Category Archives: Off the wall


asphalt rolls slow and i
hear the whiskey whispers
under neon skies
a bit of smoke curls
dances and is kissed
going down
avenue 70

its where we drowned


Sunday dancer

slithering like a serpent among the pews
calling you to dance
music runs slow over your breasts
pull, breathe, push down

knees drawn closer tighter
serpent swirls in a cloud,
like bitter perfume
scented from the dead

music raises ghosts
passions that you lost when you slept
there is no man Jesus here
only the serpent, and you.

I wrote this because not of the actual prompt at tonight, which is'”taboo” but I was reading a poem by claudia schoenfeld and I was going to reply how sensuous her poem was and the line, slithering like a serpent among the pews came to mind and would not let go,

I love Jesus, but the line kept twisting and the result is what you have above.

This will hopefully be my only “bio” to any poem I write. I like to leave that to your own imaginings.


Sepia toned image.
Image via Wikipedia

shattered and never seeming to
looking out past
a photo from an outpost
youth gone
sepia toned

standing on a walk
standing on a hope
laid a card
looked and turned away

sat and paused
not sure of what ever
it was
that kept the dreamers from falling

Flash Drive Lover

Almost Lover
Image via Wikipedia

modern day lover
how do you do
encapsulated and emboldened
there is nothing you wont do

network synapses
network bypasses
and an email lover or two

you see it through data node eyes
and you feel it in your data driven thighs
but there is nothing you can do
there is nothing you can do

but slowly turn

On Rhyming. Really.


Yellow fairy dust lies on the dawn
white golden dew drops
dance upon the lawn

the trees sway to the gentle breeze
space monkeys in disguise
begin to sneeze

alleyways and back lit stores
and the cats and dogs whisper no more

Who will hear the pavement cold?
Who will hear the crying dove?
Who sings a song that no one dances too?

Time is past.

W.SHaTNer We never Assimilated You

Captain James T. Kirk
Image by Benjamin Lehman via Flickr

they say to turn 80
you had to run away
and live another day

But we were not in your quadrant
puny human scum
when you were a captain
of a garbage tub

now that you are older
and can’t run so fast
we have grown fond of you
and all of your telecasts…

Happy Birthday
from the Collective…

look out

look out before you look in
look out waves begin
dream passes
and a maroon.

look out
before you look in
everything starts to begin
finger pointed south
volume low

look out
before you look in.

Latex flatulence

Nothing in the bubble
but a whole lot of trouble
nothing in the bubble
ain’t nothing more to see
it already passed

floating through space
alone in the vastness
only we are aware of ourselves

nothing in the bubble
nothing but trouble.