Missing

My stomach aches like hunger

but tastes like thirst. 

Tears are threatening my eyelids

and want to run away from home. 

Your imprint stays on my chest

and my arms cradle the air looking for you. 

My nose freezes from pumping air

to remember your smell. 

My hands hold each other

to keep warm for yours. 

I'm a little lost in a familiar wood;

I'm missing you. 

Where Wolf

I took a knife to my face when I saw yours. 

All the black traced veins I pulled

from your throat as I bloated

my goaded ego and toted small death breaths

with me just in case you ran out of grenades. 

I pulled long pined treacheries and projected 

these wretcheries onto your beautiful gambit of flowers. 

I showered blood and gore from scores 

of incandescent descents into Hell's happy place. 

Your face graces my open throated grave

and you gave and give everything I need

but my decade bleed pleads for its fill

and my will breaks change and can't fit the bill. 

I need light to shine bright and forthright 

from these blighted fighting fists that persist 

in your demolition. 

I can't hold you tight at arms length

and my strength burns against me now. 

clench my grip and run with me through fields of gray 

and stay until our breaths can merge 

and conquer this brittle broken battlefield I've fed. 

Between you and me and Daddy we can defeat my giants. 

Though the pliant promises of yesterday again will not fill

my ever diminishing return

return with me to our happy days

now colored in forays of the scared body I bare

but let us care enough to stand, hand in hand in hand

and band together with glorious tether to hold my werewolf 

back again. 

I've bled you in your sleep and I weep black bile 

when I see my scars transposed onto your skin

and thin your blood for fear of what I've made you. 

Never constrained to beef my belief is what Daddy says, 

and He says we can survive. 

Please hold my gasps against me until we vent thee 

to new promises held in iron grips

that won't slip back into the deadly coma. 

Your aroma holds my hope

and a life long cope will take us into new

renewed bonds that I broke long ago. 

I didn't know. 

I didn't stop when I did. 

I didn't want but I did. 

Now I want you but I don't. 

I can't blame you if you won't. 

Just know

that every blow

bled me too. 

Let's lock forearms but not lips.

Let's hold away from sway hips

and bathe in waterfall graces

until we see my face is clean again;

until Daddy brings me home. 

A Salty Swim

A salty swim in tears of blue. 

Do you remember your cries too?

You have glass to hold you in. 

I only have eyelids and chagrin. 

A clean tank with friends. 

How does that life begin?

Face stuck in perma-grin.

How do fish learn to swim?

You've been contented a while. 

From in there you see for miles.

You see the world plain as day. 

You only have reason to stay. 

Though I'm stuck here for now,

to you, dear fish, I give a bow. 

So whether yet I stand or fall. 

I will learn to clear my walls.

Thanks to Rebecca for this Saturday's inspiration, "Saltwater Fish."

Bud Blooms

That awful song plays

And in a high heeled smock 

She starts down the isle. 

A hard earned piece of paper

Weights her grip

And three brothers feel their age. 

The last of mother's litter

Has passed through educating fingers,

And into the dawn.  

A new age, new era starts breathing

Though it feels as before. 

A soft transition into a hard reality. 

All the training will be used.

All the steam-covered meaning will be wiped clean. 

Now there's no denying,

No more covering the sun behind horizons,

No more dew in the lawn,

No way to disprove;

The bud is blooming. 

For Hannah when she graduated High School on April 28th, 2012.

Out of Words

Goodbye. 

I don't have anything to say today. 

My lips are tired of words with friends

and my tongue is depressed. 

My eye teeth are blind

and my lungs are out of hot air. 

I don't have anything to say today 

In the way of wars or stars or food

or money or politics or hobbies

or love or loss or rumors or broomsticks

or. . . 

A pretty lady is calling. 

I have lots to say. 

Hello?
Hey. 

Grace Face Haikus

Sweet mercy droplets

Saunter from your graceful face

Sing of Daddy's wings

A wonderful peace

Sweeps my feet in your smile

Hands lace griped fingers

Battered box respite

Full grace hand pulls spark to flame

You; His fingerprint

Sweet nectar across

Words formed in sunlights hopeful

Dew is mornings joy

Sullen thoughtful stare

Silent prayer for plain words full

Death brings better bond

War Within with Out

I apologize,

My fragile flower,

For the battles that are to come. 

