INSIDE HALLWAYS

I don’t write a lot of happy poetry because I share my happiness fully and freely with people. I write poetry when I’m frustrated, angry, or hurt. I write poetry because I can share my thoughts without burdening someone else with them. I have plenty of people who wouldn’t consider it a burden but for…

IF MOURNING WE MUST DO

Grief has its own set of lungs And tears that etch and burn Lyrical scriptures engraved Upon our very tongues Sorrow is a bright flame Slowly consumed by time And when the fire dies Love remains the same If mourning we must do Because life never lasts Then I hope I do it well To…

TOO NOISY

I trashed more posts this month than ever. The older I get the more meaningless I feel words are. Mine specifically. Everything feels noisy. My skin. The sky. Your hair. The weight of failure is noisy. I keep failing. It keeps screaming. But the weight isn’t as heavy as I thought it would be. Maybe…

NO GOODBYE

I let my soul Slip out And it floated Like balloons Toward the sky And I cried Because It didn’t even Linger Didn’t care To say goodbye And that Is the story Of my life

THE VILLAIN MAKER

What I’d like to tell you Will never pass my lips My words mean too much To end up changed, twisted Because that’s what you do Turn hankies into birds And people clap and cheer Then they point and jeer When you tell them I’m the one, the horrible one Turning birds into hankies When…

TRENDSPOTTING

Reconciling never ends As the narrow bones Widen into countries And the steps descend Into chaotic drumbeats We churn the gold out Spread it on idols Tarnished repetition Tok tok tok tok tik Developing desperation The bell tolled And landscapes rolled And nobody Was the wiser

SMALL LITTLE TINY SUPERHERO

It gets rusty with all the rain And the yellows Just run into brown all day The pain echos Inside hallways Locked away from you But sometimes I think you can hear The ruining Behind those walls It’s not as noisy As you’d think The death of words So many slaughtered Reimagined And recreated For…

IMPORTANT TO US

A GUEST POEM BY Byron Hamel They force you into theseLittle rowsIndustrial linoleumWorn down to bedrockWhere you waitUntil they are as urgent as you areAbout the death and mayhemPlease wait calmlyWhile the world caves inAnd you stay at the bottomIf you liveThey caught me cryingThis time about Hiroshima and NagasakiI’d been in the middle of…

DIRTY ROOTS

Tangled up with roots That no longer hunger Soaking up rust Can’t hold on much longer Heavy and weary The oppression stronger Stuck in the mud Nothing to do but slumber Hold me down so I can’t breath To waste away in my mental bunker