She never had a night light or cuddled a doll.
Nobody asked her to dance at the senior prom.
Nobody ever placed the gem of life in her hand.
Mr. Glitter always found her but was never a humble man.
Black angel chasing peace of mind down a glass pipe.
Sometimes death offers more peace than does life~
Launched
pea-
nuts
take a
long time to
hardly even fake
making a weird bounc-
ing effort
once they
hit
the
glow-
ing showroom
floor.
I saw a little cup
at the museum today.
It wasn’t like the others,
even though it was clear
that it belonged.
For this little cup
was different.
It had a golden crack.
It was once broken,
but a craftsman
took the time
to patch it up.
It was whole again,
but yet the scar, remained—
much like a life well lived.
The two really are the same.
ONE HIT OF ME AND YOUR FOREVER CHASING THAT
SOLD YOUR SOUL FOR A FEELING, NOW YOU WANNA BUY IT BACK
HERE'S A LONG STORY SHORT BOUT A DRUG NAMED CRACK
SEE THAT SOUL YOU SOLD WASN'T YOURS TO SELL
GOOD THING FOR YOU GOD ALWAYS PREVAILS
BUT YOU WONT GET OFF THAT EASY, YOU MUST STILL PAY A PRICE.
IT DON'T COST MONEY BUT YOU HAVE TO GIVE YOUR LIFE
ITS DOUBLE WHAT YOU SOLD
AND YOU MUST REAP WHAT YOU SOWED
PAY YOUR DEBT TO SOCIETY AND SETTLE ALL YOUR DRAMA
AIN'T NO DODGING THIS SOME CALL HER KARMA.
NOW HIT YOUR KNEES, TIME TO REPENT
PRAYERS GO UP BLESSINGS GET SENT.
REPLACE THE THOUGHT WITH LOVE, THAT'S MENTAL EQUIVALENT
FINALLY YOUR FREE AND AIN'T NO COMING BACK
REMEMBER GOD IS THE STRONGEST AND AFTER HIM IS CRACK
Your chest goes tight.
The air feels small.
It is just easier to breathe
when you are behind a wall.
You learned this so young,
to guard what is sore.
Because if they don't get close,
they can't walk out the door.
But it gets so heavy,
holding the line.
You watch them all laugh,
and pretend you are fine.
I see how hard you try.
I know that you care.
It is okay to be scared
of the space that we share.
We don't have to fix it.
You don't have to change.
I will just sit on the floor
where it doesn't feel strange.
Why do people want to attack
The phenomenon known as the plumbers crack
As they work without a care
It’s just not right that you should stare.
It’s not like they’re working in the nude
So stop being such a bloody prude
It’s quite fair that they should bend
But don’t go looking up an old friend.
Builders bum can make one smile
Some might say it can even beguile
But there’s one thing I cannot back
And that is attacking the plumbers crack.
It’s just surviving, that’s the way it goes
To live means I must endure over fright
I’m running fast in case I sense the noise
If someone enters kitchen in the night
But soon he’s off, there are some crispy crumbs
Left on the table, so I’m back again
To eat my fill, chasing away the cheeky gnats
I’ll take a sip of wine…cheers, my man!
Regarding food, I trust the master’s taste
When I’m full I think of transience of being
In every crack I know there is a place
A little space for me that has some meaning
My rustling’s barely audible at night
I rummage through your rubbish bin, oh dear..
Pity an old cockroach, don’t switch the light
In this dark room, I eat my crumbs and fear..
.
it did not wait
no
it did not come
'fore
right on time
like thuh
dawn
You are reading this in future;
I write this from the past.
Don't look back here with sadness, through your rosey tinted glass.
Im In the field right now! Trust me, I can see the grass!
The wind is cold! Theres wolves about, and vipers slither past!
Its still right now I write this from, though I am in the past.
Im here right now, you're here right now; so why you feeling sad?
You wont remember these things, in the future, looking back.
So just memorise this poem, it's called the 'Rosy Tinted Crack'.
In vibrancy my life was once enveloped;
from shadows, your sickened love developed.
With persistence, my Jericho wall fell—
my mind exploded at your quiet hell.
Love’s insanity became my deep shame;
hide-and-seek fondness—now your mastered game.
And when you finally shattered my weak heart,
I joined the list of victims on your love's lost chart.
Your sky that gave me hope soon disappeared;
the moon and stars I dreamt of, you up-speared.
You even pulled the ground out from my feet—
now my poor soul is kicked along the street.
I’m cracked and frayed in garments sewn by crack;
my vanishing sanity refuses to come back.
My mind now wanders through an endless space,
playing checkers in the devil’s dirty place.
My treasures all were powdered up and smoked;
I plundered more to keep my spirit cloaked.
You live in mansions now and ride big cars,
dressed in sweet elegance devoid of scars.
My future you killed; yours you built with flair.
You gave me a home in pure, bleak despair.
One day you’ll read this final elegy—
trust, I’ll be buried by my tragedy.
I dragged this cig, my brain went far gaga,
The same cigarette brand that brought me joy;
A puff, and I slipped into a pooh-Bah,
One short drag became enough to destroy.
My legs wobbled, the world around me spun,
I heaved heavily, yet relief slept still;
The fun I sought had never yet begun,
In its stead, I commenced a mental drill.
As I puffed a new cig to chase a fad,
Deeper curiosity did arouse.
How can a mere cigar torture so bad,
A dream taught me the thought in intense drowse.
Later I learned the cig was laced with crack~
The closest I came being a junkie;
That pal later picked madness in bump's track,
Why I never became a crack flunkey.
The crack in your heart is as wide,
As the crack that's parting your hide.
Just part your cheeks in the mirror,
Your crack will reek so much clearer!
Written: August 25, 2025
*********
There was a crack in the ceiling.
Above the lamp, above the silence, a crack—
thin as a vein,
but pulsing with something devious.
At night, I stared upward,
its jagged line, such a question
I couldn’t answer.
The plaster flaked as aged skin,
and dust fell in slow confession.
When she climbed the ladder,
she traced it with a fingertip,
then with pencil, then with tape—
measuring the damage
as if it might reveal a diagnosis.
She patched it gently,
not to erase, but to soothe.
Later, she painted it
the same soft ivory as before.
Not to hide it—
but to let it rest.
And now, when I look up,
I perceive nothing.
Or rather,
I perceive everything it once held.
She was Lip-Smackin', Crack-a-Lackin',
Eye-Poppin', Jaw Droppin', Mack's-a-Snackin'!
"You don't walk like a Man!"
"You can talk to the Hand!"
Poodle-Noodle must Whack-da-Kraken?
One of the clowns in my circus
wants to be ringmaster and crack the whip
one of the sailors on board my boat
wants to be captain and steer the ship
but there's only room for one
under the big tophat my dear
so they're both out of luck
and the buck stops here
I have the last and final say
tho' not one to overwhelm
to maintain a steady course
there can only be one at the helm
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