The campaigns 

have been many. 

Not all have been won. 

The dredge filled bags

I've brought here. 

Will bite of enemies teeth. 

The sinful wreathe 

I've wrought here,

Will bear heavy weight and grief. 

But know that Father

will hold us close

against my bleeding heart. 

He will show us 

how to light the darkness 

and give us a restart. 

Cover my weeping fist

with your lovely,

with your light-filled hand.

And 'tween the three of us,

Father, you, and I,

We'll rebirth the land. 

Speckled Knight

The harbinger walks. 

A Cold stone step. 

A door knob twist. 

A white armored entry. 

The sun hides its face. 

Trees curl their arms. 

Mountains cry boulders

As the metallic smile enters. 

A soft hug and warm dress

Wraps deep around the plates. 

White gloves hold arms length. 

Fear drains a smooth face white. 

A twist holds tears

Until the dam bursts. 

The white tuned armor chips. 

Speckled knight destroys the day. 

White savior cleans up black. 

Damsel melts and puddles. 

The sun shines truth. 

The knight brings pain. 

Under Wings

I have always been a cliff stumble and an edge fall

But Your wings have always flown me. 

Desert highways to briar patch fires

But Your water soaked my bones. 

A knife twirl in my paper hand

But you broke gravity for instants. 

When I danced in the dragons maw

You kept its smile open wide. 

When I was caught in a fish wrapped net

You pumped oxygen into desperate lungs. 

Every moments when my eyes should black,

When my own devices should clench my life,

When my decisions burned a festered attack,

When I forced my hand to biting strife,

You protect my body and soul. 

Your mother hen love

And falcon wings,

Long-billed beak,

And heavenly sings,

Reminds who is in control. 

Lifeline

Blackened room changed smell.

First putrid whiff shifted eyes to see.

First time mirror showed rotted soul. 

Knees faltered cracking floorboards. 

Dark holed lungs fume mist in, out. 

Crooked eye dangled bloody drops forth. 

Unearthed moans agonize bitter cries.

Light-ended tunnel cast narrow lined hope.

Cross-formed hook dug deep in brittle bones. 

Waves flowed through air rushing dead ears.

Bliss fell canopied across wretched rotted back. 

Skin clasped across caverned gashes.

Eyes fulfilled sockets along stringed love.

Dark weights ascend as line tightens.

Hook catches heart and drags to feet. 

Blood rolls beaded down wire to veins.

Life flows through forgotten arteries. 

Feet flee earth in slow pulled tirade. 

Soft light balms cold muscles warm. 

Son's gaze draws slow rejuvenation. 

Home nears along one string song.








Thanks to Gypsee Yo for this Saturday's inspiration, "Trusting Jesus."

A Day's Vacation

Morning breath of unground coffee. 

Brewed fumes glisten down my soul. 

Sun winks through the trees. 

Crumbled cheese, spiced potatoes. 

Quiet light over pages sipped. 

New worlds and old lies. 

Heart throngs and cold tears.

Covers meeting covers. 

An oxenless yoke. 

A dead alarm clock. 

World tilts head and sighs. 

A full vacation. 

An Unthirsty Horse

Fourteenth day in a row and it just might be the one. Up at six to start a four mile hike. Flat but dusted. Ground is dust bunnies of scattered smut and frivoled bits of outside laughs. Lots of well renown and highly recommended dust. Sun blazing hot calling him to thirst. He used to sweat more when he would drink right, but it's been a while. I brush him down real well. Make his coat shine much as I can. Never did stop him from rolling in the muck.

We set off at six for four miles and a lapping stream he don't lap at. He can't hold his saddle anymore, poor guy. Lost his ability to carry anything. Can't hold is water. Heh. He thought his dust would be just fine. Nope. Just makes him look like everything else. He pants and pants and flicks his tail. Still just as dirty. Nothing to wash that dust off with. He knows about water back and forward but he don't taste it. Couldn't and still have all that dust. 

We walk right up to the rocks with the water running through their fingers. Nice calm pool in the stoney palm. Offered up real nice for him. He bends down for sniff. Knows the smell real well. Knows it's good water. Knows I'm waiting. But he don't drink. 

