Scribbles 'n Bits

Category: Poetry

The poetic expression of my artistic and aesthetic pillars along with some choice mixed-media.

  • tensions risen

    The mattress, 
the floor:
tangled 
in linear progression.

The corners,
sharp and cold.

Fingers spread,
you know?

The feeling. 

How's that for 
temptation?

  • a misnomer

    It slowly tingles,
drifting upwards - 
periphery 
caving in -
downtown skyline blending. 
Fuck, I miss your dumb ass.
Same kind of focus,
that narrowed my sight. 
Beside ourselves
with laughter,
beside each other,
friend.

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • 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.”

  • Clad

    Give me one more
blustery good night.
More
of a past,
dead silence
spoken from dark moon’s hollow bite. 
Down below
where I like it.
Down below,
an ill fate sealed tight.