What do I know.

Salted to keep the grass from beating

A seed of indifference and

A blade of sacrifice.

Inward goes the eye

To stop us from seeing what

Is right in front of us

The rung is put just out of reach

To make you stretch and

Lose footing on the rung below

I may have said too much

I may have lost touch

With the words placed in each row

I never said I would know

Fade to the blank


My Brother. RIP.

He was my big brother
The bully and the protector
My opposite and my friend
Larger than life
Louder than life
He was quick to anger
And quicker to laugh
I miss the bully
I miss my protector
I miss the anger
I miss my opposite and friend.
And I miss that laughter
We were as close as brothers can be
And I loved him as a brother does…
My big brother

The Rip.

It was a loud noise, not a boom, but a rip in the air. All eyes looked up at the sky. All eyes around the entire globe looked for the source of the noise. Over time it was placed in the backs of memory, in time most forgot the strange noise.

When it happened again, louder than before, loud enough to shake a mountain and upset the waves on every ocean, no one forgot and attention was placed firmly on the tear in the sky.

Within 6 months the cult of the end was across the globe. Men women and children sure that the end was coming. There were riots and looting on a scale unprecedented in human history. There were deaths, not just by the rioters, but by suicide. Governments held grand councils to try to figure out how to calm the minds of those sure the end was coming.

The third rip shook the planet with a mild rumble. Nothing that caused much damage, but it was every corner of the earth. The cult of the end dropped to their knees to pray, the rest spurned with fear and anger, took to the streets. Armies were called in to stop the carnage, this only created more carnage and within 4 days 20% of the world’s population was no more.

The sheer depth of the loss was too much for many leaders. Governments lost those that lead them by gun, rope or knife. Over a billion people lost to insanity and attempts to stop it. Bodies were left where they lay and slowly the world slipped into disease. Hospitals were over crowded and unable to keep up with the sheer numbers of ill and injured. Many closed their doors and soon basic care was unavailable to most.

This was the state of the world when the final rip was heard and felt across the land. The noise was loud enough to drop every human to their knees holding their ears to block the painful blare of the end. The power of it shattered mountains, drove towering waves to the shores of the kneeling masses. Long dormant volcanoes burst with fire and the plates that all lived on shifted violently.

The air became thin and full of dust. Those left living slowly struggled to get a breath as the atmosphere bled into space. The sun was the last to pay a visit, finally able to shine all its power on the earth. The land started to burn as the planet turned through the day.

This was the end for those still on the earth…


soliloquy of the dead.

and in the brief light of day,
upon my face it came to stay,
a dark shadow spurned by naught,
‘cept the the conjurings of thought.

in this brief light of day,
the flickering likes to play,
shrouding head and mind,
with some evil left to bind.

I see little in this in this dark,
though the sun is raw and stark,
something caught behind my eyes,
convincing me of half truth lies.

the weary traveler am I,
never leaving this false blue sky,
forever wondering inside my cell,
how far in mind I have fell.

and yet the sun dips its head,
and the shadows are no longer fed,
my eyes are clear with lost sight,
without the shade so bright.

in blackness i see again,
a cold but wondrous friend,
I lay me down to blissful sleep,
knowing the sun continues to creep.

goodnight sweet friends I call to wind,
the comforting man in the moon has grinned,
the stars have sung a lullaby,
my breath seeps a restful sigh.

I wait the shadows still to come,
with lullaby’s tune on lips to hum,
I do not wish these shadows of day,
with death there is a price to pay.

Memory lost without regret.

And I listened to echoes,

as they rang through my head,

like images whispered,

from the long since dead.

And I wondered their meaning,

as I strained to hear,

voices as familiar,

as a lost loves tear.

And I went dreaming,

on a past left to die,

the pallbearers carried me,

as the echoes said goodbye.

And I regret nothing,

from a grave made by me,

for life is a journey,

it is what it will be.


Back of the Line.


You sitting over there,

With your pressed suit,

and crisp white tie…

Who are you?

You look at me!

You judge me!

Because of my old shoes,

And wrinkled grey pants,

My frayed tie,

My off white shirt,

You think you know me,

You judge me,

Fuck you!

And your crisp white tie!

And your shiny black shoes,

and your perfect hair…

Yeah I don’t have hair…

I have experience,

and children,

I have lived, loved, laughed, cried…

and then I died…poorly…

…and you judge me?


You want me,

I’ll be at the back of the line…

Fucking angels.





A solemn vow,
To the gods that be,
A twisted view,
Of infinity,
Like a putrid stink,
From the pits of greed,
Forever mistaken,
For misplaced need,
Turn from signposts,
Painted red,
Markers indifferent,
For the dead,
And in this hole,
This pretended life,
I cut slim pieces,
With rusted knife,
So smile your smiles,
Of forgotten spite,
And live in blindness,
This endless night.