No More Midnight Blues!

Noises associated with the night:
chirping crickets, rustling wind,
traffic off on 71, the hustle bustle of ghosts,
cooing lovers and creaking insomnia addicts,
cut the fucking racket!

It's a wonder I only know writing
In the dim glow of my laptop computer;
I can't sleep a wink in the night time.
As the color under my eyes darkens deeper
Than the gray pupils themselves,
I wonder where I put my pen
and journal.

Coming Soon~New Poetry Pamphlets!

No More Midnight Blues

-a reflection of being "on the road" for the college experience with a little bit of Kerouac's blues influence.

Happy Times at Otterbein

Every Flower

Every flower I ever hold,
She seems to wilt;
Silhouettes in the dark laugh at dying
Roses sunflowers daisies.

But so far these tulips are alive and well;
one must tend his garden
Voltaire teaches us;
Then let me tend to mine.

This tulip will not wilt under my care,
She gets my finest water and brightest
Sunshine.

16 Tidbits For Curious Kittens-a new sonnet form

You asked me what I loved about today;
Seemed so strange at my dim lit desk,
I couldn't look back twelve hours any way,
because my room was a messy nest.
Curious kittens found at home,
Wrapped up in worn out jeans and band shirts,
Curling around my legs; they keep me alone,
As I occupy my mind with music and skirts.
Fantastic imagery, staying up way too late,
Looking for someone or something to blame,
But life after midnight feels so grate,
And damn its cool when you say my name.
But the question? What I loved, what could it be?
There are so many things I love that I could say:
(The way your hair falls, your eyes, smile) you and me,
Yes, we spoke like curious cats, that is what I loved about today.

That Detroit Sound

Is it heavy feed-back from a rusty guitar pick-up?
Or some squeaky factory line,
Way out towards Flint?
Dusting off old records,
Letting the needle murder the nighttime
silence,
Heavy and tinny, that Detroit sound
Still cuts me up and gets me moving,
Even during a freezing Ohio night.

I can only imagine how cold it is up north,
and if that Detroit sound feels as good
as it does down here.

Naked; Songs About Joy

Stop being so quiet, I know you can scream
I can see it behind those small features,
that quirky smile, those soft delicate eyes,
Swap out those fresh clean clothes
For some dirty old rags:
Yellow scarves yellow peacoat and
Yellow pumps navigating through the snow.

Let my hands explore your cheeks,
Warming your cold face,
Tussle your hair,
Just let me hold something,
One of your small hands perhaps,
As we lead each other on

Into a world of silliness and
Swing dancing in the breeze.

Sunflowers explode out of the ground where we will play.