Exemplify

Do you believe in the power
of personal expression,
in the life changing force
of uncensored confession?

Can one voice validate
realities that resonate
deep inside each private pate
without conveying harbored hate?

The jury hangs, suspended
by the thinnest thread of hair,
confluence is contended
but communion starts with care.

Scrapper

The dawn is like a fading bruise,
an omen that I’ll probably lose
another round, despite a left
I’m not afraid to use.

Determined, I dismiss my doubt
undaunted by the streams that gout
from all my wounds, as I heft
my gloves to brave another bout.

Chain

I’m one with the grit
scraped off of the shoe
that costs more than I make in a week,
while swallowing shit
as they trust I should do
for the rich feel deprived sans the meek.

I contemplate change
for my pocket has none
yet this mountain has reached a new peak—
they say there’s a range
beyond all this fun
where the lowly may find what they seek.

Pumped

I pedal through
a nascent patch
where buds are new
and chipmunks snatch
what grub they can
as I ride by
immune to man
they barely shy
away from me.
Despite this jaunt
I am not free
my duties haunt
me every day
I have no time
to think or play
or jot a rhyme—
but this is not
the proper place
to mull my lot
I’d rather race
along this path
until I shed
this pointless wrath
and smile instead.

Hard

Inspired when the sisters sigh to sneakily implore us
sometimes the proper word resides within a new thesaurus
but estimates won’t satisfy an unresponsive chorus
and though it seems a bit absurd, this boulder isn’t porous.

Wish It Was Over?

The annual date of my messy arrival
a quaint commemoration of continued survival
I wonder what dreams merit revival.

Each revolution I turn less inspired,
deeper in doubt my soul becomes mired,
will life seem worth living once time has expired?

Extinguishing wicks with receding relish
trying to think of a doable wish—
oh well, I hope the cake’s delish.

Draining

Half empty, half dead
the bottle’s been bled
relieved of it’s spirit
like one who instead
succumbs to the dread
and lies without purpose
alone in her bed
her apron strings shed
half empty, half dead.

Tightrope

A pause to reflect
may cause a direct
connection between
what we blindly expect
and the foolish mistakes
we too often elect
to make—

but don’t let regret
confuse or upset
the balance to lean
far enough to offset
the more burdensome breaks
we must never forget
to shake.

Funk

Some food I couldn’t finish
in a box inside the fridge
(because I was considering
a way to torch this bridge)
has sat there much too long
and is now almost spoiled
just like the mess in which
I have become so embroiled.

Smack

It’s not about talent, commitment or guts
it’s all about kissing appropriate butts.
Aspiring artist? Best pucker those lips
and anchor yourself to the soft fleshy grips.