I’m so sick of all the empty talk

You boys forgot how to walk the walk

Where did all the cowboys go

What is all this timidity

All this yes-I-do-but-no-not-really

You reach out but you don’t mean it

and I am so tired of you not meaning it

I don’t want some half-assed fantasy

I don’t want you wanting the idea of me

You ask me out but you don’t follow through

Didn’t you get taught that’s what real men do?

Someone let you down big time, boy

Society or family or hey — blame women wanting equality

I don’t know what the fuck happened

But manhood is lost

Wounded to the point of impotence

And I can’t take more impotence

I’ve got my own to deal with

I want a man who is a man

Who has not lost touch with what makes him that

All these fucking disappearing acts

I don’t believe in any of you anymore

I don’t think you believe in yourselves either

But I can’t fucking do it for you

I can’t do it for you

You have to do it for yourself

And don’t you dare fucking call me until you do


Piece of Me

I was thinking about why I never wrote you

Why I said I’d get back

and didn’t

And I’m sorry

I just didn’t have it in me

I didn’t find it there —

that Thing

There is too much Nothingness for me

In the in-between

I guess this time it’s on my side, ironically

And I’m sorry

I’m sorry you are where you are

I’m sorry I can’t work so hard

For anyone


Tears come to my eyes

and I cry

‘cause Something inside me has died

And I think it might be a good thing

But that don’t stop these tears from dropping

Funny how we can mourn the loss of an Unhelpful Thing

Or Way of Being

Death is still a death

I suppose

And so

I try

To let these tears flow

To let you go

But I know you do not go alone

You go along

with a piece of me


What Else Is There?



You tell me to trust —

Surrender —

And I try

But the memories of failure still live

Rejection burned in my mind

Why is Unrequited Love so easy to find?

Seems like the laundry keeps spinning

But it ain’t gettin’ clean

He goes after her, and she goes after someone else

Et cetera, et cetera…

You know what I mean

And so we go — just chasing the dream

Some kind of twisted fantasy

One disappointment after another

Another serving of Passionless Whatever

Oh, yes, another helping for me, please!

Plopped down on my plate like prison-cafeteria slop

You start to feel like you’ve tried everything

Putting yourself out there

Holding yourself in

Taking a date because, well, he’s nice

Refusing the date because he’s just…nice

But that Essence is missing

That thing that breaks a person wide open

So I ask You —

What is there to trust?

Broken open doesn’t often last even when it happens

Diamonds just turn back to dust

So my shaken prayer is this and always this –

Just let me Accept

Because really –

What else is there?


Trust is a Bitch

Trust is a bitch

Disguised as some Perfect Thing

Trust is a trick

Bound by human weakness

Trust I think is meant to be broken

They tell us so many lies but

Trust is like anything else –

Susceptible to human foibles

And therefore, imperfect

We try

We take steps

But inevitably something breaks

Trust is broken

Perhaps True trust

Real Trust

Is staying with each break

And putting it back together again

This Lonely “I”

Tried to love you a thousand times
But I gave too much of myself away
Been scrambling like a maniac
To get all those precious pieces back
Slow-going though
(And some decayed)
They tell me out of rotten things…
Yeah I’ve heard that out of death?
A brand new Something’s born again
Better than what’s left
I wonder though – about those pieces
The ones I’ve tried to grasp
And breathe life into once again
Make meaning of my past
Is it worth it when I’m so alone
While my heart just hopes and hopes
Going on and on like It don’t see
The rope around my throat
I tried to love you a thousand times
And a thousand more than that
Was I doing Love all wrong?
Have I given This for That?
I have no answers as I move
There are no fairytales, methinks
Oh, what a crushing childhood lie
No prince
Nor knight
Nor one true love
But only this lonely

Ashes on the Floor

I think I love you

In a way love should never be

For there is a thing as Too Much Heat

Burns up our touch on Reality

Then there’s no place to return to

When the fire dies down

Like fires do

There’s a mad dash out the door


And frankly, it don’t matter if it’s you or me

One of us will have to run away

Fantasy something humans can’t sustain

What would it be like to learn to love the steady flame?

