My first Coup

Brooding, moody, thinking-he's walking.Fading, somewhat jaded-yet aspiring.Perspiring, sees looting- then a shooting.Rioting, shouting, touting loudly-a creed.Talking, focusing, red light on-you see?Reporting, covering, disbelieving-people bleed.Firing, running, still holding-shaking lens.Slipping, gasping-camera man is dead.


There once was a man who would beBlind when seeing the seaCaught in quite the cooky conundrumHe wanders the woods like Paul Bunyan His glazed eyes lock with a lyrical LarkSo he tip toes over the rocks and falls in the dark.He stumbles mumbling across the creekQuestioning the quandary of why he’s a freak. Rough hands come … Continue reading Freak

Drunk Poet

I wanted to drink you a poem, but I’ve had too much to write I can’t remember the song to the words, and sure as hell can’t rhyme I’m losing your grasp on reality, as if I had any grip-to begin… Besides, the Lord says being drunk is a sin, but he’ll just have to … Continue reading Drunk Poet

The Emotionally Challenged Doorknob

I found this in my journal. In college, a writing professor challenged us to write a poem about a doorknob. Now, imagine yourself as this doorknob while you read it."I see you as you rush around disregarding me. It angers me you keep me locked inside your abode. You zip around and I frown knowing … Continue reading The Emotionally Challenged Doorknob