Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: scribblesnbits wordpress

  • The Beat

    So rumble on. 
Dignified specks 
across the cuffs.
A stumbled run.
Lives closer, 
standing back, 
than coming from.  
A room of champagne glasses 
painted darkly - 
beating a rogue drum. 
A gallery free 
of ivory canvas.
Deaf fallen hum.

  • Solstice

    Over the shoulder
into dawn - 
a bruised and battered sky. 
Past the fallen
violet honey
or so goes the cry. 

Through cedar boughs;
over ice - 
a freshly minted leave.
A turned corner,
the smokehouse finds reprieve. 

A cliche for all ages,
"what's done is done,"
and again
never comes.
A brow's glistening white beads.

  • A Wandering: The Nuance of Idle Thought

    From a person imprisoned or sheltered within their mind arise pathologies not explored by those who take benevolent residence instead.

  • Memorandum of Overture

    My advice, 
fallen deaf 
on the ears made by 
adjoining symphony -
or cacophony - indifference. 
Splice.
Sew broken 
chord through and thorough.
Fodder for the cannon; 
bows at the ready. 
My advice?
Hold your head high,
an octave above the rest.
And fade.

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    {“key”:7, “loc”:”175 515″, “text”:”delta(h) – set aside”},
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  • The Stylist’s Curse

    Foreword: Though the elements of horror fiction commonly make their way into my writing, it is oddly one of my least common reading choices. The bulk of which, when I do partake, is centered on a psychological component. In appreciation, few other subjects offer a laboratory as free for exploration. I felt, in holiday spirit, what’s the harm? Hope you enjoy.

    Pages: 1 2

  • 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. 

  • 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.

  • Tumble Cake

    If I could have an ice cream,
I’d rather buy two.
If I could take a walk,
I’d rather go with you.

If I could make a home, 
I’d build it with a view.
Large windows while you’re outside
so I could stare at you.

Whenever I’m alone, dear,
you’re inside my head.
All the things I’m missing
I’d hear from you instead.