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views misconstrued. miscarriage
of belief, religion…


Crossing the street,

In the midst of the crosswalk

Between traffic, BAM it hits me….

I have never rubbed elbows with the rich and wealthy

Except on an east side train to the village…


Watching Friends marathon

Boxers and socks

Alone in bed

6 glasses of pinto grigio later, BAM it hits me…

Love doesn’t know me,

Loneliness is my only friend and (my) life is empty…


Standing in the midst of a city that never sleeps

Promotes a naked cowboy

But arrests a human Spider-Man showing his talents, scaling its tallest building

Shoots innocent men 40 some odd times

Beats another for rushing to a City Council meeting and BAM it hits me…

For 34 years I’ve lived here

2 failed relationships, three and half years locked away in the mountains and 4 children later

I think its time for a change…


When did it hit you???


today when i awoke
as usual i brushed my teeth
and glared in the mirror at the reflection it held
at first sight i couldn’t tell the face before me
but as i sat in awe
and wondered where i knew this mans face from
it came to me like a dream
this was a man born to a church
that as years grew on
he felt had abandoned him
a mother who did not know him
sisters that could not understand him
and the streets loved him more then he had respect for
this man i stare at in confusion
was broken
and left out in the cold to freeze
but found a small light that led him to grams of coke
that brought him new clothes and shoes
a home far beyond his dreams
above in the mountains
where he found a friend that embraced him the way he wished his mother did
and from then poetry never left him
and has given him dreams of fame and riches
hopes of one day making it big
open mics, book deals
touching those lost the same as him
and hopefully he then can put his past behind his shadow
where he will no longer have to worry ‘bout those demons
and carnal sins reaching out to bring him back
into the reality he has tried for 27 years to escape…

                (ACT I, SCENE one)

I wrote this poem many years for a woman that was diagnosed by doctors as being in a persistent vegetative state. Her state of being became a highly publicized and prolonged series of legal challenges presented by the parents and by state and federal legislative intervention effected in total a seven-year delay before life support finally was terminated.

Life and death have no partnership
and I have lived,
fought to survive the cold in mans heart
took part in that I was given but now must depart
The End of Days are upon me
so every breath I take I savor
mind in a jumble,
unable to fend off death and say I,
want to live
or maybe I,
am ready to die
leave this hell behind and claim my spot in the sky beyond the stars.
I have held on for 13 years
and for 13 days and a dozen nights
those who felt death was more potent then my life
I have proved you wrong
and let you know that only God
can say when it’s time for me to go on home… 

   dedicated to Terri Schiavo

April 1,2005

**I started writing this after the current hurricane -Irene-and it just taking form. I wanted to speak as the rain. as the water. as mother nature (to an extent). Tell what you really think did I capture it?

Revision dates:

  • 29 August, 2011 @ 16:20 by Da Poets Corner dot com
  • 26 August, 2011 @ 9:42 by Da Poets Corner dot com

 the pitter patter sounds of rain drops

kissing my window pane

loneliness, washing the filth away

drizzling down the skirts of what once was my life

flooding the ducts of tear wells like an emotional river

 crashing against that once brick wall I’ve finally overcome

sweeping many of my dreams away

eroding the sands of my mental terrain

like I’m growing closer to the end

swaying, my limbs blown in the late Summers breeze

losing pieces of myself  like Fall and Winters leaves

growing colder

bolder as I beat upon walls

looking to wash out the foundation that once stood many years of turmoil

nothing seems to calm the rage of words that storm from these lips

filling these lines

with the passion that drips from my pens tip

like pheromones seeping through the pores of a young anxious male ready to pounce on his first act of adulthood

I am your fear

been for many years

they have predicted my wrath

built boats of steel and wood

hid in high-rise structures

like I couldn’t sweep their feet from beneath them


my path is undetermined

I move like the wind

sometimes I just say fuck it and storm down:


is what they call me when I’m displaying such anger

you can’t dodge me

you can’t escape

my reign is superior I can even affect your emotional state:

its S.A.D.

seasonal affective disorder

I’m gloomy

while my counterpart is happiness:

we’re like RAIN & SUNSHINE

I dampen and ruin days 

while she can make any day full of  joy and fun

but fuck it I don’t need an introduction

I am who I am cause you have made this way

made my words spew violently like vomit from my lips

you’ve tried holding me back with your levies and dams

but still I flushed you away

wiped out the wicked

and destroyed your violent dens

I have caused enough damage and destruction so you will respect my work

 but still you disregard my power

my rage

my anger

the slight of my hand coming down on you like if I was a god


but you need be wary the next time I arrive

I will take you all you disrespect me



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