I wash up. Water dissolves the dirt and cleans me well. Up to my waist, soaking just fine. Nice and cool in the creek. Full of life and a peaceful pull. I nod my head back to invite him in. He stares blank then looks away. I splash at him a bit and he dodges. I'd even be happy if he would get some mud going. Any kind of water would be good for him. He don't know how sick he is. I smile and call his name. Trying to lure him to health and happiness. Nothing. 

Noon hits and still nothing. I pull out my copper cup and fill it a bunch of times, drinking it in deep gulps and grins. I fill it up and hold it to his snout. He snuffs it off. He's bored of it. How does he know bored? He ain't tried it. Not like he likes the dust all that much. Not really. Not as much as he thinks.

I sit next to him on the shore and start drying out a bit. Still sipping from my cup offering it to him occasionally. I close my eyes and pray his thirst'll be too much to take before his body gives up on him. He's thinned out, weak kneed, boney skeleton showing through. Couple of times I think he'll sip when I offer but he don't. Acts like he might but never does. Round seven I call it a day and we start walking back. 

Sun sets again. Lowering behind us and showing how gray the dirt is. Gray as he's getting. Hope he'll sip soon. Hope he'll come back to living. Hope he'll drink a full belly everyday. Doubt it sometimes. Hope it all the time. But there's no good in giving up, letting him die. Be back tomorrow. 

A Secret Love of City Titans

Towers become tunnels kissing the atmosphere. 

Halted breath wafts around the cylinders. 

People elevator to hide in the fog, unaware.  

Cars create the song between earth and sky. 

A swindled moment ports between the titans. 

Sky's glimmered hug sifts the earthen gaze. 

A taunt of smokey desires dangles just above. 

Just far enough away to smell, but not to taste. 

The sky-scraping bridges tease the stone-worked mask. 

The light filters cold through the transparent sheet. 

A mingled moment passes and taunts as it retreats. 

A hungry earth moves to nibble at a sky out of reach. 

They dance in brackish moments swearing pleasure. 

A drip here and a puff there swirl crossing loves smooth. 

And the innocent bystanders feel no moment above them. 

And the city hides the secret of their archaic passion.

Dead Set

Death be my sister

Mother bore my grave

Brother is the joker

and I am the knave. 

I took all of my brilliant intentions

and paved the road to Hell. 

I dug down to brackish oil

and drank deep the dead well. 

I knew every line as I crossed it

to a long decrepit home. 

It's the only map I've ever followed;

the only place I've been alone. 

Devils fly over my pace 

Laughing that I've come back. 

Lining streets with palm leaves

They have no need to attack.

Another block another mile 

From where I'd sworn my life against. 

Forgetting all the time ticks 

And sweet drips from Father's golden lips.

Death be my sister

Mother bore my grave

Brother is the Joker

and I am the slave.

Another mile, another fence

and my hands drip the oil black.

Glazed eyes hope for paradise

but the tunnel vision doesn't slack. 

They light the ends of treadmills

and I'll walk and run until

I've stretched my clothes and arrogance

until I fit the bill. 

Plugged ears repulse the noise

of Daddy calling into wide open hope.

But I want to burn my own light

and I'll walk my plank alone. 

Soiled clothes over a forgotten clean body

I have dirt but shine clean

I know I'm full forgiven, loved.

but I don't know what I mean. 

Death be my sister

Mother bore my grave

Brother is the Joker

and I am the craved.

I'll reach the pleasures housed

with blinders up and full fumed breaths. 

After all the fights and brawls

I'll never die worse deaths. 

My pearl pure demeanor

I burned on a pagan alter. 

Worshipful deliverance

is where I ever falter. 

A dark crystal calls me 

to burn the world inside

After all, who needs the Fire

to keep a spark alive?

Daddy weeps slow burned tears

and pierces a dart in my spine. 

His poisoned cure wraps the back

of my determined mind. 

Death be my sister

Mother bore my grave

Brother is the Joker

and I conclave.

I stop and tremble down as dead

with a beating heart to argue. 

With light droplets pouring in

by love I crumble subdued. 

A cherished thought turns me 'round

Lifts my limbs and head again

Squashes my selfish sparks

and in me lets His flame begin.

My luminescent skin

copies Daddy's glow

Returned now my face floods

I know, I know He knows. 

