Mon 5 Jul 2010
There are a lot of cracks to fall through in this, The American Dream.
Sat 20 Feb 2010
Dime stores and a hole in the wall,
Teeth marks on the barrel of a gun,
An empty day
A dauntless sun,
An endless war
To give mothers more graveyard sons.
Shots ringing,
The sound of another lie-torn broadcast,
Vengeance followed by the weather report:
A hurricane and one more bomb dropped
Death in the streets,
Arms torn off
And nations torn apart,
Babies silenced as armies mobilize
Their boots and bullets,
Writing lullabies for those who weep.
Be calm now
Shhhhh, go to sleep.
Tue 16 Feb 2010
Words are often little more than a hiccup in air flow.
Tue 15 Dec 2009
Look both ways,
beyond your cellular decay,
beyond the money, the masks, and the corked-chardonnay,
through the modern monoliths and the mean metal grey,
to the streets of concrete and paved currency
tossed in with the tweed
of plastic and greed,
there is a blind bumble bee
and a stale memory…
They are all that is left in this fist folly fight
against pockets full of coins and the bloody fierce night.
So.
Here’s to the bees and the busy diseased: Three Cheers for Queen and Long Live The Dead!
Sat 28 Nov 2009
When the days is done
and the battle’s half-won,
Who’s left standing to say that this shell of a day
was worth what one might call: A mighty heavy fall?
Sat 28 Nov 2009
To an audience that has yet to be born: BANG!
Tue 11 Mar 2008
Beware of smooth words with little content.