Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

as you arrange dead flowers

i’ve painted all of it
on the ceiling of the library dome in alexandria
to study the profane scope

better understanding the history
the higher i ascend
through falling ashes

this is what i know

my interpretation of the pattern

you only acknowledge the sacred
as you seek to destroy it

you’re sick

you take such pride in your trophies
heads mounted on the wall
all wearing your mother’s pearls

the manner in which your
opossum eyes delight
in fresh kill

wax romantic about your bloody left hand
as you arrange dead flowers

i’m impervious ever since
you gouged out my ability
to experience pathos

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

together in the mess

what are we guilty of, my friend?

of wanting someone to live our lives with
in exquisite happiness

yet during the quest
we fell prey
to a cunning devil with two heads

false god
who idolizes cult leaders
and genocide-eyed maniacs
loving everything to its
well choreographed death

such a fine male specimen
puffed up chest
colorful feathers and phrases
the lure of a nest

but by the time he’s done with us
we all look just like his mother
in her funeral dress

and he
a fool hung from a tarot card
painstakingly oblivious
a perpetual hapless victim

his lies make the knowing angels gag in heaven
as minions of the compromised willing
knit him bullet proof vests

we are left


stronger than the low hanging fruit
in whose flesh
he’d left his teeth behind
embedded in the past

too intelligent and strong willed to succumb
to his blues man dirge
my best guess

yet i am left with the concrete knowledge
that you are a gift

you and your friendship
are beautiful things
that came
from a blackened this

perhaps the age of our sons made us fight harder
against the rope lashed about our wrists

i don’t care who else believes it

we have another day of life to show for it

and this shared survival
sitting between us

let’s have a shot of whiskey on it
and leave
irreverently joined
glass rings
for others to find

when they open the trunk
and realize

two women survived
a doomed ship
stowed away
together in the mess

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends


it’s like watching someone live their life
trapped within
the black and white terror
of a hitchcock film

where without fail
every six months
the madness returns

so he puts on a dress and wig

sharpens his knife

then finds a way to become both
his mother
and the screaming
chocolate sauce covered
victim in the shower

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

all before lunch

dog (wake up, human)
eyes open
the softness of pillows
avoid phone
bathroom ritual
vomit (prolley the bourbon and steak last night)
social media but no status update
vomit (unrelated to social media, made the cafe bustelo a tad too strong)
alka seltzer
dog (mandatory fetch playing)
cook a proper breakfast for the house
morning news
avoid phone
vomit (morning news inspired)
mediate teenage territory skirmish
dog (walk)
irish creme
avoid phone
kitties (aloof, conspiratory)
wrote this poem
still no status update (the world has gone mad)
all before lunch


sleepy mausoleum streets

father’s day
is the homecoming dance
for this grown woman
made from herringbone brick
daddy issues

a wedding march return
deliberately stepped
to beethoven’s violent concerto for violin
toward the white columned mansion
along walkways
of gray flagstone facts

the gossamer temple of my dysfunction
surrounded by iron lace gates

fences drooping
with blood red azalea intentions

a corsage of deceptive bougainvillea
climbs my wrist

wearing a gown
made from the transparent fabric
of a penchant for older men

who hail from anywhere but my garden district

chosen out of a police station line up
in the irish channel

my ill fated princes and usual suspects
who were crepe myrtle framed

not one of whom turned into my father

swaying priests
clever pimps
and common thieves

even a shoe salesman
who was 17 and finding reasons
to touch the ladies’ thighs
whilst i was existing
in a new world elsewhere
still cutting my baby teeth

i’ve grown tired of their flowers
and the scent of poorly masked death

two people fit uncomfortably in a casket

time has given me an alternative
housed within clean lines and reason

but occasionally
wearing a veil of futility
horse drawn thoughts

return to the beautiful south

ken burns following behind me
filming a sepia toned documentary

about the brutal unreality
of it’s sleepy mausoleum streets

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the pictures inside my locket weep

the first hard lesson
life had to teach me
was death

the way failure looked in a bronze casket

somewhere around sophomore year
my naivete decided the opposite of dying
was the crescendo of falling in love

and i’ve been doing it regularly ever since

but no matter how many elevators i ride up
to rose petal scattered penthouse suites

my father is still dead

and i will always have a reason to leave

a place to be early in the morning

until my grave decides it is tired of waiting

the pictures inside my locket weep



you love(d) me well and often

in that sick
bottomless way
you love everything

in order to lose it

you force your horses to run into the round pen
then set it on fire

just so you can write a mournful poem
about the sounds of their wailing agony

i don’t miss you

i miss how i felt when i was with you

but see

i love a good horror story

and you were a real fucking scream

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

extreme measures

i wish to wrap you in a clean warm blanket
pulling your life into my arms
as my kisses
chase the anguish far from your brow
cleansing your blistered face with a cool cloth soaked in forgiving waters
wipe the hour glass sand from your hair
telling you it’s going to be okay
then shake the hell out of you
while screaming,
“Wake the fuck up and stop doing this shit!”
before you die
lost in this pattern
a man painting his life into a mirage

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

there are things i should know

if we are receptive to the mechanism
wisdom begins to define us
and the parameters we function within
as we age

i cannot deny
your existence is all together unlikely

a defiant day lily insisting upon rising above
the early spring snow

i’ve learned to pay no attention
as pablo’s smoke rises beneath my window

but there you are
orange crush inevitable

our eyes full of unwritten poems

the feel of your suit
a sensation insisting
there are things i should know

poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends


there is an old reel to reel memory

burned onto my psyche’s screen

of my fallen god

the father

throwing a planet sized

console television set out the front door

off the porch

and into the yard

in a fit of rage


eventually replaced by a larger zenith console tv

to erase the damage done


the scene horrified me for years

as his vengeance that night

could not be contained

by the red brick of the house


but as i bashed a $3oo cell phone

with a hammer

into the floor of a deserving verizon store

a warming contentment wrapped it’s arms around me


i realized i truly am my father’s daughter

and i loved him all the more for

the genetic ability

to shatter minds and electronics