Spilled Milk on the Red Line

Spilled milk on the Red Line

Veins of white

Rush down the floor

“That ain’t mine”

The lady with two hats on yells

The man

Visibly exhausted with his head back

Is not one inch close to conscious

As the white pours through the isle

Pictures being snapped

A moment catches

The woman with the bike laughs

Late night Red Line

Public transportation

Strange spilled iterations

As the winds wind through

The tunnels

Below the streets

Of L.A.


Desperation of Desolation

The desperate times

Desperate measures

Come up with something good

A productive measure

In times worn thin

As the veil of light

Through the morning curtains

We have to continue to

Rely on food decisions

To set us right

Round the Corner

The simple smell

Can trigger so many memories

Roasting coffee

In Williamsburg

Takes me to years

On the road

So fresh and clean

Yet Smokey and full

The roast roars our into the air


And bringing back

Memories of good times

Day to Be

The coming days to be

Letting go of what was familiar to

You and me

A city

A life

For bigger and better

Discoveries and journeys

Letting go

While others hold so tight

That they squeeze the life

Out of the joy

Thy love

And love left

It will be

Delays in Night


Unfettered display

Of reckless disregard

On guard

Words with no meaning


Backward leaning

Back in the night

When the sun lies low

That is where the weak prosper

The forbidding go

Back to Words

Back to Words

Renewed and new

Old and worn

Planted and grew

I refresh in a new 

Set of words

Tied in meaning

And time

I return to Words

In search of rhyme

Chaos Control 

Let the trolls


Let the birds

Fly upon them

I am sick of lies

Sick of tails

Tired of being the end 

Of the joke

Let the chaos control

Roll out

On the world

Great Deflate

I show up

But late

Let’s get one thing straight

No words matter

In a great deflate

Deflate and prosper

“You’re fired”

But I already walked

From your offer

So here comes the New Year

The new changes

Bring on the corruption cases

Watch the fires blazin’

En garde!

En garde!


Twin Flames

Twin flames reach up to the sky

Stretched out like two Great Danes

A wry gesture to a waning night

Love burns in his heart

For her

For love

For good

Souls entangled in this life together

No matter the weather

The twin flames reach for the sky

Day and night

The wind has no hope to blight this fire

For 24 hours a day

Blazing as if fed by turpentine

Love is fed by action

Defined not by material

But the ethereal

The twin flames

Him and her



Angel Investor or Debt Collector

Continue to write



The creative process shall never tire

Agendas will be set

And disrupted

Hope bursts like a bubble

Whose flight has been interrupted

The job of the artist is to set free

Ideas before they can be accepted politically

To stay pure in original thought and progression

Artistic pursuit on the mind like an obsession

I will not put hope in others

Not those who claim to rise above the rest

As if us the collective whole

Was just a second best

Rather these words are our power

When we are powerless

We can still speak

And be heard

Every single word will land on an ear

No great cause can be pursued with fear

Rather we go forth and seek truth

Writing the words that resonate with me and you

Not waiting for an angel investor or debt collector

We all will write and be heard

Be heard

This truth I have written on January 3rd