A poetic journey through my mind

Archive for November, 2015


Playing with the jagged bits of unsanitary dreams,
forcing truth down till it fits or merely till it screams,
slicing bits and pieces off to make a straighter edge,
or bashing at it till it fits with meanings heavy sledge.

kicking at the door of art, screaming to be let in,
screaming to be heard at all, past chaos’ heavy din,
wheedling and whining low, a dog chained in the yard,
waiting till a treat is thrown, for doors to be unbarred.

Dylanizing with the hope of widening my reach,
vocalizing, sermonizing, never practice what I preach,
hiding here behind my mask of pixel, key and grammar,
behind the glass I cower back, hem and haw and stammer.

I am the tarots fool, you know, dancing on the ledge,
I am the little dog that barks, shoving you to the edge,
I am the words of learned men and the tricks of any clown,
and when I leave, the lights go out, they bring the curtain down.