Scribbles 'n Bits

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  • Sea Salted Cocoa Nut

    Hunting 

    window seats,

    timeless observation decks,

    for things - 

    people really -

    sifting 

    over and over. 

    I don’t understand 

    or pretend not to

    for the sake 

    of a plastic beach 

    somewhere. 



    Reworking the data,

    changing perspectives,

    and updating the algorithm

    through sips 

    from a tulip glass. 

    Making it absolutely nowhere. 



    Still, the water runs;

    the purple coats

    cry on the corner, 

    a blue Porsche 

    drifts around...

    whatever you say,

    space cadet.

  • What They Call Life

    Give the people what they want
    and take only what you need.

  • Their Buried Heads

    Look, this dreamer, 
in an age lacking peace. 
Contests staring 
with the wall.
An ostrich to the races;
a warm, drumming static
and beeping.
Ambivalent,
like any 
decent son should be.

  • Hero Complex

    Please wipe 
the stars 
from your eyes.
I took a bullet - 
saved your life - 
not because 
I value yours,
but because
I do not value mine.

  • Red Shift, Blue Shift

    The sundial stuck,
an indecisive thing;
ticking perpetually 
on the same, old second. 

Let the world turn;
for once lick its own wounds.
Let the majestic sea turtle
hurtling between cosmic gases,
make its own peace  
with the monkeys on its back.

  • Compartments

    It's not your fault. 
You live in a
cardboard shanty town,
a little box,
in my head
alongside everyone else.

  • Candid

    I love that. I want it in a Tarantino film.

  • She, Herself, and I

    A coarse flight of reds
bedazzled her sly impression - 
the harder they come. 
A reliable mistress
with a harshness worth revitalizing -
a gambit
worth falling for.

  • The Final Rising

    “Here lies a man
    who laughed at everything,”
    a speckled, gray stone declared.
    The name “Ulta Mareis”
    sunk into its brow.
    “Even his own pain,”
    a woeful voice agreed.
    Faceless and gowned in black,
    uproarious laughter broke through
    solemnity
    as they dropped their flowers.
    Loudest and highest of all,
    when the last rose
    found its resting place;
    Ulta Mareis gave his last laugh.

  • Collared Green

    Long swings of outrage
to apathy,
cries the pendulum.
Settling low,
windmills blinking as one. 
The man in the high collar
staring down burnt ends
of a smoke trail,
looks up and smiles,
“Well, now.”