Take your stick, my life

Tear my limb- I keep turning

Give you something sweet.


“The Locket”

RIP KP 1998-2009 I still miss ya buddy…  ❤

“The Locket”


Clench my fists, to protect the memory like a locket

That carries your heart vicariously through my struggles.

Don’t you know they belong to us both?

For when I am caught in the undertow, your kindness

Is what brings me safely to the surface

And I see your smiling face, never disappointed.


Little brother your eyes are gleaming, reflecting

The sand beneath your toes

And we tread the water and jump into the ocean

indifferent to where it goes.


Time is short and fleeting, but a ripple in the pond

That gently carries consciousness like lily pads.

Don’t you know that we’re all lost?

And when I saw you for the last time on that table

With serenity in your eyes, you kissed my cheek

As unafraid you found your way and said you’d wait for me.


Little brother, sleep with your eyes open

Welcoming the Earth as your new home-

The freest permanent arrangement

Where your child’s soul may roam.



Now I fight my way, memories all I have to fend off

Reason and judgment which haunt me so

Don’t you know the struggle? No?

Perhaps it’s too much to ask that you come back,

In fact it’s downright insane, nevermind.

I’ll just forgive you for leaving me behind.


Little brother, oh dear prince

I’ll spread your ashes off the coast

And of all the things you taught me

I’ll remember love the most

And when the waves take me away

I’ll know the path I never chose

Because we’ll float the same hand in hand

Indifferent to where it goes.

“Impudent Strumpet”

“Impudent Strumpet”


My hands are earth-stained with layers of dirt like coal

Your skin has never known nature in all its glory

Your lips though lush cannot tell a story

For you’ve the brain but lack the soul.

My eyes have seen pain, my heart paid toll

Your whole life has known no allegory

To teach you that I am no quarry

To be ensnared within an empty hole.


You say, “Hug me” without love

You plead, “Baby light my fire”

You sing, “Drug me” without knowing a sober life

But I have seen what you have not above

And I will not let myself expire

I have mother and Father and I am proud to know strife.


“The Ode on the Mirror”

Sidebar, I know a lot of people who have been affected by depression stemming from a poor-self image and also bullying. After reading “The Picture of Dorian Grey” some time ago, I wrote this poem about a few people close to me who were really struggling with that (using the portrait’s mirror-effect as a theme). So, yes, that is an allusion to it. This poem goes out to all of those people I love and whom I hate to see being affected negatively by these things (or anyone who has ever been affected by them).

“The Ode on the Mirror”


Pretty girl, oh pretty girl

Garnished so in strife

Sees herself as poorly made

And loses her love for life.


What is in that mirror

That causes her to fret thus,

And how does one perception

Arouse in her such a fuss?


When she stares into a picture

Of herself she refrains

And she bursts into tears as though

What she sees causes pain.


Pretty girl, dear pretty girl

When will you realize

That you possess true beauty

And dry those tearful eyes?




Who bangs the gavel

With a verdict that says, “Nay”

As if her image were on trial

And sends her esteem away?


Where is the justice

In this corrupted court run

By their meaningless pursuits

For affections to be won?


Pretty girl, poor pretty girl

Don’t you shoulder the blame

Their desires to be different

Only make them all the same.


From where did this evil spawn?

Was it adaptive or inane?

Is it human to demean others

To bolster our own names?


It is foolish to claim that

One may define the abstract

For knowledge is ever-changing

And we will never know the facts,

Pretty girl, my pretty girl

Turn from their silly ways

Just wear your gorgeous smile

While their morality decays.


No, don’t you give in

And listen to their lies

They have holes where their hearts should be

And sorrow in their eyes.


See their greedy hands

How they long for your tears

The monster that’s inside them

Is its own biggest fear.


Pretty girl, no pretty girl

Don’t let your soul turn black

Their descent is a long road

From which you’ll never turn back.


When you see that reflection

You’re looking at your soul

And if you are not happy with it

Their words will take their toll.


So drop your preconceptions

Yes, put those fists away

Before you lose your head

Hear what I have to say:


Pretty girl, oh pretty girl

Don’t wish that picture dead

Once the image is extinguished

It is you who dies instead.

“Alliteration Aside”

“Alliteration Aside”

First & foremost, follow imposing inquisitions into

My melodramatic mind wherein wills were

Force-fed from hollow hearts

So selfish stances ran rampant, rudely recognized, relinquishing

Any and all ties to truly endeavoring emotions

Mistakenly marking maintained mishaps: Long-lost love.

Angel altering adolescent apathy, shaking like shingles

Enduring earthquakes, tried to tell truth, too trembling to

Be believed. Dropping down, descending,

decrees. Ushering ultimatums.

I impart ill-informed wisdom (whispers), being but infected idolatries

Fraught from feigned feelings.

Can’t comprehend: Cavalier carcass, an austere apparition,

Specter so somber having had life losing last light and so sight

Forgot frivolous forevers felt not noticing nothing past present

Then thought the revelation — rendering relationships but

Broken bonds. Believing not in inspirations ends enfold

Became burdened, buried beneath massive means.

Don’t dare damn dissent, dear! Drown distrust.

Deviations display darling differences, dissonance

Makes marvelous masks of mundane. Remembering roots

grow greatest going avidly apart, will wisely widen

Tree’s trunks to strengthen some similar base because

Life’s losses love being brought back around again.



Red, Yellow, Black, and White are all the same

Monsters which gnash their teeth beneath the moon.

Clawing in darkness to give it a name

Growling, howling, existing out of tune.

Lost in the void, their voices call out shades.

By some coincidence they share the hate

Then signal their alarms to grab their spades,

Cursed to be unable to emancipate.

“Oh, please creature don’t you dig your own grave,”

The blind and blissful man had dared to speak

“Close your eyes and come out of your mind’s cave

Open your hearts to the love you truly seek.”

The blank canvas cries: “Seeing is but lies-

I am already colored in their eyes.”