Posts Tagged With: loss

Sour Mash Doubts

Doubts and guilt, doubts and will

I want a bout with honesty, but still

It ain’t right that I write only to share,

so I walk ‘til I’m naked, alone, and scared


Working on a world made up of lines

a jagged sawtooth, I am dusty hammer tines

aging slowly, rusting like nails in the times

relevance buried in the “who, what, where, why?”


I watch you succeed, I watch you spiral and fail

I watch you unbridled, through a window unveiled

This whole time, we thought our calling had sailed

It was tomorrow we were following, on road & on trail


Yesterdays poem becomes todays advice,

biting me in the ass, these words I read twice,

You counted the cards ‘n I loaded the dice

Who could expect an asshole to play nice?


Every bee stung me, walking to the hive

I can tell you that I’m lucky to be alive

Back on battlegrounds we strive to survive

Us crossing lines, so quick to chance lives


I chamber a round, ‘cus death shoots hollows

Most men just want a war drum to follow

To give them some honor, sacrifice, and bravado

warping the story ‘til each man is Picasso


The drones are marching through sweltering heat

While others dodge illusion and deceit

They see a carpet crawling, rats up to their knees

Fighting for a feast while spreading disease


One beer at a time, one breath at a time,

Wasting money, it’s peace I can’t buy-

Could you spare a little peace of mind?

Or else cut a line and pour me some wine


If you accept my conditions of suffering,

I’ll accept myself and everyone else

I am my own hostage, couldn’t you tell

Pay my ransom or throw me in the well!


Envious of those who grow rich beyond riches

knees grow weary, digging penniless ditches

Rolling the bowl, inhale both genie & wishes

Life is joke between three laughing witches


Mash in the chamber, I am the changer

my experiences distilled be the only remainder,

Gulping and splashing drops upon strange anger

sharing libation and handshakes with strangers


I walk in the woods to stalk a truth I can kill

I’ll beat it and twist ‘til it lies naked & still-

kill or be killed, fulfilling a beast of will

We’ve got a full bottle and I’m a-cooking still


My song is a fly humming through wide open blue

My darling is a harp, playing faithfully and true

My heart is a snake, made of flesh and sinew

We left the apple on the limb, and a new tree grew.

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Funeral Caricatures

Though they may have been short-lived,
it seems we often glamorize our beloved deceased
and romanticize their lives.
I’ve known a few,
painted as angels in the grave,
who were prolific purveyors of drama and pain while living.
From the cradle, it must be plain to see
they aren’t all that different from you or me.
Remember the good times,
forget the bad times.
Death makes saints out of sinners
and martyrs out of tyrants.
Abusive lovers, unfaithful friends
we cast this aside and love them unconditionally
so easily in their absence.
Though our hands are calloused and scarred,
the grudges we held melt into mourning
as we paint a rose-petaled heartfelt picture
from the charcoal of who once was.
We make such beautiful caricatures.
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losing life to petty things

life is lost over petty things
an argument at the bar
a knife in the ribs,
steel toes scatter bits of scalp and skull
across liquor-stained linoleum

petty human-conceived things,
like pride and respect
derange and rearrange us

life appears so cheap
until cancer diagnostics come back
and the bill is so steep;
maybe that’s the fiscal cliff
we’ve heard so much about

I’d fall off
if they push me
oh to fall away,

dangling from the edge
I’ve gone there once
and I’ll sure go again

I’ve seen the guy in the mirror
watching who it hurts

We burned an eternity to learn
Hell is not a place you go;
it’s a place
you haven’t left yet



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