One for sorrow – 2 October 2016

October 19, 2016 at 5:29 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , )

He’ll always be my one for sorrow

My magpie, corvid, skulking black crow

In my mind I try to run

To hide, to move, to scream, to overcome

Instead I find this block immobile

It holds me back; a constant trial

One day my demon will be put to bed

But for now this magpie lives in my head.

Just getting words on paper. Not a good poem, but a needed one.

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So Call Me Stupid But… – 15 November 2015

November 14, 2015 at 9:11 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , )

I’d rather be depressed than indifferent.

I’d rather be angry than jaded.

I’d rather see humanity for what it is and hope to change it

Than give up before I’ve tried.

I’d rather die knowing I’ve helped people

Than live a thousand lives at others’ expense.

Call me naïve,

Call me young,

Call me what you will.

But I’d rather leave the world a better place

Than how I found it.

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Out of Reach – 13 July 2015

July 13, 2015 at 2:50 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , )

Stars melt into the sea –

I stare, paralyzed.

With fear? Or wonder?

My hand reaches back

And grasps a dying branch.

The long-dead tree,

still putting on a façade of life,

At first feels stable.


But the branch breaks in my hand.


No more going back.

But the sky aflame with molten stars

Keeps me from moving forward –

Down to where fire and water meet.

Oh, how I long to brush the colors

with even just my fingertips.

Instead I sit on the gray, crumbling rocks.

Dead, brown tree at my back.

Infinity just out of reach.

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The Way Things Used to Be

March 9, 2015 at 1:20 am (Poetry) (, , , , )

I used to play this game –

I was always the youngest sibling

Out of 7, 10, or 25,

And yet I was the strongest.

The one who took the most punishment,

But came out on top.

I used to do this thing –

I collected pennies.

I counted them obsessively,

Making little stacks of five,

Circling them around me.

There were over 10,000 in the end.

I used to say this prayer –

I prayed for family, friends, and enemies.

For the poor, hungry, and sick.

I prayed for guidance and health and wisdom

I said it every night for six years.

And it never changed.

I used to think this way –

If I thought the right things,

If I did everything the same

And believed that things would turn out

I would get everything I wanted.

It used to work.

Not so much these days.

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The Key

December 2, 2014 at 1:32 am (Poetry) (, , , , , )

Constantly trapped

between the multitude and the desire,

the hope to be the spark,

the fire –

The great catalyst of an age.

But still one with the flow,

an ink drop on a page

blacked out by scribblings,


drawings –

Everything that was,


may yet be.

Paralyzed by apprehenison –

An obsidonal tension

that my everything is nothing

and my something’s just that.

My every contribution

to the world of self-expression

may only be a splotch,

a blot,

a drop –

but at least my something is just that.



My spark in the fire.

My scribble on the page.

The key to my cage.

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April 18, 2014 at 6:57 pm (Poetry) (, , , , )

I haven’t written poetry in a year or so, but I figured now was as good a time as any to pick it back up. Starting small and rather cliche, but it’s something! 


A town that runs along a river
Jogging, driving, strolling, cycling
People outrun the languid flow
A race with one competitor
Doomed to lose.

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March 28, 2013 at 5:05 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Wow, it has been a really long time since I posted anything here. I’ve been doing a lot of writing and just not sharing it recently. It’s time to change that though! Here is a poem inspired by the Scottish Clan my family is descended from and their motto “Aut Pax Aut Bellum.”

Either Peace or War.

That is my legacy

Centuries back- the code

by which my ancestors lived.

Unintentionally, it has been

My Creed.

My Curse.

A constant state

of living on an edge.

One easily turned to the other.

One desired more

But rarely achieved.

Either Peace or War.

It beats drums in my head-

ancient and irresistible.

Bidding me ever onward

to make my reality

more fitting to my blood

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Coming Storms

September 27, 2011 at 1:14 pm (Poetry)

Sometimes I get into apocalyptic moods….

The ravens caw and swoop and dive

A dance of death upon the sky

Their song cries out

“Beware the storm”

But the people doubt

Til they see the swarm

The coming doom,

Our glorious Groom.

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The Journey to Babylon

August 14, 2011 at 7:11 pm (Poetry) (, , , )

We searched the world for Babylon-

walking ever East.

Chasing legend,

or maybe legacy,

lost among the sand.

The cries of old still called us on

til we happened upon the ruins.

And amid the joy,

the cheers and shouts,

was mingled disappointment-

for now the chase was done.

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The Simple Things – For Bupa

May 7, 2011 at 11:37 pm (Poetry) (, , , )

You always loved the simple things

Westerns, coffee, corny puns,

You whistled on your cane,

And you played every crane game you saw.

I have piles of cheap stuffed animals

But they’re worth so much more from you.

You fed me cake with your head in gear;

Most of it ended up on my face.

There was a submarine in the backyard

Every April Fool’s Day.

You were never much of one for words

But you sure could swear and you made me laugh.

The simple things were the best

An easy chair, dessert, and game shows-

And though the last years were hard

I’ll never forget the carefree times,

The cheesy crane game toys,

The cathartic nature of swearing like a sailor,

How to make a real dessert plate,

And all the good times we shared.

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