My oiled black palms

Drip sweat upon his face. 

He squeezes painfully wringing me out

And right hand returns me to my place.

Death be my scoffer

Mother sings me to praise

Brother holds open the offer

Father pours His grace.

A Cold, Wet Weeping

Shattered kneecaps below.

Simmering smile above. 

Bile soaked sobs rise.

Rain falls in sprinkled love. 

Humbled deadly pieces.

Pure gentled hand. 

Loving Father's hold.

Retcher in the sand. 

Joy expounds greater in pain. 

Coming home with paltry face.

The more to be forgiven,

The tighter the embrace. 

The Hunger Taxes

     Ever since they were young they showed so much potential. I raised them through hard work and through many years of just barely enough food. Now that they are stronger they're eligible. Now that The Day is here they are subject. We all dread April. 

     We're all called to the courtyard. They each sign in with excruciating detail. Each must account for how they came to be, when, why, for what purpose, if the were more business or pleasure, and the gray lines that blur between. They get blood signatures, DNA tests, MRI's, physicals, eyes and ears and teeth checked. Most of this is done ahead of time, but now their paperwork is due. Now they are due. 

Names. Their names go into the bowl. I hold them tighter. Little George is the smallest and quite nervous. It's his first time being eligible. Abe grabs his hand and Andrew, much bigger than the others, forms up behind them and rest his hands on their shoulders. All three have always helped each other. They would protect each other from mistakes, keep careful track of what they did, hold each other close. Make sure they never wandered too far or too carelessly. I've done my best to guide them but there's only so much I can do. The law is the law. 

     The town clock ticks down to The Minute. I see drops fill the dirt by their feet. They remember Benjamin. 

     Ben was just old enough to be balding early. He took hold of my shaking hand and tried to comfort me after they called his name. I couldn't speak. Couldn't cry. That would come later. He was so close to being too old. There comes a time when he's just too big to be ignored. Ben was always big. They dragged him slowly away. He went peacefully, somberly. It seemed to be in slow motion. He left a hole I haven't been able to fill again. Even with all the other boys. 

     Each family had to pay. It wasn't that I wondered if one of my boys would be taken, it was a matter of which one. Every year was a sacrifice. Every year the Gov grew stronger. And every year they rest of us lost someone dear. All the work, all the love, all the care and precision just to be ripped so cleanly, so precisely, and left empty. At least I had my other boys. Maybe I could have more by next year. Maybe not. 

     If I had to pick, I'd hope it's George. I know it's cruel, but it's true. He's the smallest. It's easier to stay alive with the big ones. I found that out after I lost Ben. 

     We walk into the cold room after our last name is called. We huddle together as much as we can and they pull a name. "George," they say. I sigh, Open my wallet, kiss his flat, green head, and give him to the Gov. Abe and Andrew both start sobbing. I hold back my tears and they escort us out.

     Another victim. Another hero. Another boy I'll never see again. 

     These are the pains of the Hunger Taxes. 

Outdoors Pours In

Placid light drones bright,

Day and night with all its might. 

The blight string me a kite

To slight my fighting rights. 

The clock tick end

To begin again

The thin spin

Of faded grin. 

The door pours 

The sun more 

Toward the desk gore

That 'morrow implores.

I was suddenly transformed

By the warm storm

As daylight's reform

Performed  a stiff backed deform. 

The bile left my smile

A while while my style

Reviled the chair shaped nile

Of my spine's fertile. 

Outside is alive

And my stride strived

To jive chive's flavors

And revive my surviving soul. 

Thanks to Amy for this saturday's inspiration of "Anywhere Outdoors."

Flat Tax

Super fight!

Bite the blighting 

sights of mights 

making rights

and thrifting

a rifting

through bored 

sock drawers

and pockets 

locked and leaking 

to floors. 

All my money,

Honey,

Was paid to people

ready to take

and left a wake

of a constitutional glitch

to scratch an itch

of a long numb bottom

that's been plumping

for a decade now. 

One day 

a fair display

will pay

a price

that's nicer

than spliced

mites

limiting heights

and reaches 

beseeched

to speeches 

of outside smiles

and inside biles

digesting 

another's intestine. 

The brass breaking

of convoluted tax taking

rakes too many fakes

through the think forks splay

and roasts another's egg

and the plague grounds increase. 

