Years Better Erased than Written

I have enough words to tell you I don’t have anything to say,

Not now and not ever again.


What’s the point?

What does it matter?

Does anyone actually value being literate,

Or is it merely a convenience?


Buried in megapixels,

Whored out for micro SDs,

If only you had a brain.


For the fact that change has occurred,

Life remains the same;

Yet because hardly anything is the same,

It’s only then we recognize there has been any change.


D          I         E



Morning Oration

No matter how it is presented,

Or how it is supposedly justified,

Hypocrisy is one of the ugliest human traits.


So, what do you do when you’re the hypocrite?

The filth and poison being released into the world,

Is a burden you’re responsible for creating.

I knew most any trust I’d even imagined to possessing had been broken,

But I didn’t intend to forget what trust was altogether.

Unfortunately, I believe it happened because it just made things easier.


When the face you hate seeing most is your own,

You look only when required;

And make haste otherwise.

I’ve really done it this time,

And this is the oddity of mistakes.

Whence you’ve recognized you’ve lost your way,

It doesn’t always mean you need to discover a new path.

You may have run out of all resources possible to have and need to rest,

You may backtrack and seemingly digress;

But never, should you ever, give up and surrender.


I want to desire to trust others again,

But I believe must learn how to trust myself first.

How and why should I expect to trust people I’m around occasionally,

If I can’t be bothered to trust the person I am and will be for all time?



Just Short on Change

“Goins! Goings! Gongs! Goings!”

Amidst these misunderstood yells,

An empty cup is identified as an empty shaker.

Whether my pockets are empty or full,

Much to the dismay of the person clearly shaken,

They won’t receive the change they actually need.

When your mind is on a journey,

That somehow your body missed the invitation to;

The changes worth considering or needed,

Don’t typically jingle.

As the shopkeeper laughs insultingly,

While giving a glare that is almost parental;

Change is desired from the situation.

But for once,

a jingling of a pocket would be hope ringing out.

As buildings fall like tears,

And prices grow almost as fast as children;

Transition is inevitable,

And yet your white knuckles grip something that need not remain.

It’s ironic how that which we put forth most effort to keep,

Is exactly what prevents us from reaching our true & highest potential.

Whether it be habits of abuse or excess,

Mental paths darker than winter at the North pole.

In our twisted & misguided plan to be true unto ourselves,

We valiantly lie & cheat in order to find comfort.

Would you,


Like some change?


Don’t ty