These are my shorter works. Some of you may not consider them poetry; I don't consider all of them poetry, but here they are regardless.
Home
TOM'S
Red blue swoosh trip music.
Smoke curls around coffee
and crushed ice.
Wet floor yellow.
Blackberry happiness.
Marb lights and
unmatched silverware.
Yellow Jell-O.
Coffee cups and
cigarette butts.
Salty sugar and spit.
The world rainbows over
small town diners.
CONFERENCE
Cigarette spearmint- your mouth.
A comfortable kiss for curious hands.
Artificial night by curtains drawn.
Lethargic at best,
but awake enough to feel. To touch.
To live passionately.
A fleeting romance brushed away
as quickly as it began.
Two exquisite bodies side by side.
Sweet to say the least,
sweet to say the most.
3 AM
Hello, sleepless traveler.
You too were drawn here
by the feeble glow
within this darkened hovel.
Were it day, I would
not allow your presence.
However, at night you are
not so irritating.
Are you also looking for
a way to perfect your body?
There is nothing left to do.
I want better hair, a better smile,
better teeth, the works.
You want... what?
You want the light.
Excuse me, you're covering
the ninth way to flatter abs.
Thank you.
Stay awhile and rest your
tired body.
Allow me to introduce myself.
I am the most imperfect
human being you will ever
encounter.
Don't hate me for it.
My appearance is
average at its very best
and my personality
does not make up for it.
I want to be better
because I want to be
loved.
And now where are you
off to, my winged
friend?
Perhaps I, too, should
find a new
destination.
I BLASPHEME
How you so holily preach at me.
My ears close to your religious jargon.
Spare me from your contemporary
approach to an ancient series of events.
More educated is the mind that
chooses not to believe.
To live by ones own devices and not
to seek a higher power.
Choose your own path.
Select your own life.
It is not already set for you.
Appreciate each sunrise
and learn to love yourself, not God.
ONLY MY MOM LIKES THIS
It is strangling you,
stealing your own precious breath.
Every fiber it contains
is masking the beauty of your skin.
Making you too hot.
Confinement.
Entrapment.
Clinging to you as you
feverishly pull it away.
Tomorrow morning
do not pick a
turtleneck.
About the Writer
My Prose
