Poetry

I am drunk

I AM DRUNK I am drunk with the idea of love. She, Aphrodite, inspires, perspires transcribes the very essences of me. I follow, beg to wallow in the very cunning heart of her. Yet, she deigns to allow me entrance, to entrance her very essence. Her womanhood, her cunning heart, her enchanting aroma that calls,…

Meaning Too

MEANING TOO Meaning is as Meaning does. It becomes. It grows. It evokes. Like the pain that behind it is. It flourishes in the corners of the mind like a dark flower at midnight, like a wee seed growing, ever growing into possibilities. It becomes germane like a crystal ever forming. One small grain that…

Meaning

MEANING Meaning is as Meaning does. Purpose is as Purpose does. Or, does Meaning direct Purpose, Or, does Purpose direct Meaning or are they enshrined in a Moebius Strip, ever one leading to the other and back again. I know not. I just know that one can not exist without the other. Existence makes purpose,…

I Flunked Suicide. Now What?

I FLUNKED SUICIDE, NOW WHAT? Waiting in the wings of life I pause, Consider briefly The meaning, and the answers awaiting. Take a step, then two, then three, as I stumble out upon the Stage that is Life. Toward some unknown unknowing, shimmering dream to be made real but only if I follow the Path…

The Clock Ticks

I just received a piece of writing advice: “You can’t think your way out of a writing problem, you need to write your way out of a thinking problem.” Herewith submitted for your approval the poem that resulted from that advice.   The clock ticks. Counting away the seconds Till the end of me and…