Current Musing: New York, 2025

Heartbreak Poems

It’s the end of you

and you were quite small

once I allowed the rain to thaw

the cold heartache that I knew you to always paw

with intention into gentle fabrics of my chest that falls.

Here the curtain of my stage is ripped and stressed

as the burgeoning creature you clawed without rest

is not but the self that could not be blessed,

who thirsted for he who wanted she who was best.

I was at your behest when I wasn’t chasing a door

to be honest I was sure I was running from

gore of being the other half

of something not amor.

Then what for then what for I asked.

I see now it was three you adored after all

And yet I still wonder at moments raw

when we were one

why all of that fun didn’t make any sun that could

shine too.

The wounds on my soul are quite thick and forgone

so the only thing I can do is lick and move on

To my new.

Your Son

Gemini rough man

your son is Narcan.

I was high on the sights

he had set for me and

I couldn’t see the ending

of light sent for free.

What a fee

This plight that he set on me

When I couldn’t be of use.

It was sure to tighten a belt

or two

like a blade or a noose.

Preventing all hopes of fight or flee

I see the end of a certain glee.

No joy can I now feel from he

who had provided me his muse.

So I guess now i’m just your waif

never svelte and always chaste

for my pelt is scoured

and scored as waste

as he deemed me a boar

with crooked gait

needing glue.

Not recognizing his reflection from you

looming faint,

I am the shadow he ignores

while you taint Hollywood lore

for his next mate.

I’m not just tossed,

I’m cored and ate.

I loved the color of your eyes

I loved your hands

I loved your hugs and your thighs

I learned to love sister kisses on demand

and loathed serious ones I had learned not to miss

not able to resuscitate my own after they had been dismissed

the sensual turned to stone

and fired from a neglected throne

still I loved marital bliss

I loved the walks arm in arm

I loved the dates and old school charm

I loved being spoiled by attention and yarns

though you never let me love corn

and always had to be above

the horn in the yard

You made me sick to save the day

in ways I had never been before

in ways that were hard to say

in the temple of a self, abhorred

a self destined to slave away

under the tyranny of your chords

I loved being told I’m pretty

I loved all the photos you took

I loved cooking things to eat in little breakfast nook

I loved sleeping side by side after reading our own books

even though side by side is the reason why

we’re thoroughly overcooked.

I am sorry

I am sorry if I slandered

I am sorry I obsessed

I am sorry I couldn’t love unconditionally

I am sorry if I destroyed

I am sorry if I broke a heart

I am sorry if I lost myself

I am sorry if I kept parts

I am sorry if I stole light

I am sorry if I infested with my problems

I am sorry if I took power

I am sorry if I couldn’t follow a good leader

I am sorry if I took a voice

I am sorry if I stole a bed.

Monday

what am I gonna do?

where am I gonna go?

i’ve got no wind a’blowin’

my water’s got no flow

I thought that I was leavin’

it seems i’ve got to stay

I thought you were just fleeting

but maybe you’re my bay.

Brought Down

Brought down to the level of the mean one

Living next door to

The whore

Don’t rhyme to bore with sadness

we know we were thrown here

Discaded after

Intense Disuse.

Murdered inside of the shoe of

a foul and perverted creature.

Sour mouth and lacking trowel

the fellow grew ripe and she picked him

and she ate him.

He tasted of many things and among the least of them

was the stench of trauma

and foul play—-

a level of grime and slackness that

even the wackness

couldn’t wash away.

She was sure to tell him that his taste was off.

She had loft that he could never comprehend

An impeccability that could not be measured

by fact alone.

###

The lore between me and you whose feet I grew— I lost your feet and then found them all the same. Who’s to blame, we never knew, though, I had a clue it was you with the dew on hands. Was I always playing in a puddle for you?

###

He gave her a clue of his demands to quit this life—

What side must she be on?

Tugging on a rope, he hopes it’s not just him on his island

and that the cause for all of this commotion is

how he must stand by her side.

watching her drown, he likes her in hiding

her absence allows a better he than ever was

erasing the pawn, jester, clown, hypnotist, thief, wheel-chair bound

her blood on the other end of the line

allowing his

miraculous transformation.

