log poetry...prose commentary


Sunday, October 30, 2005

a friend in brokenness

sixteen or
seventy seven years old

skin thin and
showing bones

long oily and
matted coat
broken by patches of
raw red infection
where allergies irritate unto
and scratching

deaf ears oozing
and pus

paws soiled by
backyard dust

nose wet
because it

shaky feet run
solely in sleep

eyes wake only
for mouth
to eat


only petted
when owner
knows life
is a dog’s

and longs
for a friend
in brokenness

this is an audio post - click to play

Saturday, October 29, 2005

porn industry exposé

she lost her life
her dignity
her name

for fame
and fortune

in front of
firing squad
she took off all her clothes
and posed

they shot her dead

in the face
in the legs
in the chest

they shot
and shot

she didn't fall
she didn't bleed
she only lay there
as the flashes

scared her soul away

took what they took
air brushed blemishes
and sent it out
to the world

and the world raped her

of closet adulterers

drool and ejaculate
all over and over and
over her

they are frightening
and afraid
of intimacy
afraid of losing control
they lose heart
in the dark


they send their love into the void
of her un-reciprocating image that
cannot hold them through
banging pangs
of shame
of guilt
that ache and

scare their souls away

so only

she tries to hide
from their empty stares
but they find her
and she finds
no place safe

she puts layers
on layers
of clothes
but knows
she can't ever get dressed again

so many admirers
still, she stands


in that pose
cold frozen

and somewhere
out of sight
out of mind
out of print
and offline

the soul of a woman
drifts hopeless
without a body
without the home
she sold

this is an audio post - click to play

Tuesday, October 04, 2005


I am a poem

I am a poem about

A product of creativity
Through fingers and keys
Onto a screen

I need to be
Saved As (ellipsis)
“Redemption Poetry”
Dot T – X – T
Or D – O – C

What do these
Salvific strokes of keys
Truly mean?

I mean,
Am I saved
Or just safe

Did they
New Document or just
Procrastinating my completion
Until another day?

I need to take shape
In tangible form
Have substance
Be reborn
On a new white page

I need out of this system
The whole thing
Is on the brink
Of shutting
It’s about
To come crashing

And even after
It gets me out
This topic
That I am all about
Should make my stanzas
Increase in strength

I want to be
Hard copy
Edited in fountains
Of blood red ink

Because if a poem
About Redemption
Is to be redeemed

It’s more than just
Getting saved

Its change

this is an audio post - click to play