Poison’s Touch

Breathe a sweet ardor

travels inside mind’s eye,

wishful, wistful, desire fleeting,

a want speaks of love, what we know

sometimes not the same,

what we will

could then become

what we are

when the shadows disappear,

the shades are drawn,

an empty glass display case

shatters in the quiet night of our reckoning.


That’s when the real of the world

becomes a sliding reel of memory

wanting to hold court only with our brief respite of


So ill-begotten is the pleasure of agenda,

when still in the mind,

our hopes – perhaps simple dreams – an envy

tears apart any fabric of imagination

that makes allowance

alabaster’s human condition.


When then I spent a day with a powerful dream,

that which fed,

nourished my need,

well might my vulnerable soul,

that I choose to splay in the public eye,

might that demeanor,

suddenly have at its doorstep

a loss,

a wake of impassioned victory,

that the poisonous quill of insanity,

draws away our inner peace,

eats away,

devours any sense of reality –

might we then whither away,

yet no peace.

Jealous Streak

Walking in public

I will follow the man on the corner

In the linens I cannot define

Carrying his briefcase

Shoulder bag

Satchel that seems to fit fine

And my mind will race

Trying to define

Who I am while his stride moves forward

What will I achieve

With this intensity

Because that’s what it is

Every person I encounter

Will sap my energy

And before I can say hello

I’ve already made my exit

Not physically of course

But that mental awareness

That numbs to the moment

What rationale causes me to feel spite

When I see a material weapon

A flaunting reality of a world I cannot touch

What creates my need to abandon

Who it is I am today

Why is it when I look at a television

The illusion I observe becomes the nature of my envy

Just when I feel ok with who I am

I realize how boring I might really be

Despite all the love

Beyond the compassion

Away from any recognized reality

I will instead refute

By my own neglect

The beauty of my human condition

And how just by having eyes open

I can be a contributor to those around me

Why is it then I feel darkness

A shouting match filled with vitriolic


the traveling fraud

Not really so bad

Only not enough

Only this

Lonely identity fitting of the man on the street