I ran out of time

I was going to write a poem

About a man

I used to know,

When he was just a boy

A cute boy

A nice boy

But then, nice was never

My thing.

thats as far as it got

before i remembered

i have a life.

Something ain’t right

All those times
I'd get so mad
I screamed so loud
but nobody heard
Nobody listened
All those times
I tried to tell you
but you never heard me
All the things
Something ain't right
Something ain't right
All those times I cried
because I knew
Something ain't right
Years passed,
 I learned to swallow back
the screams,
the tears
the grief
the fear
the anger
Put on on my Big Girl Pants 
I walked on,
 I  survived
and Still..
Something ain't right.

2019 a time of uncertainty

Like any other. I wish it was new…

This flutter of hope I have that things will get better. But no, I’ve felt it before. I must not give into the weakness that comes with that flutter…

So I shall remain forever cynical. Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad.

Fifteen Minutes

I think I better
Take that 15 minutes for me
Before it all comes
Crashing down
Just 15 minutes
For me
To sort it all through
Or Not
Before I pick
The day back up
Before I speak
Before I act
React, or not
Just 15 minutes
Its all I need
15 minutes
Just for me

By a thread

Here I sit, poised and ready
Trills and chills and one big tickle
Excited, involved
God, help me
Letting the dream loose and
Turning the world upside down
While hanging by a thread
God, help me
I’m takin’ a chance
Not able to tell if it’s real,
Till its done and a deal
Still I think
No matter the outcome
I m enjoying the dance


a lonely heart
cried out to mine
striking a note
i’d rather not chime
if only i had a vote
alone by choice
i was somewhat content
quelling that voice
that my heart sent
till the echoes
of a lonely heart
reverberated within me
and made a song
that does not belong
touched a place
i thought i’d erased


Honest? I think really she thinks so, but instead of honest i see another self serving, privileged white dude who manipulated the system and has told so many obvious whoppers that its not even funny. From I’ll release my taxes to we didn’t talk to that Russian- not that I wanted HC (please, just say no) or that he is “the problem”. As in hell to the no on both, actually. And in reality, DT is just as honest as anyone who resides in d.c. on the government dime I guess, but in relation to the rest of us, I fear he is sadly lacking in both honesty and integrity. Sadly this is also true of the rest of the majority of the aforementioned D.C. crew – no matter which side of the aisle they reside on, honesty and looking after the best interest of the people is in VERY short supply, unless of course it ties into their own agendas and aspirations. But then who’s fault is it? them for obeying their very nature or ours for letting it get this far out of hand?

Seems to me that for quite a while we the people have let them call the shots without any consequences for bad behavior. And “they” have just batted our disapproval aside like you might a fly, and still even when wrong (oh so wrong) “they” prevail. Maybe it is because they have crafted the laws in “their” favor, and that “they” own 99.8% of the media outlets… but somehow the spirit of Eugene Debs and the belief that we the people are entitled to a say in our own employment, fair wages and compensation for our labor has come into conflict with the independent nature of “we the misinformed people” who for some reason fail to realize that for the most part “we” are being played. And yet despite all the empirical evidence in front of our eyes, for some reason “we” continue to believe our votes count, yet never insist that they actually count them in recent history. And now, that in the ability of a free nation to truly exist that would really depends on our say so, on our very participation, has been lost in a made up battle between “socialism” and “capitalism”. If we ever had it to begin with, our freedoms are being limited by our refusal to recognize these ploys outside of finger pointing at the party or political leanings that we happen to disagree with the most – when it is a fact that both sides are screwing “us”. And, ironically, even tragically it is exactly those two crooked parties that are flaming that fuel to facilitate and continue pulling the wool over our eyes.


A Hell of a Guy

He’s a hell of a guy
but he’s not you
He’s sweet and kind and funny
but he’s not you
i feel a tug
but he’s not you
i could see us together
but he’s not you
charming and strong and clever
but he’s not you
it could go on forever
but he’s not you
my head tells me to move on
no use lingering illusions
of what might have been
but it tears my heart
and wounds my soul
he’s not you