Doesn’t Have to


It doesn’t have to be this way

unless we say it does

Balancing on the juncture of

always and nevermore

Clinging to dreams

born in our hearts

tethered by fragile cords 

subject to the whims of what heartless judge



Draw me paint me mold me

Be the master of my universe

as you are the keeper of all my dreams

Write our script with words of your choosing

born of desire and longing

Subject them to a brighter light

freely given gladly received

treasured truths unveiled.


You gave me puzzles

now give me answers

When your heart speaks to you

what does it say?

When your eyes are closed

and the world is still

as you hover on the brink of sleep

where anything is possible in a dream.


It doesn’t have to end this way

Unless we say it does

we are the navigators of our way

and the authors of our script

and the guardians of our dreams.

Eschewing the ordinary

rejecting the common wisdom

for an uncommon destiny.

I’ll Have a Warm Sweater

I’ll Have a Warm Sweater 

you’ll know where to find me
I’ll be the one studying the shapes of the stones that line the dirt at the side of the road
I’ll be frowning
I’ll have a warm sweater to combat the chill coming from inside
shreds of sodden tissue spilling from the stretched out pockets
you know what I’ll be seeking
I’ll be desperately trying to regain meaning
lost without my shadow friend
going through the motions
leaden arms, sightless eyes, frozen heart
you won’t be able to see me
I have become invisible
trying to find myself
without you there is no me
suspended in time unloved, unfeeling, unmissed


Culture Clash

Culture Clash                                                           rev. November 3, 2013

Trembling, tear stained
choking on bitterness
afraid to sleep
demons lying in wait
taunting her for a fool
chiding her for every well earned tear
laughing at her delusions.
no kick ass bounce back dime a dozen old news with it graduate of the love ‘em and leave ‘em school of romance,
culture shock overtaking a late bloomer, upright and ignorant, acquiring new vocabulary,  emotions overwhelming inbred propriety, rational civility, well honed modesty
Misplaced passions escaping the iron bars of habitual morality;
stored and forgotten,  left to ripen,  savoring freedom, generating their own brand of courage and strength
abandoning common wisdom for the uncommon illogical magnetic pull
of forbidden love in faraway places,
desire fueled by desire, emotion trumping reality,  surreal,  
the stuff of mid day soaps, bosom baring paperback novels
and Shakespearean tragedy.


Zombieland isn’t half as bad as reputation alludes

The place I have in mind is a mindless boring pit

but looking better by the day

half way there by lunch tomorrow

No more crying jags that last 2 hours

No more disappointments, no more slammed doors

No more ambushed dreams


Just a numbing inertia- driven tub of dulled

nerve endings shrouded by molasses thick apathy.

Sight dimmed by dusty cobwebs.

Ears tuned to the ordinary.

Thoughts never straying to dangerous places.

Hopes abandoned.

Sweet thoughts erased.


Last flicker dimmed deprived of air

choking on truth afflicted with blindness

what is real, what is imagined

matters not when all is gone forever

many painful losses should have paved the way

for this most hurtful time of all

Abandoned, lost, no more trust to give.


Cruel irony played a trick

when blindsided by a passion

never dreamed of feeling

Whimsical fates intervened

upending my ordered world

adding unanswered longings to a

newly wakened sensibility


So my friend you see that

Zombieland is meant for one like me

a perfect fit for an imperfect heart

that lost direction while seeking nothing at all.

that lost her mind to the riddles never solved

and handed her soul to a stranger.

now waiting for oblivion.


A redo from 2012 

The Saboteur

DL at nightThe Saboteur

Weeks, months, years passed
First encounter imminent
Impulsive and thoughtless
I undermined it all

Acting on a whim,
no thought to repercussions
driven by a wish to surprise
and a spirit of adventure.

These stated motives
suffer under closer scrutiny.
Did fear direct my actions?
Or an unstated need prevail?

What did I fear?
That the reality of your touch
would fall short of my fantasy?
Or that I would disappoint you?

Predictable fears yet
deep inside I knew
that was not how it would play out
and that scared me to death.

I didn’t know it at the time,
It took some contemplation
soul searching, uncovering truths:
I feared I would never let you go.

That I would fall completely in love
with the reality of you in my arms
and never want to leave your side
and our worlds would turn upside down.

And reality and fantasy would merge
this new world unrecognizable
To either you or me
And ‘though we loved, we would lose our selves.

So we retreat to fantasy
And I still want you
And long for your touch
And am yours for always.