Poor Choices

On my own again

Stranded on an island

Of my thoughts-

The waters that surround me

Are currents of my memories,

Swirling whirlpools of chaos

Keeping me isolated.


I can’t escape

The dangerous waves of

“What ifs”

Formed with the wind and the choices of my past-

But I’ll construct

My escape from this godforsaken island

With a study raft of good intentions

And move forward on unsteady waters

To a new world yet unexplored.


What would our lives

Involve on a planet

We evolved to survive?

Are our current threats

Legitimate concerns, or

Have we grown numb

To the harsh realities

Of survival?

Has luxurious living

Weakened our instincts?

Would we be able to

Adapt and thrive

Or would we be

A cautionary tale

Of the dangers of comfort?

Asphyxiation Fixation

An ink scarred hand

Clutching my throat

With the slightest pressure

Causing my windpipes

To be silent

As the image of you

On top of me

Pinning me down

And leaving me without oxygen

Is forever engraved

In the deepest and most sacred

Cavities of my brain.

Stone Floor Stoned

Crawl down to the floor
And lie bare

For men will come growling frighteningly-
One comes carrying fur
For the raid, or a scary sound.

(Once, I dealt hell-
Problems rose anew and growing-
No dreams of diamonds for me).

The duty is mine and mine alone
(With or without you)
I may sing as I run for the harbor.

Many tongues are slammed…
And many of his men owe a dozen
For drinking her foolish.

My home, a martyr.
Many yell for it, many chant
‘Til the festival charade grows

The fairground militia
Will carry attention and law
While guests will fall clutching a cigarette.