Into Flight

It’s silent now,

and I know how quiet I’ve been…

reflecting… feeling like I’m,

Wrapped in a blanket of judgment.

I’d tell you a story, but starting here is closer to the ending.

It’s been gory since the beginning. I’ve spared the gritty details and

If I could glean a clean insight to whats keeping the tension tight,

in the air tonight; I just might – take you back to

when it didn’t matter about winning or losing;

To a time when my head wasn’t spun – When fun was simple fun,

before everything stating binding and ever since,

have been unwinding!

But I’m afraid through all your unwinding; the pieces of you

the birds are finding; Once chewed through, are not worth shit for glue –

You’re not a chicken,

Yet the feathers of the flock might stick to you may reveal what’s true;

You’ were meant to fly;

Mans greatest hour comes

when he rises above the external and internal clamor,

faces all the demanding faces, and his own;

and silences all the voices..

Counts the cost and knows there’s only 2 choices -.

Instead of just giving in, stands tall and in the face of adversity.

And when things get grim, remains calm through the storm within

I could tuck my tail and turn, crash and burn, but I’ve learned,

I’m prepared to make every wrong – right!

When I’ve finally cleared the run way I’ll take off! – into flight!

Satisfied to know that all my on-lookers,

never before… held such a sight.






Humble Mumblings

And if even “The Greats” were just mere regular,

idiosyncratic – day to day observers of society;

Loud muses that mused nonsense – out of boredom,

stress relief, simple idiotic entertainment –

What of me then? My so called art – ponderings

of a directionless point becoming less with each …

*Sigh* … It’s insane enough I talk out loud to myself,

God help me when I actually take time to write down

the humble mumblings of my inner muse.

I’m easily amused, taking advantage of space and time,

making rhymes – poetry is as poetry does, line for line.

Poetry is like life – random and chaotic,

occasionally coming together beautifully in wondrous ways.

Poetry is life.

The best lines obtained through years of disillusionment and pain.

The never ending struggle to fight; Finnish the race!

The journey, discovery and utilization of what it  means to not just live – but to actually feel connected to your being;

That is living.

… That is poetry…


At the center of the equation,

the ultimate variable that changes;

The “in between” that will always be “in between”?


If I used numbers for letters to solve problems,

would I still be a genius in my own mind?

Or would I still be a mad man, lost in his own ‘verse,

staged before the common junkie, to be ridiculed?


I’m no mathematician: An artist of the language,

maybe once or twice – then the parasites started talking

by squirming violently; They will never tell you personally,

but they are not happy.


I really don’t know  how they got in my head,

They must of entered in my ear,

cause with out uttering a word, I hear… everything I dread,


Oh the time is coming,

Everything is building up,

the gears are winding and winding!

Something is going to… snap…


I’m still at an impasse; X trying to balance wh-Y-at.

If you need an angels dead hand,

reach for my finger tips – they’re in the jar next to my jaw.



Welcome Home

Why does this world make me feel so alone?

I want to leave every one alone

I want to leave them stripped to the bone


Welcome home… Welcome home…

Welcome… home


Cries my lonely skeleton in the closet

he screams “My bones, my bones my bones”

What about when I am all alone…

come home to my lonely bones…


The home movies wont look the same;

with you cut out of the picture frame;

you were my dame… now nothing looks the same…


Welcome home… Welcome home…

Welcome… home



Why does this world make me feel so alone?

I want to leave every one alone

I want to leave them stripped to the bone


Why does this world make me feel so alone?

Cries my lonely skeleton in the closet

he screams “My bones, my bones my bones”

What about when I am all alone…

come home to my lonely bones…


The battle rages on

and I am since long gone…

100 years walking the beach of the dead,

No loved ones to put coins in my head….


So on Charons’ next run Ill ambush him,

steal his gold coins and hold them ransom.

Just when things look grim, I’ll say test me,

and into the river Styx I’ll drop them.


Take me to the other side,

Take me to the other side.


I don’t wan’t to be left behind

left with the others going out of my mind!

I’m trying to find my way off this plane;

the restless dead never change!


They’re always the same ghosts,

forever haunting the same hosts;

I swear I’m going to change the most!


I’ll regain my soul…

and once again be whole,

All of Hades will not stop me,

I’ll regain my soul,

and once again be whole…

That’s Dope

I can’t sleep because now I reap

What I’ve sown, I’ve always known the

demons I feed and keep would defeat me.

I struggle to break free – they strangle me –

in my mind they find the times between  pain

and boredom  and my crimes;

I’ve said it a million times in a million rhymes,

Memories imprisoning me when all I want is to be free!


I try to pray to have faith and hope then,

I get bored and drink and smoke dope.

sniff dope, inject dope. Kill my hope,

Everyday I’m struggling in life just to cope!

Everyday burning my money till I’m broke;

What a joke! I can’t live this way!

I Start begging the rope!

I need Jesus! –  not the pope!


I’m trapped between two worlds;

The light and the good fight for what is right

the nights out chasing a high and the girls;

I can’t think, my minds in a whirl, so I’m gonna

smoke drugs and drink until I hurl.


I’m all alone and burning in hell,

burning in hell,

burning in hell,

Burning in hell and I’m not even dead yet,

every minute of every hour of everyday;

Haunted by my regrets,

haunted by my regrets.

Haunted by my regrets.