Tag Archives: poetry

So long self-less

blood drip edit

selfless photo


I’ve always believed the Buddha,
but karma can’t exist.
In this life, when giving more,
the least you seem get.

Unyielding, one tries to stay true,
buried by disappointment,
silently seeping.
Accomplishment fleeting,
all outside forces feeding.
The weeping in one’s soul,
as if auctioned, stolen and sold.
Reluctant to be bold with this loss of self control.

Shading cloaks high hopes,
from cotton candy dreams.
So sweet, yet unreal, mistaken by a craven appeal.
chasing an illusion as these aspirations take heels.

To bow the knee, surrendering to the stave.
Crumbled, captured, there had once been a chance,
reliving in the ruin, now taking that second glance.
The light, succumbed to the night, as the day digs a grave…

One more puff to stay positive.
One more pass and it’s negative.
No more false breathe nor failed cognition.
Taking a step back from friction to study fact and fiction.


You’re Welcomed?


It had been wondrous recruiting for the team.

I, now a past tense, molten for what is us.

Another at your backside in joint pursuit of dreams.

Rely upon one another, untempered stone will reduce to dust.

We band for the journey , we bond for our life.

Unbroken when stretched with elastic reeling mid.

Flexibility worth a hassle,  resolving when in strife.

Some days living a trampoline leaving curses with cupid.

Two income supplies benefit to one organization.

Sharing in profits which hard work redeemed.

Prospecting a home not an economical imitation.

No secrets nor deceit, neither of us fiends.

I believe these values to be true just as vows received.

Yet disappointment steals my gaze often as of late.

Precious rose colored ring, now taken off, just as things perceived

Some actions make one re-examine the “righteous rule of fate”.

Feeding The Formless

Leak into the paper, the constant whispers stop, lost if left for later.


To bleed between lines, even without the literal sense, the paper they will bind.


Trail the past and dot the future, not yet lucid, dismembered by abusers.


Mentality like the putty, you put it in your hand, and pressed as if paltry.