Why can't we care

for simple and fair

instead of pimples

and glares

of maybe you's

and not me's. 

We flee the fleas

yet the tree's roots

boot our basic banter

to chanters

who shant

rant against

the pretence

because it's hard to lift mountains. 

Lift up eyes

and prizes worth fighting for

and door needed to explore

and save jobs and money

and lands milked for honey

and breathe a fair breath

of stressless death

for a flat rate

congregate

that increases value. 

Shall you?

Shall I?

or will April 15th

always make us cry?

Starting Line Haikus

Floating for surface
Burned lungs hope a cool breeze breath
Death feels like living

Downed gate fuels my sweat
Engine burns in clenching fists
Light burns bright yellow

Slow globe blizzard burst
Flame fumes from boiled cauldrons
Steam fills atmosphere

Running feet planted
Potential reverberates
Sound the gun's chorus

Vows shared and bells toll
Crowed waits departure joyous
Now the doves fly free

Opening Night

Many breathes together

held tight in sweaty fists. 

Weeks of work and learning

have all come down to this. 

Whispers smile backstage

the lightning slowly churns.

We dance into our places

prepared with what we've earned. 

The audience hushes still

and sit in edged seats delight.

We curl our wanting fingers

and up come the lights. 

Dentist Puns

An actual conversation I had with Ian Alexander. Big thanks to him. Enjoy. 

Ian: So I'm finishing up a paper on tooth eruption. It bites.

Andrew: that kind of thing really makes me grit my teeth.

Ian: Whoa now. Don't get mouthy.

Andrew: I'm just trying to get to the root canal of the problem.

Ian: Hm. You have put a dentin my argument

Andrew: Just filling the conversation. Sorry if it makes you ache

Ian: Meh. I just brush it off.

Andrew: I only want to be inscisorful

Ian: You're very good at this. You deserve a plaque. Unless you don't understand the cavity of the situation

Andrew: It helps that I work in ITeeth. I was once crowned king. I really know the drill.

Ian: You certainly have a large impact. I love extracting this info from you. All of your wisdom. 

Andrew: It's a lot of fun. neither of us are gum gums. We're really infecting one another.

Ian: I'd love to implant more of these puns, but I must continue my paper. I hate depriving myself of them though, it really is my floss.

Andrew: It bristles my back that you have to go. just put your back to the grind stone and keep molar-ing. P.S. can I post this as my blog for tomorrow? Kind of made my day.

Ian: Absolutely. It certainly made me smile. Though I'm afraid the material may chip away the amount readers you have.

Andrew: That's ok. I'll paste them back together. They be in mint condition.

Ian: Then I'm all for it. And that's the tooth.

Andrew: It was good flapping lips at each other. Hope you get a prize for doing so well.

Ian: Well right now I'm at a standstill. I feel like the cat's got my tongue. I'm choked up. If you don't believe me, you can ask my man "Dibble." Though he's a bone head.

Andrew: That depressors me. You enamel me with your skill. Makes me stand in Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

Ian: If I wasn't sitting on the floor I'd stand up and stretch for a moment.

Andrew: Just lean back in a chair for now. You get Novocain-tion yet.

Patience Cola

A twist cap held shut. 

Shake it shake it shake it up.  

Hiding under pressure.

bemusing until burst. 

Unleash the tempting hoard?

Give into the thirst?

What's the best that could happen?

Only the worst. 

Melt tight the plastic bottle

Hold everything in for now. 

Wait long for glorious showers

Don't lose it all with a pow. 

Blackened Wheat

Wheat swings the field of black
Flies filled each vessel; slain seeds.
Sun burns across chaff in attack.
Broken armor cannot breathe.

One head stands unbroken amidst the Fall.
Pure brown padding never soiled.
From the same ground birthed yet through all
Flacking mire unspoiled.

Wind and rain bitter flaunt him.
Beat him black to flies renown.
Launch in swarms just to taunt him.
Wreath him in biting crown.

All the flies now rise and stutter.
Rush the only still-strong wheat.
Death filled love now totters.
Broken stalk seems full defeat.

Black crusted wings now cover
Former light, freedom and hope.
Other wheat feel laughing flutter.
Knowing new life to be a joke.

