Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: Poetry

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

  • S.D.B.Q!

    Fixing
instruments of death. 
A wrench
turning man. 
the author of apocalypse - 
swift rivers’ final breath. 
A demon, 
fears 
of every depth. 
Purged 
of amnesty.
Hedge rows 
trimmed to hypocrisy. 
A lesson, some say, 
learned -
apple rotting on the desk. 
A monster
lamenting only failure. 

  • Bar Setting

    Message from the awful truths 
nothing stronger than full proof. 
Bits and pieces of presumption. 

Little takeaways for view - 
pleasure emptier than the room. 
Rise to the occasion or rise to nothing. 

Gracious notes from old to new: 
scrambled eggs and beatnik floof. 
Flowers on collars and shelves of buttons. 

Let the setting scene
fade to view.

  • Low Hanging Fruit

    Far,
far away.
Sittin’ where the apple seeds
grow all day. 
Whistle up a smile
and the branches sway.
Dump out the bath
and keep the baby face. 
Nothing left of leaving - 
only born yesterday. 

  • you my

    My mind buzzes over you.
No use hiding from the truth.
I hope it’s coming,
what we’ve got coming - 
I need it. 
I need to feel inside,
a castle on the hill
with faces in the vines. 
I need you. 


No use hiding every night.
I see something in your eyes.
If you’re not something, 
I’ve got nothing. 
I need it. 
Fuel the fire inside 
a wood burned stove 
with glassy eyed cries. 
I need you. 


I don’t know where time has gone.
Last I seen, it up and run. 
Ah, but nothing,
it’s all nothing. 
I don’t need it. 
A crumbling tide. 
The house fell down, 
nobody inside. 
I need you. 

I need you.

  • Provocations from the Poet: Pipelines and Pleading

    Better to suffer adversity and meet self-actualization than to seek comfort in quiet mediocrity.

  • TONIGHT’S MENU

    Arms open to the warmth of a kindled flame. 

Wise words encourage the finer things first. 

Swimming free of real naught; realized. 

Low down, twins - fraternal - adore.

Rolling slopes bring a sweet sun to rest

and a goddess to rise.

  • Hold Cloak, Bring Dagger

    Skepticism in its sheath,
a proverb donned on me. 
Judgement come cloud,
some lost and some found,
repetitious melody. 

Anticipate their looks, 
the mile long stares, 
breeding surreptitiously. 
Eyes bounce and hang;
besieging pack of googlies.

  • Bound

    Vanished from him
across the sea.
Drying eyes 
with salted air, 
the Northbound man 
set trade winds free. 
A raft adrift 
though lashings taught. 
Emptying his pockets,
scatter rusted keys. 
He recognized one:
strong toothed iconoclast;
a head worn. 
Exchanged tired looks. 
Escape from safe keeping 
or so would seem. 

  • Canyon

    A foreign voice,
bob and drift
yours, 
further down
after years 
streaming
trapped in hesitation. 
and drown
Rusty and broken, 
winding 
“This is me,”
cries
it says. 
thrashing
“This is me,” 
doppler in effect
it agreed. 

  • Encompassing

    Like fresh earth,
roots settled in; 
surround me.
No clear pictures -
how 
why -
rather, a breeze strolled;
a hammock rocked;
hair wisped over a forehead.  
Dug into what grounds me.