Walking to Lacrosse Games

The horrifying headlines on my electronic device don't coincide with the stillness of the creek that I walk beside as I spy two fresh lovers. Grazing shoulders and twining fingers, locking eyes holding smiles, as another suspect is found in the Panama City rape trial

The Wild Web


It's amusing to watch people of all ages jaw like ornery old men. It doesn't seem to be of any concern how unlikely the theme of discussion. I've seen the sexes square off about feminism. I've seen gear heads debate the nature of their displacement. I've seen the attack ads on adolescents that aren't ready for the spotlight. The salesman in the side bar has even given me hankerings for a Hot Pocket. If unchecked these colorful cabinets of information and arguments will start to create an illusion of life. But the pixels on a TV are different than the lights in Times Square. That's why every week I pick out moments to unplug. I sit under a tree. I study its lines and limbs. For all it's age of weathered seasons, not a single bicker is heard among its branches.


Coffee Stained Phone Bill

I'm pining in Limbo. 

Becoming derecpit and swollen in the damning Vestibule. 

Scintillating, squirmy memories of goey boredom that laminated me with a spackle brush; and happiness that came and went so quickly,

it should have been sold to me in a bottle. 

Cigarettes and college jerseys cleave to my naps like a fitted sheet.

Sleep, big woman,

sleep away your worries for your tinkling, cocaine babies.

Sleep little man.

Rub your nose on your corduroy pants.

Do your duty, child.

Lock and load.

Do not tear your tongue away from the window of the bus. 

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Trial by Media

Mourning for a loss long gone,
The shadows collect dust.
While progress stagnates a nation;
Holding its breath under water,
Too afraid to rise and inhale,
They’re going under.

No circumstances can revoke the true calling,
Born to power, though none have fared to be the example.
A pedestal crumbling at its very foundation,
Old world opinion dressed in new linen.
The pirates and plunderers are now completely grounded,
With man-made rules trapping their exploitations.

No facts will remain, but the scandal’s a winner,
No need for the lynching when there’s a trial by media.
Watch the fall of an empire by satellite,
With a television screen and blotted rag paper.

misguided by media

we call them savages
they call themselves warriors
we call them terrorist
they call themselves martyrs
we call them soilders
they call us murderers
we call them uncivilized
they call it culture!

everyone judges people from one side
without the thought the media lied
seeing everone as the enemy
ignorent and blind people is all i see
relaying messages from our twisted leaders
playing on the t.v. or your radio speakers
over exagerated news reports
making news more interesting the story distorts
sturing people into a fear indused frenzy
over every little overseas war discrempasy

feeding you lies
turn on your t.v.
brainwashing your eyes
now you cant see
force feed you shit
radio induced zombie
taking away your wit
that is not me! 

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