Days wait and seems as years.
Long weights drag souls down.
Few wheat fill with tears.
All now know they soon will drown.

From the floor bursts a fuel of green.
Lush light and hope dispels the black.
Vines and stalks as never seen
Grew defeating Death's attack.

Through single stalk springs new hope
all can see and be completely healed.
For flies have ever lost their cope.
When one wheat dies, new life is sealed.

Gelatinous Ice Mage

Morning light showed the brilliance

as condensation swept down its cheek. 

The gleam of its eyes drifted my wandered breathe

to smolder at its rainbow array.

My tongue, a drop of saliva 

seeking a wondered lush

that evades to memories lost. 

O Gelatinous Ice mage, where hath thine journey left thee?

'Twas once forthright that thou blood flowed in my veins

but all in vain as my mirror flows tears of misfortune. 

Did not I, in all the jonesed swelling,

buy legions of you in furvented passion?

Did not my labors find purchase from corporate pockets

and swell my tsunamis of love for thee?

Harken back to me from times lost!

Sooth my lust with though sleek, wetted glance!

O Gelatin Pops, Sign me full stroked to contract thee 

until my bitter bones bequeath. 

Anticipation

Drizzled dew anticipation. 

Pulsing to the breeze. 

Trees dance in frustration. 

Happy mind but no ease. 

Cracked skin that can't bleed. 

Desires martyr awaits reward. 

Dry lips with liquid need. 

Broken levy, look for the hoard. 

Joy in the horizon's grin. 

A trumpet 'fore Calvary's charge.

Bliss in almost-full's layer thin.

Bread soaking first drop of marge. 

Half of a pleasure is the desire for it. 

Delusionfrenia

Point the finger.

Gavel down. 

Cruel smile. 

Broken frown.

A tiny judge hid the alter 

Behind the curtain, 

But don't look.

A brother stabbed 

The backwards stare

And twisted into a crook. 

He denied his own acquittal

And took blood into his hands.

He condemned himself a little

And struck up his own band. 

His marching on marathon

Built his self-ward slices red.

He burned his clothes and froze his body

Forgoing his own bed. 

On this solidly uncertain rock he stands.

Earthquake rhythm and safely bound hands.

An illusion never broke him

But the truth just might.

But sweeter are the homemade pills

And the bitter way they bite. 

Hope one day the grind will find him. 

That Daddy's love crushes him thin,

Boils His powder in the furnace

And engraves His fingerprints again. 

Darkness will not lift

A blanket wrapped thick and gripped

'Til his fingers free

Surprise Haikus

Atlanta moist moonlight
Fries, and a frosty accompany
A Lyndsay surprise

Unexpected joy
Anticipated longing
Clock separates us

Frosty melts, fries cool
I hope their residue works
It's all that's left now

Little things are key
Timing is soft rotation
Big smiles unlocked

Writing to bide time
Sloppy haikus proceed forth
Totally worth it







dictated by Lowrey Brown...

Miss You

I wait and and want

and drink a preservative. 

I try to burn time

and I'm not conservative. 

I rot through my daylights

And time's thrum all day,

Yet whenever your gone

I want you to stay. 

I practice your absence

In hopes to improve,

But my rehearsal falls flat

And I'm an empty rube. 

So heres to desire

And daydreaming blue, 

Aiming precisely,

and missing you. 

Lemon Icecream

Birthday sprinkles

eyes that twinkle

and a hope that things will last. 

This once a year

filled with joyous cheer

will soon be lambaste. 

A cone filled

with a generous heap. 

Frozen, shaken, and scooped. 

And the heat

will make it weep

as the mountain starts to droop. 

Smiles melt

at feeling felt

into frowns drowned and drained. 

Hearts seep

and cannot keep

and final grins are fiend. 

Counting lemons

mocking gremlins

Cause me worry not. 

A hair flip

at the cone's drip

and I took like a shot.






Co-created with Jeff Lester. 

Without Sense

Without eyes

you're beautiful. 

Your smirked lips

pierce darkness. 

Without ears

you're boisterous. 

Your song

breaches soul. 

Without nose

you're exotic. 

A foreign meal

tantalizing mind. 

Without fingers

you embrace. 

Wrapped spirit

comforter. 

Without flavor

you satisfy. 

Revitalize 

a body drained.