Let It Go

Can you blame me for this?
I know it’s my fault
But fault is infinite
And impossible to solve

So let that go then
Let it not be the last
We spoke our piece each
But no peace has amassed

So don’t take it with you
as you run from this trial
for if you go on laying blame
you’ll lose yourself in denial

And I in my own right
Will just move on after awhile


Beware My Heart

The only heart I’ve ever known
My only constant truth
Is that this heart is black and bruised
Locked up and anger-infused
All because of you.

And if you cared or ever dared
To give me an excuse
You’d learn that I’ve gone cold inside
All hope for love or peace denied
And all romance refused.

As days have passed and time elapsed
Still reign my heart’s issues
That no man again may give me pain
And so I wallow in endless rain
In this prison that I choose.

So be wary if you take aim
And tread in tougher shoes
For I still hold that none less so bold
May ever chance to weather this cold
And at end, only ever lose.

A Bed of Lonely

Luck be a lady
Fate be my friend
Give me a warning
of how this will end

I’ve made my bed such
and must lie in its wake
So forgive me my greed
as I give not what I take

The error is my own
and I’ll pay for such pain
Cuz I’ve given up another
and lonely still remain


Thoughtful is as a thought is.
If it’s thoughtless then who’d miss this?
Is this thoughtful then, and honest,
or more thoughtlessness in solace?

The thought being given makes it
by definition thoughtful.
Or then at least thought-partial,
partially thought not unsubstantial.

Deeper in thought still wander,
and think of thoughts to ponder,
which make long pauses longer,
for thoughts longing along.

And so thinkers and thoughters
sit thoughting on one another,
while this thought-un-ful other
Remains thoughtless all along.

Great White

Drawing           out           in           open           waters
the          drawn          out          empty          words.

No       amount       of       mind       or       muscle
could      save      you      from      the      thirst.

Only     listen     in     those     great     places
as        the        open        circles        close.

And when  you see  form in  the spaces
hit it square on the nose.


How canst be that which doesn’t end
But roughs it out with reverend
And breaks you down where you can’t mend
But remains always bruised and blackened

How came that horror here abound
That silent sight and sickened sound
With rough touch shoves a shudder round
And tears you from end to end