‘Stead of craving this insane raging heat

The Energy in you that brings me to my knees

But here we are, Combusting

I was a fool to think either of us can leave

Blissfully trapped in scorching chemistry

Ignited by other-worldly sparks

The kind that die out as quickly as they burst and flash

And set our silly souls ablaze



We find ourselves

In ashes on the floor.



Black Widow

I feel long, spidery-limbs reaching out of the sky

Or sitting, Heavy, in the corner of the room



She is the Atom Bomb,


But no one can see her venomous, toxic waves of breath

Infecting, dissecting,

Rejecting us

There is no milk or honey here

No willow tree or baby’s breath

Only Her insidious Neglect

And her insatiable urge to Trap

To suffocate us in her hairy grasp

Like Saran or cellophane




In clear webs we do not know

We are in

Sad little ignorant



The Bullet Rose

Did you know…

There is a name for a rose that never blooms?

It closes so tightly in on itself that it cannot open.

They call it the Bullet Rose.

It never gets the glorious, torturous Break Down that screams, “Yes! Yes I am alive!”

Instead its petals are like arms crossed defiantly over a chest refusing to let any feeling in.

And isn’t that the Real Tragedy?

Because something happens in the breakdown:

It is the undefinable Mark of Chaos;

A mark that becomes clear-cut only by its utter Confusion where




Going into total Dissolution;

Caterpillar liquifies

Suffers to become butterfly

And so, too, do I.

I know by now It is coming.

Ah but I fight it, I fear the pain.

“Not again

Not again.”

But yes.


That is where Acceptance comes in

And having a memory that can hold onto knowing

That the Break is never The End.

We either evolve or regress or worse yet…

Stay fixed;

Hiding too long in one place

We erroneously believe is safe.

Like the poor Bullet Rose

That never gets the Beauty of the Break.

Nor the Resurrection that is only faithful moments


The Choice

Drunk on love feelings, oxytocin, and wine

They stumble, giddy, out into the dark night street

An “oops” wine stain on a white shirt followed by a giggle

As he offers “let me get that for you”

And his hand brushes her breast

A blush lighter than the wine spreads across her cheeks

Soul-gazing stares and “no one gets me like you do” thoughts

And the mutually used — over-used word — said to friends

“It’s like…we have this connection..

The long make-out sessions where “we can’t have sex yet” she whispers

“Trust issues”

He’s okay with it

A gentleman can handle the Blue Frustration

And she sees this

So then, one day, they do.

About 3 months in – maybe 6 (if they’re lucky)

The buzz wears off and he starts to think “she seems pretty needy, emotional, complex…”

And she starts to think “he is closed-off, overly practical and frankly, kind of boring…”

They each long for that Original Night that seemed to last forever

Where everything just clicked,

Fell away…

And they saw only the Good Soul Essence

But it is a different night.

No more fantasy

No more drunken romantic-movie-like illusions about Princes or Goddesses.

They stand facing one another

Truly naked for the first time

Each one must decide

If they want to love a human being

Or an ideal

If they want the thing they say they want:

Actual True Love.

Lovers Lane

Well you were just a memory:

A fallen leaf off a winter’s tree.

And so I left you – blatantly —

There on the cold, barren street.

I found no more You for me –

A once-green leaf now brown and weak;

A final teardrop etched down your cheek –

Brittle, dying – you chose to sleep!

Became the shriveled leaf in that cursed street.

If only I could have changed your mind,

Why, I would have made it so!

I ache to think how you gave in,

How your cracks began to show.

Then…Nothing More was left of you…

So Winter made it snow.

I could not mourn that haunted night

Nor those that passed by after.

I stayed frozen (to the snow’s delight) –

Feared the memory of your laughter.

But the snow did melt, ‘course the leaf was gone…

No trace You ever existed.

In its place the sweetest pain –

The pain I had resisted.

I welcomed Her now,

Wretched heaviness came —

From Winter’s numb to Springtime rain;

Perhaps with time, my love will fade…

My hope for an ever-after.

Now you are just a memory:

A fallen leaf off a winter’s tree

It was you who left me – blatantly —

There on the cold, barren street.