Poverty

What is the definition of poverty
to a man who has never seen a friend on the corner
of fifth and sixth, shivering on the doorstep
of a woman who does not bother to ask his name.
What does it mean to a man who never has to wonder
what it is like to dump change on the counter
of the corner store, hoping to have enough
to survive another night of stale cigarettes
and unpaid bills; children too young
to understand why their clothes come from
the siblings just older than them,
and not the mall the same as their classmates,
never knowing the feel of new clothes.
Where does the perception lie
to a man who has no concept of worth;
one who believes $8.50 is liveable under
the weight of student loans and medical debt,
as if there is a penny to spare into savings
that would otherwise pay for tomorrow night’s dinner.
How do you teach the reality of what it means to survive
to a man who has always had everything
and has never known what it is like to have nothing?


Check out my newest book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

These Hands Speak Volumes

I had a voice tied to these hands,
filthy whitewashed ink stains,
painting dismembered sentences
on the torso of the innocent;

These hands speak out at the pew,
whisper under the weight of the priest;

They scream to repent every massacre,
every successful attempt at bloodshed
by the hand of the sword wielded
in an unforseen grasp.


Check out my newest book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Misplaced

Tongue shackled to the moon-
A butterfly with wings clipped
And a bat without hearing;
Nature split and broken
Away from how it was destined-

But still in the dark walks the sun,
Tossing around its nourishment
To a system whose cycle is forgotten;
Time and death an illusion for the soul
Searching for what was once made to be whole,
Not lying in pieces of a tarnished past-

What else is to become of an outcast
Fallen from everything that was once expected,
But peace only found in afterlife?


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!
 

Close Your Eyes and Listen

Before I disappear into a fine mist
clinging to your cheeks on a night
where the moon mourns the loss of an angel;
I want God’s tears to remind you
that there is love after loss,
and peace after chaos.
I want to leave my words to the wind,
calling softly to your delicate ears;
a song sung in a code only you can define.
Let it carry through every pore, every crevice,
feel the tickle of their syllables
flow silently into your entire being;
Relish in the sound of a broken soul
piecing together every scrap fallen
on its way to deliver such a message.


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Hair-Tied Up in Madness

My hair is a prelude to my mental illness,
an introduction to the dissatisfaction with stability within me;

The first time I ever dyed my hair, I was sixteen,
a peak in the development, rather lack thereof;
my brain once a high-functioning factory,
now a run-down fun house,
cracked mirrors replacing every assembly line
that used to cycle through its daily quota.

The last time I dyed my hair,
it was just a month after cutting away a weathered ceiling,
dipping and bowing against the weight
of years drowned in this disorderly environment.
The sight of the goldengrass speckled chunks falling
to an unkept, unswept floor, sent shockwaves
down my spine, leaving behind a buzzing sensation
of power that having control over change contains.

But now, I plan to let my hair grow natural;
I’ve lived in the looney bin for as long as I can remember,
and despite the wallpaper being molded,
and the ground not being made of marbled granite,
it is a place I’ve found comfort in, a home with hope;
There are renovations to be had, new memories to be made,
and aspirations to attain.


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Opaque

I’m not supposed to feel this way;

like a firefly lost in a forest,
always to be unseen by your brilliant eyes;

like a frog floating on a lily pad
too far from the shore.

There is clarity before dawn,
but blindness in the day;

and I am not to feel
as a rat searching for a crumb

while you’re far away dreaming
of a honey bee napping on lilacs
against an auburn sky

resting its gaze upon your lips,
just barely alive
through the cracks in the trees.


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Simon Says

We live in a world of adaptations;
If you blink too slowly, you’ll fall behind
in the newest revelation.
The mob mentality has grown in size,
divided rivals on the same battlefield,
he who screams the loudest wins the lead;
strength is now a biased opinion.
A city crumbles when left with no structure,
but becomes abandoned when in wake
of control.


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Care Less

Inhaling second hand smoke
and stumbling around shards of glass
always went unnoticed by you.
You favored lethal limits
and nights so dark,
I began to write in white out,
hoping to mask the mistakes
forever lost in the farthest closets
of your consciousness;
While I was always forced
to observe through the two-way
you never cared enough to look in.


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Winter

It is truly cold for the first time in months,
and the stars have never provided such warmth;
My body trembles, holding back the fire
projected back into the skies,
and I have never loved the icey kisses
on my fingertips more than I do now.
I’ve never craved the lively feeling
of winter grazing across the soft skin
on the base of my neck more
than on a night this gentle.
The calmness tends to create a bite
somehow harsher than the weather outside.


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!

Keep Quiet

How are you to act, when there is
a bouquet of faces daring you to speak,
waiting for the opportunity to snag
the daylight pouring out of a mouth
that forgot how to remain closed
in that moment of weakness
between labored breaths;
When even a whimper allows greedy hands
to pry open the lips, contaminating
someone holding on to the only thing
keeping them from becoming infected
with a guilty conscience?


Check out my new book Penny Poetry, now available on Amazon!