Bro Affections – a poem

Familial moments shared in alike mind

Give rise to deeper connections, depth

From old days, older thoughts, ancient

Memories which are yet so young, so very

Heavy, weighted and significant, ready

To at long last be cast awry aside.


The expressions resulting from dank

Years of repression born of oppression

Take too long for a moral mind to fathom,

To break through and throw off like chaff,

Wasteful and toxic byproducts settled

From explosions ages ago rent through life.


Trial of the days now come draws us

Inwardly to respective futures dreamt

Of in younger times when we wondered,

Wondered whereat if we would be past

All of this in some new place, space

Where we might finally move past strife.

Two Worlds – a poem

Unprepared, product of two worlds

And identified with neither, self

Assured not as yet for constraints,

Pressures which say one, ever and anon



T’other says nothing, only muses

Thereat of why there be duality

In what appears whole, strongly

Itself and not undone, without



Decisions of cultural identity

Made by blackmail into a play

On morality’s nature, over the

Top and hammed up, histrionics here


Grungelicious – a poem

Erotic, exotic, the first taste

As delicious as the last, intake

Of breath sharp, nerve bundles

Beneath the skin a synergy above

The grungelicious outer brim



Dreams cannot encompass the real

Taste, touch, tremor and tingle

Which sings of sussurrating harmony

In sweat slick sermons, the nip

Of jaws gently nibbling, tiny



The fire which living breathes

Is no neat thing, alive in heat

With an angelic core burning,

Soft that brings hardness, surround

In resonant hiccups, twin stars


Draw – a poem

Draw from me what you will,

Sky shall see all that lies

Beneath every layer, veins

And arterial flow pulse, throb,

Like rivers roaring, flood.


Draw upon what you need,

For your art and peace

So briefly enjoyed, cease

Shall I my interruptions

For your attentions, so dip.


Blood, the taste of iron,

Tang and salt bitterness

Roams the buds alight raw

As the drawn upon twitches

From a visceral flow left.

Painted World – a narrative poem

Into your snow painted world

I stalk, ‘neath high veils of stormy grey

In flux, hiding shadows, taller trees

Reach to claim a stranger, warning.


What waits here few mayst know

The tales, bar what be told by

Those harbingers of old doom

Speaking ever and anon nay.


“Hold, cutter!” calls a familiar

Voice vaunted, known of old to me

Like the caress of nails on spine

Vertebrae, nerves reacting, gently.


I hail you, alert and smiling here

In your very own painted world, of

High tree, dangerous skies looming;

We are a pair here amidst such art.


Why did you come here? What sought

You in this world of your design?

So many questions have I, yet no

Reason for coming do I say so on.


Soon on this walk to your high tower,

Soon I expect you to ask, but no

Questions come forth, only quiet talk

Of old wars, older homes, family members.


I will try, try hard to give you all

That you are fairly due for your great

Victories and loving soul; and walk

Slower, slower, postponing the blood

On ice.