Category Archives: poetry

New York September 17, 2017

what service

does the weapon provide

still sheathed

denied by the warrior

the prospect to waste?


a fulfillment of a dream

to dip the blade beneath the skin

a recoil

proceeded by full engagement


thrust in to the hilt!


to quench

the anguished






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the sixth ring

my eyes too weak to spread some bullshit words
across a screen
so I am left unaccounted for
on Facebook
or Instagram

strangers with foreign accents
on the landline
which somehow now only
connects me to people trying to sell me shit
I don’t even pick the phone up anymore
it always stops at the sixth ring

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Replace the Wolves

In the occupation of childhood
nightmares bear fruit
in a fear of unknown weapons
wrapped with skin
adorned with teeth

the civilization in which these weapons were wrought
a “grown up” world
beautifully textured
outrageously detailed
just shy of mythological
replace the wolves of fables

a child wanderer
not ready for battle
with the harsh elements
of the nature of beasts
is separated


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Filed under Outlaw poetry, poetry

my baby

my baby

in white satin

swaddled still cold


abandoned heart

sleeping vacant eyes


once we were full


my baby

a gift

like her mother


oh, Lord why did you take them away?


spring approaches

life returns

but not all is reborn


my Love,

oh my love

you have left me!


maybe I shouldn’t have thrown you down the well.


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When I Left Her

like that prick of a dog was in Argentina,
or was it Bolivia?

in a glorious mind screw memory
sits a piece of warm cherry pie
and a coffee as dark as she was.

a whole week by bus separates us.

one day I simply vanished.

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Outside the wall of civility
snake pit recesses
freeze us in terror
to be still, not to be seen
we are the prey

in the tangle of tress
we become naked
the world is not ours

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Filed under Outlaw poetry, poetry

hard worn blue coller blues

a family tradition
of poverty
and low-paying
hard physical work

God fearing

“Jesus Saves!”

the dirt won’t free itself
from either the cracks of the hands
or from the “worn hard” clothes

– written in West Virginia 2012

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