Here are some of my poems from over the years.


Is this some kind of magic trick?
It seems real, but the fragments shift
I wonder if it’s fact or fiction,
or if I imagined it
I know I’m just beginning but I’m hoping I can master this,
conquer it, get my Ph.D., then teach a class in it
I feel just like a crack addict
I need to get this habit kicked
I try to get a grasp on it to find out what is happening
Afraid that it might crack and split in half if I now act on it
I’ll take your heart and fasten it to mine, I hope it has a clip
so I can try you on for size and make sure all your fabric fits

Imagine if the stars aligned, frozen in time
somehow synchronized like they were chosen in line
showing me the future where I’m hoping you’re mine
I’m love drunk and high like I’m on dope and some wine
you kiss me with your words on this fated flight
like we were destined to be here on this plane tonight
you whisper in my ear under faded lights
I float away as we evaporate to crazy heights
I wonder if we’ll be more than two strangers on a plane
is God sure I deserve you? have the angels gone insane?

You’re the lullaby in this sweet dream that I’m having
This feels like Disney magic,
intoxicated by your passion…
Anything can happen when you imagine.

Mechanical Heart

Once upon a time, I wore my heart on my sleeve
and found that loving a man
is worse than heart disease
Had to stitch it back in place after it was ripped,
stripped into pieces, splintered into bits
Now I house iron chambers beneath my ribs,
free from the weakness that emotion brings.
I have a tin man soul, always in control
no feelings to catch or mood swings to show
I absorb all shock, immune to disturbance
a shield of indifference covers my surface
I have Kevlar skin for a bulletproof vest
so no man’s mess can shoot through this chest.

A mechanical heart, no more tyrannical parts,
the remaining scar tissue is hardly an issue
My artificial organ keeps me free from pain
as I pump blood for oil through these weary veins.

Lubricating hinges with crimson tinges,
all feelings forbidden in this insular prison
Heartbeats replaced by the sound of gears
so I’ll never again have to drown in tears
With metal parts so well engineered,
love is no longer feared.
I feel so invincible lately as this great me
An EKG couldn’t even trace me
I may flatline but heartbreak escapes me
no man can faze me, too afraid to face me
No need to revive me, I’ve survived the unlikely
no love bug could bite me or even frighten me
with this mighty engine bolted in my chest,
love is at its worst and I’m at my best.

A mechanical heart, no more tyrannical parts,
the remaining scar tissue is hardly an issue
My artificial organ keeps me free from pain
as I pump blood for oil through these weary veins.

Astronomy Lessons

I am not your moon.
I can’t orbit your existence
or spin in a way that pleases you
constantly revolving around you
while you’re busy circling
some large golden (m)ass.
I’m not some silvery slave
fading in and out of phases
simply to satisfy your appetite.
I couldn’t possibly be some human satellite
when you aren’t willing
to make that kind of sacrifice.
And although you love how I rise your tide,
satisfy your urge and wet your surfaces,
this is not what my purpose is.

You are not my sun.
I’ve barely felt warmth from your hungry hands
whose fingers love to caress my crevices
but are quick to find refuge
in the pockets of your jeans
if I hold you a bit too closely.
This isn’t how affection is supposed to be.
You favor flavor over substance,
always choosing the appetite over the meal
and once you digest, the craving returns…
your heart loves only when your stomach yearns.
you should shine rays of light on my skin
and love my every reflection in the daytime
instead of finding me on cold nights
and creeping me into your confined shadows
where even silhouettes feel more welcoming.

This is not what Earth calls love
This isn’t pretty like northern lights
dancing across a candy colored horizon
or perfectly aligned like an eclipse…
love doesn’t feel like this.
seems to me like you belong on Jupiter,
with a big head full of hot air
and dozens of moons to follow you.
I might want too much,
but I know it’s out there
even if it’s beyond the scope of this galaxy
I know it’s looking for me, it has to be…
and when it falls from the skies,
I’ll be here when it arrives
So I can be done learning this
astronomy lesson.


As I lay in velvet petals from crimson roses
a picture of your smile
glows in the dark
behind my closed black eyelids
as i remember
how your concentrated love
has made me feel.

you’ve wooed me, pursued me
and now you have me here
remembering the redness
you’ve brought to my gold skin
and how the warmth of your touch
throws magenta to my cheeks

but still, over time,
you turn me purple.

good times, bad times,
we knew both sides of the spectrum
fading out of ruby hues
into electric blues.
you could color all my tears
with the pigment of the skies,
tsunamis pouring out of my eyes

you love me? you say…
and still, you turn me purple.

you touch me gently
you push me roughly
how can the two shades exist?
and then my colors shift.
my love mixed with your hate:
what a palette it creates
and now the whole world knows,
behind Versace shades,
that someone loves me enough
to paint my face with streaks of violet.

now as I lay here in the softness
of this petaled bed,
dripping salt water on an opened letter
that reminds me how much
my apologetic man loves me…

you still
turn me


This “relationship”,
this twisted situation shit,
is more and more becoming like a revolving door
As we walk in and out of each other’s lives,
it’s no surprise that neither of us knows who wants more
Stuck between these wings,
looking through this glass
Staring at each other as we travel through our past,
dancing in circles as we try to compass our future
but the present has us spinning too fast.
‘Round and ’round we go
so close yet so far
chasing each other in counter-clockwise motion
we spin infinitely, always a glass door apart
while one is coming, the other one is going
this cyclical imbalance will never end
until one of us walks in and breaks the trend
but no one wants to be left behind,
and no one wants to wait in vain
so we continue on this melancholy-go-round,
both body and brain are left drained
and my heart can’t keep being bent out of shape
from skating in these painful figure eights
let’s get this straight
and stop going
in circles.