DOT COM Y’ALL

GOING OFFICIAL AT WWW.SNGBLR.COM

I’M PLANNING ON WRITING MORE THAN JUST BAD POETRY.

THANK YOU.

Aesop’s Prenup

Where were we the moment

when we imbued hatred and contempt?

On a rocky path in the forest of life,

Thoughtless children with no compass.

I can not recall specific places, though

I’m fairly certain our selves was shipwrecked.

No one is ever innocent,

And all those tales told

can not fully be believed, and

No one but the liar is relieved,

And I’m not sure fables are always spot on.

So let’s talk awhile about who we are now,

And reminisce about all those ugly nights.

You were the wolf, I the fox.

How good did we mistreat each other?

There was time long ago we were married in red,

Erratic, lonely shepherds of dishonesty.

Time marched, bringing out the the impostor,

Disguises are no longer a necessity.

Some liars are sentenced to a stunted growth,

Abandoned inside their own mouthy delusions,

To bask in their own self righteous judgements,

So be it, unmasked, I attempt to trust and to rest.

Black Friday

 

Hey!!! We are all looking forward to this! It is going to be a great night, so if you live in NYC don’t miss this!

Bring It On

I Am of Death

Salinger’s Bunker

I ache for the gift of telepathy,

For kisses, and black and white pictures.

I want you to be an extension of me,

and we, together, wear the masks of scavengers.

 

She said, “Let me in!”

and waited in the silence.

I want to open up more than anything

It’s just I don’t know if I can.

 

Phoenix

Hermagoras of Whitestone

I want to know who lives in that dark house

Around the corner, what Rene Magritte was

Thinking about when he painted those shrouded lovers,

When will I believe in myself, why do I feel compelled

To create anything at all, and how will I ever grow?

How do others make decisions, and what is normal.

What did Sibelius feel when he wrote his violin concertos.

Why do I hear footsteps when no one is home but me,

What’s frightening is the only thing I know about is being lonely.

Forces of Satan Storms

Valentine’s Day In Junior High

We kiss, and our tongues make an alliance,

The sacrilege at the end of a long bar,

The patrons hate public displays of affection

But not us, we can’t help ourselves,

We’re begging for bite marks and bruises,

Our conjoined mouths are intelligent machines,

well oiled with beer and whiskey,

Her eyes scream “Tell me more, more, more.”

Our knees mingle as our legs dangle

Off stools as tall as the tower of babel,

We are hung up on power lines.

I want to know you better than anyone.

We can eat whole days, and never get our fill.

Everything you said is exactly what I wanted to hear,

But before you speak I just want you to be sure.