
you watch me fall
drop by drop
from memory, forever
omitted from your wide shut eye.

Build me a home in this blackness,
where forgetting comes easy
where time runs in circles,
this darkness where I belong.
Leave me in the numbness of thought
Let me forget the


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Desperations Fleeting Hope

When I close my eyes,
Their faces I see.
Burning into mine.
Nameless faces,
Haunting me.

Images of past
Images still yet to be,
Images tangible in my visions eye,
Burning so deeply,
Consuming me.

Faces of children;
Boys, little girls.
Their eyes scream at me
Staring, so deep into mine.

As time ticks by, their cries I hear
It echoes through my soul
Echoes of torment, despair.
Echoes of searching.
Echoes of desperations
Fleeting hope.

Even when I dream,
I see them standing there,
Their blood stained skin screaming


How do I live in the tension
Of my soul and body?
How do I hear and see their cries,
Yet remain the same?

How do you live, when deaths stench reeks through the streets?
How do you walk on blindly, when their eyes you have met?
How do I eat, when I’ve heard starvations screams?
How can I sleep when I know they sell their bodies for another mans debt?

Their screams may not be tangible,
To me as I live half way across the globe,
Yet forever branded is my memory.
Forever seared is my perception of mankind.

Ruined. I am ruined.
Their eyes stare so
Deep into my soul,

Ruined. I am ruined
Their cries scream at me,
such deep resounding in my soul.

They are real.
Not a figment of emotions dream.
No…they are real
Faces tangible, cries audibly

The earth goes on spinning,
Their cries resound throughout histories time.
The earth goes on spinning.
A living hell, their souls lay

We go on walking blindly
to the blood stained tyranny
That screams.
We go on walking blindly
Turning a deaf ear
To the screams of
Injustices living corpse


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Eyes Burning.

Words burn deep within
Like scattered thoughts
On a restless day
Unrecognized. Yet,
Evidently apparent

Words in the soul of the thought
Express themselves so quietly
Behind that quizzical brow.
Expressed in the dark
Your determined gaze,
The words form

Word – deep thought
Why don’t you speak?
Dare to utter
The sound of meaning.

Sometimes I think I hear you
Speaking so soft.
Yet, your mouth remains closed
Eyes burning.

Words stay restless
Behind your eyes.
Does fear hold back the
Thoughts of soul?

Or maybe words cannot
Express that which
Lives behind your eyes.

The eye is the doorway
To the soul.
So stare deep into words listless

Stare O stranger,
Let me hear
the murmuring of your soul.

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Let my madness be my joy.

I was studying Economics (quite a dreary subject, if you ask me) and I couldn’t seem to focus. My mind kept doodling words and I kept hearing this poem in my head, so I scribbled it out on my economic notes and this is what came out:

The world may call me mad,

but let madness be my joy,

If my madness is an anchor

and by it all foolishness destroyed.

The world may spurn my anguish,

the anguish that burns for Thee,

Yet may my anguish intensify

that my eyes may clearly see.

The world may mock and persecute

my intense visions stare,

yet my stare will ever increase,

till face to face I fare.

For life is not worth living

if you’re too afraid to die,

Dreams aren’t worth making

unless you wake  and try.

Flying is not worth trying

unless we reach to touch the sky,

and Love is not worth giving,

if we’re too afraid to cry.

Therefore, Oh Madness,

you, I will not fear.

Into Life’s gaping presence,

I willing will peer.


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