Category Archives: Spoken Word

40 Years

I have come a long long way
40 years in a desert I don’t always remember
over a landscape I cannot always forget
Its desolate trees
its menacing winds
to its kelly green grasses glazed in
a hue of deliciously orange sky covered hills
Yes, I have come a long long way
I have come a long long way
40 years through mountains of growing I don’t always remember
through valleys I cannot always forget
its stained carpets
its menacing trivializations of beauty
to its kind words covered in glorious reassurances
by fathermother hands my own and not always my own
Yes, I have come a long long way
I have come a long long way
40 years across oceans of learning I don’t always remember
under currents I cannot always forget
Its pull towards the dreams of my father
Its yank towards the dreams of my mother
to the northern stars of my own come
like brilliant diamonds in a setting
made for me by the gods which
I fled for 10 and found I could not resist
any longer.
Yes, I have come a long long way
I have come a long long way
40 years in a desert I don’t always remember
over a landscape I cannot always forget
thirst and hunger subsided with stamps
shame and regret hidden under second hand pants
to the values of love and sacrifice beautifully written
on the back side of encouragement
in courage meant
to be the foundations of my life
and it was successful
Oh yes yes yes
yes, I have come a long long way
and I have a long long way to go
I do not know how much time my long long
will be
I cannot see
the future
but my future, surely sees me and if
I have already traveled 40 years
Whatever years, or months or weeks or days or hours or minutes I have to travel yet
some I won’t remember
and some I won’t forget
but all of it will be
my journey.

On Being Bold – draft Spoken Word Piece

There is a conversation going on inside you
a discussion of where to go and what to do
the simplicities of youth
in a flurry, you are left with choices
and no right answers
no simplistic solutions canned and coined
in pre-packaged kit of do right
be right…
I say be bold
The heroes of our days gone by
are really just you and I
we, standing here, with the will
and courage to stand
against a tide of Consumerism
fogging up the conversation with
ideas like
“wear these shoes and be a star”
“eat this, drink this, smoke this, drive this, do this,
GIVE us your money and we will make you this and drip with this
and be what we think you should be cuz its what every one
wants to be…” Bullshit.
YOU are the master of your soul
the captain of the ship sailing towards the horizon of a dream
created out of the story hours and long showers
of 365 days repeating to where you stand now
15, 24, 36, 40, 65… 90
It matters NOT how many have passed the only day mattering is the one you are holding
now so
Be Bold.
Take the image of capes and bright colored lights to a new level
and be the cape and bright colored lights of your own life.
Reach out and touch the mechanisims of your being with the truth of
“I CAN DO THIS” Dedication
and breathe in the hard work of a tenacious soul
blistered hands and the truth you sought to know and
Be Bold.
I cannot walk your life for you
She cannot walk your life for you
He cannot walk your life for you
these are your shoes, canvasing a road of your dreams
Navigating a world filled with your stars, the constellations of a million creations
coalesing into the will to survive and make your world amazing
Make the world a bit more
Do not need out of greed or
lust for the snap shot moments of paparazzi no privacy
lighting up a bank account where everyone’s hands are in it
just be you and do the thing you were called to do
let the lights find their own way
let the discovery of fame and fortune be what it will be
for if you are bold in your direction
walk the path given
let no one tell you what the end looks
because they lie
they speak without having been there yet
because where you are going is yours and
you are the only one who can create it.

yeah… There is a conversation going on inside you
a discussion of where to go and what to do
the simplicities of youth
in a flurry, you are left with choices
and no right answers
no simplistic solutions canned and coined
in pre-packaged kit of do right
be right…
I say be bold
and Frost your way to ending you dream
no matter what lay in the path
no matter how many miles you must go

Love is, what is love?

[I’ve been trying to get this written, and still if falters from the flow. But perhaps in posting it I can simply let it go. Returning in the morning to see with new eyes – I do hope you enjoy nonetheless]

love is faulty
love is dirty gritty safe
love is wild and wise
it is full and empty
at the very same time
love is lonely
love is deep
love is sinking into
the arms of yourself
when no one else will keep
love is weary
it is intense
and after you feel it
you wish you could feel it again
it is a feather and a barter’s stone
a castaway without a row
a mountain top covered snow
when all the world is melting
it is the warmth of the sun
blossoms first of spring
summer’s only son
and then the chill of
winter when you didn’t mean
all those hurtful spoken ugly things
love is darkness and it is peace
it is duty and somewhere
the sheets of your imagination
lingering in the places
you forgot to touch
it is the peace of mind you never had
it is the road map you left
behind when you were six
teen and tween and older
It is the pace of ages
an old man’s hands grasping life
when all of life is spent
and you know
every one says they’ve seen it
they point it out on subways
driveways, coffee shops and corners
on the cover of every day
they say it is in the places we
least expect
in the places we forget to fix
But then everyone says they’ve forgotten
to hold on tight enough
or maybe not tight enough
and I have to wonder
if love is real at all
I mean is it real at all
perhaps it is smoke on a clear day
light when you can’t find your way
the night sky poked through
with holes of hope
or the one that got away
Perhaps it is the shadow behind you
keeping pace with every wrong
or maybe it is just the melody
you can’t quite remember
but you hum
maybe love is wet
water in your hands
and the only way you know
it was there was
the castle built in sand
Love is rain falling on a summer morn
it is raging like an Autumns storm
it is everything we cannot see
and still it seems to follow me
in the eyes of children
in the speech of every day
and then again
maybe love is simply in
the words we never say

