Tommy’s breeze

High backed yellow benches
Backdrop-turquoise mellow sea
Shirtless children a giggle commences
Tossing a coconut on the beach

Driftwood bongos
Burning blunts and banana leaves
Empty case of kalik hopes
Two chickens bob and weave
A homeless man bumming smokes
Bahama mama she’s such

a conch tease

Watch your step in tropical town
Apply the coco lotion
Tiki tiki el senor clown
Bacardi junkanoo commotion

Rum cakes in a pastel house
A game of cricket with sandy shoes
Drive on the left pink flamingo grouse
Or take the ferry where there’s news

A spectacle

I like to create
So I know what it takes
And I can be inspired by you
I’ve no other reason
To believe in
What the people say and do

What happened to my eyes?
They used to be so blue

The sun won’t shine
On my rhyme tonight
I’m busy counting backward lines
Unclenching fists and temples tight

What happened to my eyes?
They used to be so full of sight

Hey, my love. You whispered in my dream
Told me how it’s me who’s strong I

close my ears to block my screams
But I can listen to your song

What happened to my eyes?
The shades of what went wrong

Doesn’t matter what proof

Yea I watched the big kids play
Just never wanted to be part of the crowd
They teased as I walked away

But I wanted you.                     Alone.
To prove I’m not afraid

I remember the first kiss
Dry lips
Salty fat tongue wanting this
The frost on fingertips

The feeling of a decision
A chance to change my life
With a sip

No wait Stop! Set you down walk away
Hesitate. Contemplate.
So nervous now let’s just debate

Is it too late?

Ok sit back down, reach back out
Sense the smells and feel relief
That energy. That Doubt.
Bring it on now. Past my lips and teeth

They tell you we’ll live or die
Truth is you get to decide
On the left I choose to imbibe
Feeling bad is just so right

I swallow you down. A relief, a sigh
Alcohol you old clown
Tuck me in whilst I drown

I’ll drink alone amongst this town

When a tweet was a tweet

Many are amazed Using words like “pontificating”
In their arrogant array of Dictionary masturbating

To describe their wings
Feathers spread proud
Children’s imagined playthings
There! eyes in blue jays clouds

A bird’s life is amazingly
a simple life lead by simple needs
Sure I love them because they can fly                                        with ease
When scared.                        Into the breeze
To tops of trees.
To shit more seeds
But more It’s that every time I see their beaks
I ponder all that is to be
I become deathly sad, empty.                                 weak

Like a bird. Our purpose.                        is to eat.



If we think too much                                       poetry.


In it I sensed a black
Crushing vacuum of warm dogs breath
Today being another day
Of many days that come and go
Eventually accomplishing to a life

Until snuffed. Look back now.
That’s all it was

In it I saw war, one thing promised to be
Always waiting for man to find him

In it I felt in the dark
Your varicose veins popping off
Like victorious fireworks of anticipation
Resulting only in more wanting
for my fingerprints

In it the translucent fins of fighting fish
Caught in a hook
Signalling everything that is meant to be known
into the oxygen of waters pulse

In it sandpaper eyelids fight back the light
Copper tasting lips palpitating
Heart. Wake up. This is gonna be
Snowstorms in a butterflies wings

Offensive Line

Cold February thrill
Allegheny dream
Traversing the sure kill
Under the El in Philthy stream

A city on fire
Burning hunk of brotherly love
Squeeze my Temples
The owls, the eagles. the doves?

An unbelievable play
The Philly special all day
From Wentz we came….
…..In Foles we trust

A victory beer. First mint won’t rust
Like Franklin I’m from Boston
Indentured. Imprisoned.
Held back, scorned and lost and

Came for Philadelphia freedom

From Chester to Trevose
Northeast to society hill
It’s good to be sustantivos.
In a city I don’t need to kill

The Itch

Losers racing home twilight highway
Hemis switching lanes dully occupied
Profits of all the knowing genocide
Blue collar heroes
The ones for which John Lennon died

A pizza parlor, 1970’s
And yellow green. Benches of
Ghosts apologies

A balding shipping clerk talks to the bar
Rocking in his head to Highway Star
For the 100 thousandth time he sings

“No one’s gonna steal my car”
He thinks

I want to kiss his highschool football ring
It’s a Monday thing

I just look at it all and sharpen my blade
It’s. So almost
Whispers in my drink