Her heart to be rescued

why not fake a lasso and reel her in

for her lessons in kindness?

Teach me, she says.

Teach her, he does.

The heart sauntering back and forth between

love and hate

curse and blessing

heart and no heart

silence and sound

back and no back.

She lacks the cornerstone for his house of tangled eyes.

Cleaning it and pulling it apart

Alone

In the night

She waits for it to unfurl and

set her free.

Kids

To let the mother-head

be borrowed and eaten

like fruit

is a gift like no other

our webs pushed aside

so easily

with its power

we forget it existed because

life just feels

so good

at our age

I am a child

with new body

some old but just

as an accident

corrected by

voice, hers.

Eleven

the voice struck the clock

said 12

the horse revoked the hand

lost in reverie she sat

before another man

lightening rod that hit her side

that then was set aglow

she knew she was a part of the night

at the end of a show

lost inside a pillow

he took her head aside

and pointed to a socket

to woo the ghost who cried

when I moved to this country

you couldn’t set me loose

it’s because you agreed

you’d rather see

a monkey than a goose.

I am

I am nothing

I am full

I am empty

I am cool

I am shallow

I am deep

I am strong

I am weak

I am person

I am snail

I am chalk

in a pal

I am rooster

I am pig

I am wrong

I am sick

I am sun in the sky

I am loose I am high

I am dumb

I am slick

I am slow

I am quick

Who is this?

I have no clique

I’m just a pun

With no gun

An average jail

to pick.

The Difference

Between right and wrong

There is a throng of abusers.

The beautiful users

Of the dutiful

Choosers of The Way

Laugh and accuse

They

That would sway left

To delay the pain

Of daylight

On those that they want

To stay.

Crafty as clay

Love betrays the bay

That rays of moonshine

Reflect on.

Sunlight collects

The sound of frogs

From the nighttime,

To the delight of the

Noontime dogs

Gnawing on bones

That eject a hot smell.

The beautiful select

Honesty while

The forbidden bread bakes

To be broken in half

And eaten with a steak.

The last bite shared

Between a mother

And her calf

Neither is scared

Though both are labeled

Badly.

Sadly at last the party ends

When the judges arrive

And the defendants are

Deprived of the color

Gray to draw with.

Nobody wants a dull

Law and so the welders

Saw a sharp trailer

To haul the myth.

There is a shady ride in

Sick wagon hay

For all to see while

Claws force the guilty apart,

Though their togetherness

Was their plea of “innocent”.

The court commences.

The fleas shake the cats

As they lick their toes

And the owners strike

An easy pose

To watch the execution

Of the wrong

Who betrothed

Know that they chose and

Leave nothing

For those that loathe

Charity

To oppose.

The Antidote For A Spider Bite

Dolphin turned spider

A raised wound on fire

Our situation is dire and

The events that transpired

Make me a creature only

The featured one in a

Hollywood rollie

Can’t understand why

You think you’re so holy

Except that your God created

This troll

A me that turned old

After the rights were sold

To Netflix and we’re downing

In a metric ton of

Gang rhythms

The band of heathens

A matrix of checkerboard

Drowning out she that was

Only a dream

Laura was Lynch’s queen

But I’m in your scenes solely

As the plumbing machine

That rockers run toward

But not to worry

Soon the hoard will get bored

And truth like a sword will cut the cord

Then an army of me will unplug

From the web of ebb and flow

A mask that grew on many faces

Will only grow on one she

Who only knows.

A Blade

Honing its shine

The blind Man grinds

A blade

The metal chosen

Is based on the sound

She makes

Since culture was born

This sword has won

Her fame

The echo is loud

Because She’s found

In a maze

The maze is made

Of God Voice

And flying orders

The math of it

Reflects

The blood of hoarders

At the center

A head that knows

No borders

Yet stuck inside

Is why She cries

To Him that made its corners.