On Writing

Breath is word is breath
to not write what I am
is to stop breathing
Dream is flow is dream
to not spit who I am
is to stop dreaming
Paper is skin is paper
No paper nor keys to write
and I will use the sky
Breath is word is breath
Dream is flow is dream
Paper is skin is paper

Writing is life is poetry

The first and the last

Today hangs heavy
bitterly cold through
sun’s determination
piercing cirrus altostratus stratocumulus
to touch the ground
wrapping tightly round
its center to
stave off or embrace
as a robin sings its world
into being
It is every day for every one
a day of spring and passing
by as any other
but for me
it is a day gasping for
struggling to overcome
the last image of the stars
falling from my sky
the toy blocks crumbling
the white hat mowing yard
the blue hat with fuzzy ball
yelling as my skis race
towards the finish line
the long drives to nowhere
leading no where more
sand dunes lightening
river waves dusting
steep 4-wheel drive
bronco-ing up tin-cups
clattering to fade
old stones of old graves
flint arrows and poker runs
friday night lottery tickets
all lingering mistily at the edge
past gates and duplexes
past victorian water pumps
and humming bird nests
it whispers past S’s and
up through Springs
and then it comes
faint and steady
over rocky mountains
and oil fields of wheat
past Chevrolet’s in crumbling
and naked rooms way to clean
past blood and bone
and monitoring machines
past too warm hands
that held soft balls, hammers
used skis waxing and horse vice
it circles round my head
like a worn out angel’s ring
almost to tired to speak
through plastic air flows
and groggy medicated notions
of awareness
up from lungs so large as to
fill a room with laughter
over lips filled with kisses
that now kiss no more
I hear you say
‘I love you too’ and
in that moment two days strike as
the only ones that matter

The day you said I love you first
and the day you said it last

I was there for both.

Poet’s wish

In my lifetime
I hope to see
the embracing of
sweet enemy
from the mighty foe
to the lowest fiend
it is my hope
for humanity
Though for all my talk
and wishful thinking
the matter in my head
will not matter
if it matters not instead
upon the lips of the living
but in the belly of the dead.
So first in stillness I reside
cast of demons and foolish pride
to see my self in passing verses
see a soul in foolish curses
see the Gods in
tears undried
that I may have caused
with negligent choices
selfish rants and
stifled voices
be this my atonement now
that this one wish
will come to pass
that earth and air
and fire and water
breath a lighter day upon
us all
for war to falter
and peace to prosper
let freedom be our banner
and love be our guide
let disagreements quell with
simpler solution
and anger soften
with forgiving eye
so yes
In my lifetime it is my wish
that poets type and ink be dried
upon the documents
of hope
and the merriment of


There will be times when we yell at the universe with questions it seems to not answer. Our fist shakes, voice trembles, eyes cloud with anger, fear, doubt, or anguish. These times are hard. These times do not easily pass with any amount of gratitude. For in our deepest, darkest places -joy whispers and understanding wavers like a feather on the breeze.


I am here to tell you, joy does exist and the universe gives answers. Just not in the way we always expect. Perhaps it is a butterfly dancing, a child’s smile, tree’s sway, cricket chirping, a woman singing, man laughing… perhaps, gratitude in its smallest and most powerful form is simply acknowledging the language of the world to comfort us in hours of greatest need.


Poetic Journey

Slip slither dribble and dry
on the skin of my soul.
Visual verbal veraciously vicious for the truth
of life offer drinks.
Offer to drink.
and I….
take a glass
lift to my head
from brow to toe
absorbing passion as if
I was a sponge taking a plunge
in salted waters.
Being like a stone tossed
upon the ocean floor
in pursuit of dreams
on farther shores.
Voice crying out in fear
but soul solidering
knowing the earth man and the heaven man
in me must find the end
of what I call me…
and when that time comes.
Words will.
Slip slither dribble and dry
on my skin as I toast
the artists who broke
the bottle of their blessings
upon the brow of this ship
sending me off in directions
I can only now dream of.


Being Revolutionary

Being revolutionary
standing up for the empowerment of others through the talents you possess and do so with such passion and intensity it can’t help but be noticed.

Being Revolutionary
changing the status-quo, which does not move, is unchanged, remains behind.

Being Revolutionary
a voice lifting up out of stifle to paint the sky with the color of a truth.




Sometimes the rain
lingers slowly on the frame of my
Sometimes the clouds
stall long on the horizon of my
and Sometimes lightening
seems the only light on my

Sometimes the night
lowers her life on the edge as my
only lover
sometimes the haunting breeze
smothers against the thrill of breath as my
only dream
and Sometimes the midnight scream
of the raven on the sill is my
only sound

she is my only