The minutes join and form hours

    The evening sours

    This swelling feeling seems fitting

    For dark seductions

    In a darkened room

    Some loveless tomb

    Adoring victim 

    Who’s haunting who? 

    I leave her in a guilty bed

    To stalk a lover new

    Rattlesnake rustling of leaves

    In the trees

    Under a full moon

    Silent streets where tension is strung

    Alleys alive with a song unsung

    Over the edge and into my eyes

    I’m at home here

    For every home 

    Has a shadow of fear

  • On the Phone

    I don’t like sleeping alone

    I don’t like answering the phone

    I don’t feel like drinking alone

    so I’m on the phone

    Red, pink, black and blue or grey

    I don’t care what you say


    might be over after today

    So throw some time my way

    You say smile/ I say make me

    but you can’t do it on the phone

    Idea implied vaguely

    then says I shouldn’t be alone

    because we can’t make love

    On the phone

  • Sounds Like Me

    I called; she hung up again

    Another drink and another dime

    I call a friend of hers this time

    She doesn’t know what I’ve done

    Well, I never worried much

    about tomorrow

    But today I can’t drink away

    my sorrow

    I didn’t mean to hurt no one

    But something’s come undone

    Tomorrow comes and I wake

    early in the day

    I take

    a walk

    wait for opening time

    Another drink and another dime

    I call a friend of mine this time

    He laughs and says

    that sounds like me

    He can’t set me free

    but he’ll come have a drink

    or two with me

    Author’s note: To add some perspective, this was written so long ago shots were 90 cents and pay phones (look it up if you have to) cost a dime to make a call

  • Philosophically Obscene

    Why can’t I find anyone alive

    who sees the way I do?

    Some see w/ the eye

    while others see through

    Misery is an angel w/ face that’s Blue

    Crippled wings used in painful flight

    & a home in Heaven’s nite

    Waken’d by the lion’s roar

    Soothed by the lamb’s loneliness

    Been on this wild shore


    It’s something more than holiness

    & no one to read what you write

    Born in Heaven’s nite

    did you come to save me?

    Can I touch you before I free my grave?

    I’ll try to be a servant

    but I cannot be a slave

    Doing what you want to

    comes w/ being free

    Doing what you have to

    is reality

    Questions & loneliness

    cannot be solved w/ drink

    Rebel of Holiness

    I’ve read your Word

    but still don’t know what to think

    Admittedly I’m lost, confused

    blind, hungry & meagerly abused

    At least in human light

    Some find delight

    Some are not amused

    At this Exile in Heaven’s nite

    And me?

    I’m torn between

    Those two extremes


    Philosophically Obscene

  • True Soul




    The garments of God

    The poet is just a puppet

    An extension of Soul into Flesh

    A spirit crushed by the senses five

    His torture is his blessing

    A prison of freedom

    Not quite living, yet more than alive

    Impossible dreams expressing

    The day they should arrive

    Surreal is real

    if that’s how you feel

    & if tomorrow never comes

    It’s just another trip through time


    In these minutes

    Shadows have their appeal

  • One and One

    Pictures of you

    visions coming into view

    Now a chilled whisper

    tickling up my spine

    Caressing your hair

    as fire and velvet entwine

    The memory reaches

    semi-sweetly into the past

    That smiling flame

    was exstinguished must too fast

    Tho I feel it reaches remotely

    into some forgotten caste

    A casual encounter

    you felt was not meant to last

    Still, when I think of you

    how can I be blue?

    Seasons come & seasons go

    & as we all should know

    One & one are not always two

  • Hey, it’s me, your often absent host, letting you know how this works for me… I’ve been writing for over 40 years, thru adolescence, active alcoholism and drug addiction, and into more than 20 years of recovery. I pick and choose from stacks of notebooks, editing and trying to capture fleeting glimpses of past, present , and/or gazing towards an always uncertain future. I hope it’s what I believe good art should be, non-linear, abstractly personal and hopefully relatable. You know, the old comedy/tragedy mask thing, because if you’re coming from a place of darkness OR light you’ve got to learn to laugh, or risk taking yourself too damn seriously. Watch if you will my continued childlike wants, needs, and dreams twist and turn, sometimes maturing, sometimes regressing, sometimes vacant or stagnant, idle hands being as some say, the devil’s workshop. Finally, like everyone else growing up in the 70’s I was gonna be a rock n’ roll star, so there will also be lyrics thrown in, as well as brand new finished “product”. Don’t know about you, but I think I’m ready… “HEY, HO, LET’S GO!”

  • A Moment in Time

    I sit alone

    With my demons

    & dead desires


    In what feels like vain

    For some sign

    That I am, indeed

    Where and when I’m supposed to be


    Feeling like I’m on 

    A sliding board to hell

    Just a feeling

    Seems unshakable 

    Some metaphoric

    Mosquito swarm

    That swallows me with dread

    This moment in time 

    Grinding thru my very bones

    Leeching what used to be my will to live

    Now some antagonizing 

    Razor blade numbness

    Making itself at home

    I know better

    But knowledge 

    Doesn’t always set you free


    Eyes like twin sunsets

        Beautiful, turning into night 

        Into stars that shine 

          Into mine

    Evening with a charming one

    Hiding within reach

    My fingers have sifted through the the sand

    Looking for the pearl

    I know is on this beach

    Seagulls have their freedom

    And the breeze laughs with them

    At me

    Perplexed at my imprisonment

    Sand is crumbled rock

    And my fingers bleed

    Something Heaven sent

    Some escape from penitence

    I guess that’s what I need

    Seagulls have their freedom

    And the breeze laughs with them

    At me 

    I stop to gaze along the shore

    Wind kicks up and nothing’s left

    Where it was before

    Those eyes, those eyes

    I thought I saw them shining 

    As another rock is pounded into sand

    What offbeat Deity was flung upon this earth?

    Some silent call commanding me

    Tortured into birth

    Come to life my Hyacinth

    Set my fingers free

    The voice keeps calling from some unseen realm

    The mystified sailor dreams he’s at the helm

    … while his fingers bleed

    A string from someone else’s past

    Now noosed around my neck

    Someone who was slaughtered

    Or taken in a wreck

    Dead men have their freedom

    And the breeze laughs with them

    At me

  • little girl ’81

    Little girl, what ya gonna be… when you grow up

    Little girl, will ya still love me… when we grow up

    Spent the tender years, wrapped in your arms, your loving arms

    All the years, fears and tears, in your arms, your brutal arms

    I’ve got you, you’ve got me, tell me what we’re gonna be

    Streets are filled with empty love, intensified insanity 

    Memories, miseries, another day

    Ecstacies, enimies, night and day

    Little girl, hometown blues, I’ll leave you before I die

    Little girl, I love you, tho you live a lie

    Little girl, Little lady, Angel. Angel, Angel… Liar!

    Angel of darkness, do you have a soul

    Angel of darkness do you have a soul

    Laughing, Loving, Living, your streets are calling me

    Crying, Raping, Dying, your blood is drownding me

    The words, they’re all screams

    The clouds, they’re all green

    Live to please your dying day

    Maybe you’d better learn to pray