Category Archives: Street Life


bring the needle back
bring the needle back
bring the needle back
bring the needle back

too many cold mannequins breaking the scene


Golden sunset

cant envision the former smile
disguised laughter
a melody trained
to break a human heart

eight ball rolling up the sleeve

open door

night time howls past the alleyway
and memories
of her
standing by an open door
blue eyes pink flesh taut against
the guitar strings
the wind

the alleyway becomes our heaven
backroom deals
a kiss passionate steams
hiked up sleeves
and then its finished

memories of her in that open door
blackened sweet
a touch
a drink
and then it was gone

Note: The Book of Proverbs warns us of those alleyways. Our eyes land, they fall and destruction is soon to follow.
I realize that poetry can show the dark corners where I used to live, but hopefully it can serve as a warning as well.
Those alleys, those streets lead to despair. Ask anyone on East Hastings what life is like. Most will say it is a life without hope.

I thank The Lord that I have been called out of the streets. If you are in a place that has no hope, call on Jesus.

deep cracks

I know all about the cracks
In the pavement
Where we fall through
One by one

Ghosts walk silently home
Smooth silky apparitions
Shimmer with neon eyes
Flaring glaring daring
You wonder where they go

And then it’s you

finger dance

one over the over
crossed legged
dances slowly, traced trails etched bleary eyed tears
roofless cistern pit
dust sparkles in moonlight
poison little diamonds
as her fingers dance
crossed legged
one over the other
mesmerized by darkened delights
pathogenic nights

I sat. Stunned.

62 Olds

Have you ever lived
inside the belly
of a 62 Olds?

Blood red upholstery
raises your quarters
with chrome steeled inlays
cold steel inlays that reflect


from your self

its roomy inside,you tell yourself
with a 392 under the hood
but its all you got
and the rust in her panels
and the lint in your pockets

junk filled veins collapse under the weight

never the same

Its never the same
night after night
under bright neon lights flash across rain coated streets
passer by people smoking talking not believing

never the same
night after night
the street comes alive
cobble stoned century we live in
steam rises venting heat
cardboard mattress lift
gently away\genies unleashed their magic
stop and go
that was my home you watched being tossed away

watch me as you walk past me by
Im not here
you pretend that I never was
it’s never the same
down here
it’s always

post mortem

id like to see you rise
one more time
id like to see you rise
and touch the sky
with your hands

id like to see you
one more time
above the city
above the sun rise

id like to take it all away
everythng that took
our freedom away
and left
us running blind
us running scared

id like
one more time
id like one more time
to brush up against you
and look up at you

and know
its all alright
its not the dark of night
and we would be together
and not a memory
or a bitter pill
that we swallow every year
a tolling bell
its a tolling bell
that we long to hear
calling you home
one more time
if only to ease our pain
a soft refrain
people with ipods shuffle by
and the street longs to cry
but now its a vanished ghost

id like to see you rise
one more time
id like to see you rise
and touch the sky
with your hands

in memory of the towers.