Pictures in Storybooks (a poem)

The certainty of seeing your face
When I arrived in the hidden place
Was gone forever in a split-second
Head down on the table like
You were sleeping, an eternal rest
Great sadness in the center of my chest

Those days are gone now
Pictures in storybooks
Cemented in my mind’s eye
No need to cry any longer
Your spirit is forever with me

(Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels)

Sinkhole (a poem)

I’m the type of person who puts my entire heart into everything I do

Love pours out from me like a tipped over water glass

Drenching everything on the map in front of me

Lines get blurred, everything mixes together

All aspects of my life live in harmony

Until the day that a sinkhole appears

The water rushes away from all areas of the map

And vanishes into this black abyss

Leaving only my tears to water to the desert my life

(Photo by Eric Muhr on Unsplash)

Painstaking (a poem)

I’ve taken painstaking care

to avoid this moment

when the hot solar flares

take away my chance at atonement

for the crimes I’ve committed

& the lovers I’ve lost

for the criminals I’ve acquitted

& the innocent lives it cost

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Highway of Existence (a poem)

my body, dissolved in acid

is a fitting way for life’s end

terminate the contract of

my earthly stay

amid the desert landscape

if you must

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Scarred Heart (a poem)

my fragile heart

cannot bear this world –

my heart is hard, scarred

after witnessing breaks of

societal conduct

street-rioters that make me

want to flee

to calmer colony planets

in sci-fi futures

where utopian dreams

are realized & we live up

to our potentials

(Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash)

Scarecrow (a poem)

the filthy-bearded man greets me

at six a.m., looking for a friend

he speaks gibberish, not knowing

where he is, how he arrived

at my steps, as i step back

he’s unmasked, skinny like an

old, crusted scarecrow with

scared eyes and smeared jeans

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Broad Daylight Demons (a poem)

a Black man has been slaughtered, again

shot like a dog, in front of family

did you see? it was broadcast

to millions of eyeballs

he suffered from bipolar

a disorder i share with this

now-deceased man

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Family Tree (a poem)

There are ghosts in my family –

I realize this as my mother tells tales

of a biological grandfather I never knew

who blew smoke in my face

when I was two

of years my father spent in jail

of anxiety that permeates

the family tree, which is

diseased & hollowed

about to crumple & topple

into grayish dirt

(Photo by Dikaseva on Unsplash)