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Poetry
Her husband
Said, no, she
Couldn’t go
Out with her
Friends, couldn’t
Have a good
Time, couldn’t
Visit her
Sick father
In the home
Downtown for
The gaga,
Couldn’t let
Her unwind
At the old
Cinema
After a
Hard day’s week;
He needed
Her at home
To get his
Dinner w...
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Poetry
Fish are jumping,
His daddy said,
The drawl drawn out,
Pushing slowly
Out the fish boat
From the pond’s rim,
Breathing the new
Day’s air, the sweet
Scented day’s dawn,
The sound of birds.
Ripe for the pull
And plucking with
Hook, line and rod,
And a man’s skill
For waiting still.
...
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Poetry
Sometimes at night
As she lies in
Bed and looks at
The black ceiling,
She has the sick
Feeling of dank
Emptiness deep
Inside and feels
The empty space
Beside her where
Her lover used
To be, then feels
Her head where thoughts
Once came and where
Some were lost, feels
Her breast where once
He would rest his
Head, the lover,
The...
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Poetry
Running from truth
Hiding in the shadows.
I'm afraid to show
my faults, my pain.
Shy away from her
Disappointment follows
the truth.
See the hurt.
Someday, honesty will
catch you.
Right now, hide
behind the walls of facades.
The perfect facade
is one that never breaks
one to hold on to
for dear life.
...
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Poetry
Messenger of Hope
I'm an angel without the wings
But I try to mend all the broken things
There is no golden halo upon my head
Just a simple soul living among the dead
I see much decay and so much ruin
Human life, is all too confusing
A long time ago my confidence was beaten in
I fell in love with a fool, my wings withered off since t...
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Poetry
Are you trying
To give me back my heart?
I gave it to you,
It's yours to keep.
If you don't take it back,
I'll lay it at your feet.
I can't stand myself.
If it's not my faul
Whose could it be?
You tell me I'm perfect,
But it won't work.
Oh God, what are You doing?
How can you do this?
Do you know what
It's doing to me?
Do you even care?
How could you...
05/09/2008 | 56 Hits | 3 comments |  (2 votes) | Read more...
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Poetry
in the middle of great bliss
i remember your sweet kiss
enjoying myself with laughter
i hear a voice saying forever
surroungding me is peace
then i smell you scent in the breeze
i look at my reflection and i see a smile
then i turn to my eyes and knew it will take qite a while..
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Poetry
Tess use to keep a copy
Of the Pisan Cantos by
Ezra Pound in her blue coat
Pocket, as a kinky kind
Of talisman against the
Bland mediocrity and
The monotony of her
Daily life; dipping into
Its pages, sampling the
Lines and words, the images
Brought out, and a photograph
Of Pound tucked in the side of
...
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Poetry
Some mornings, when she
Wakes up, she moves to
The edge of the bed
And stares at the place
Where her feet use to
Be; now an empty
Space below the knee.
At least the stupid
Suicide bomber
Had left her fresh face
Untouched, not a mark
Or scar, not a hair
Out of place in that
Sense of the well worn
Word. Yes, something was
Missing, a place deep
Inside, that sense of
Security, that
C...
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Poetry
Beneath the oak trees lies...
buried passion, buried emotion,
hidden feelings, memories.
Beneath the deep sea lies...
forgotten heroes, forgotten cowards,
unspoken words, restrained talents.
Beneath the spotlight lies...
little freedom, little secrets,
broken promises, empty love.
Beneath your touch lies...
calm breaths, small smiles,
all th...
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Poetry
Come in, she said,
Visit my sweet
Palace of sin,
Tour the contours
Of my sweating
Pleasurable
Flesh, the deep dark
Places of my own
Desirable
Zones, the flooding
Flames of passion,
But that was then,
And that kind of
Men, what of now,
With the coming
Of age, the cramps,
The greying hair,
The failing eyes,
The hearing loss?
Who will visit
Me now, who will
Tour these w...
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Poetry
Lisa was obsessed
By Nietzsche; had his
Picture on her white
Bedroom wall, in some
Cheap frame from an old
Market stall; she was
Fascinated by
His deep sunk eyes, his
Huge moustache and that
Firm set of his head,
And the deep thoughts that
Poured from brain into
His books, which she read
Over and over;
And...
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Poetry
And the living is easy,
Henderson said,
Reclining in bed,
While his pretty wife
Worked her butt off;
A bit like that Nazi lie:
Work shall make you free,
She thought,
Watching him blow
Smoke rings from his snug rest;
His hairy chest;
His balding head;
The way he spoke
In that drawl,
Like the words
Were too ...
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Poetry
Depleted
Everything has been completed
Things once held out of value, all depleted
Tried to peer through all of the barricades
Still reattaching pieces to this broken face
And I could write a million poems
I could give to you my heart, as a token
But what's the use
My heart you would only abuse
And the poe...
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Poetry
I am shallow.
I am deep.
I am stoic.
I weep.
I am happy.
I am sad.
I am hurt.
I am mad.
I am calm.
I rage.
I am child.
I am sage.
I am dumb.
I am smart.
I am sweet.
I am tart.
I see.
I am blind.
I am mean.
I am kind.
I fear.
I face.
I am awkward.
I am grace.
I am choice.
I am fate.
I love,
and I hate.
I am grounded.
I fly.
I live.
I die.
I am wind.
I am flam...
05/07/2008 | 48 Hits | 3 comments | (2 votes) | Read more...
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Poetry
Don’t move it,
Leave it be,
Let it gather dust,
Let the thing stand
Where it has always stood,
Touch it gently,
Feel the empty space,
See the blankets
Smoothed out now,
The sheets as their were,
Imagine baby lying there,
See the ghostly face?
Leave it be now,
Let the cot remain,
It helps h...
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Poetry
Summertime,
She remembered,
June 74;
The heat;
The butterflies;
The swallows in the air;
Him and his handsome features,
His eyes to die for,
His hair to want to touch;
His way with words;
The way he played the piano,
With Chopin after meals,
Before lovemaking;
Van Gogh’s Sunflower
Over hanging the bed,
Nothing
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Poetry
Take A Look
He sits there with hands folded
She sits across the room, her pride eroded
Their love, not what it used to be
They find themselves stuck in eachothers imagery
Where everything seems to get worse
She thinks, if only he would put me first
But deep inside he knows what he must do
He says, "It must end between me and you...
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Poetry
A friend called round the other day
His face was pale, his skin was grey.
He said he hadn’t long to last
And wished to relive times gone past.
We talked about our times in school
And I let him paint me as the fool
In class, when teachers turned to see
The one making the face was me.
We bathed in mem’ries now revised
From times before his sure demise.
...
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Poetry
It was the year
She first listened
To the Beatles;
The year she bought
Herself some bright
Clothes, bought a new
Bra; the year some
Creep molested
Her on the back
Stone steps of some
Cinema; put
His hand along
Her thigh; slowly
Venturing deep
Into her sex;
Attempting to
Kiss her with his
Sickly thic...
05/06/2008 | 57 Hits | 3 comments | (2 votes) | Read more...
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Short Stories 
