Dry spells

Is it in the water or something I breath

Something in the air is amiss

The winds of change- just

Don’t blow in my world like they should

It boggle your own heart

That always understood, strange

And I oft find myself

Up on some bluff, overlooking the vast

Carrying an unseen burden pack

Quietly asking myself,

Man- what the hell?


I wear different- in my life

Like a second skin

And its never about foolish pride

I am, just who I am

Never think twice about helping a friend

But how far does that really go,

When you’re burning life in slow mo,

And being passed by every loss second?

Only to shake your head in confusion

Like drunken cobwebs coming lose

Some late following afternoon after

Whispering echoes, in your mind

Man- what the hell?


Questions without answer

Trip over the new dawn when it comes

Life seems to be carrying a haze

Changing everything that matters most

Everything- just seems out of sync

Night is morning when you can’t sleep

As the lonely cold feels, all to welcoming

And inner hope starts wearing, doubts

You just know it isn’t right

Sitting alone by the river

waiting for something new to float in

Mumbling to the ripples in the water

This isn’t meant to be my life

And you stumble onward, looking up

Asking with your arms opened wide

Come on, Lord…what the hell?


Poet of the Light © 2020



Oh ye woman of my dreams that visit me

Like a zephyr only my heart knows

And hides behind a veil of fogginess, hear me

I was taught all of mankind was born with a soul

But, another vision like you has come and spoke

I’ve learned- they were misleading many

They needed humanity not to know- absolute truth

And I accepted and swallowed their lies too

Like a child does it’s mothers milk

Eagerly seeking satisfaction I knew would come, fill me

Oh gluttony even then can still be a sin, unknown

To carry into all of eternities hollow halls alone

Twas most foolish of me, my weak humanism

No spirit resides inside like a hidden shadow

From a divine whisper at my conception called soul

Its vulgar, by design, dear woman, I tell you this

So much make so much sense- now that I know

My deep inner void and bouts of darkness

I could never drown even by spirited rivers

That have plague me like a quagmire since birth

That rage of thunders bolts that spears my heart

Storms of sorrow and insationable hunger

That ghostly thirst, ever present on thine lips

For that I do not have…nor can I ask- for it

I’ve learned now, the secret bounds, cursed some men

To do so, would taint it, taint me for all eternity

I’m alive for purpose not my own to pretend, to mimic

Like those who can fall in love like springs rain drops

To be tested, tempered by invisible fire that burns

A mission assigned, and set forth unknowingly

To be gifted- of that what I do not have

While possessing that which I do have, but cannot gift, as yet

Oh such truths can be bitter tasting I swear, dear woman

Oh Lord- why has thou bequeath me such a burden;

Only to laden me more so by learning- of its truth?

Woman I secretly utter now, I’m one: a treasure chest

Born with a gift of everlasting love inside, for one

But I have no key and cannot release it

Because I have no soul to call love to me

That holds the answer key, in her heart

Unblemished by truth, caring and moved within

A spirit enough of hers for two- humans

And open the chest: me-

By its only designed key…Love


Poet of the Light © 2020

I know


Oh I’ve been loved- once

Until I was crumbled up

Into sadness and trashed

Left to become swirling dust


Boy, I know what its like

To learn what love is about

By when its not around

As loneliness breaks your eyes



And I know what its like

To lose faith in your trust

When everyone else does

Because you trust love too much


I’ve known what its like

To love and still be denied

Get lost inside your mind

Become king to your own dark


I know just how painfully hard

A skipping heart can beat

When it you trying to breath

Drowning in a shallow sea


Oh I know what its like

To be kissed by someone

As tender as a summer breeze

Inside your phantom dreams


I know what waiting is like

Not to feel seen or seem alive

Wanting to be found, surprised

By understanding pair of eyes


Every heart needs and knows

Nothings better than being held

Inside warm and tender arms

That doesn’t want to let go

But trust and lets your roam

Knowing you’ll always…come home


Poet of the Light © 2020



Oh cynical world-

Where are you heading

What are all these lies

You seem to be telling

To everyone gone blind

But has a heart that still, feels


I find myself – at odds

Caught between Stoics

And the bleeding reserved

Both encapsulated in a dark

That truly breaks my heart

We have to turn, ourselves around


What about Love-

How will it ever grow

If we pull back and hide

For whenever hope- comes

Knocking on our door

But chose not to answer, at all


How’d we get so far

From where we once were

Mistrusting every strangers

By the clothes they wear

Because of someone else’s crime

Before we’ve heard, a single word


Befriend- is how it starts

It like a seed, our best chance

When finding our kinship kinds

Just as lost inside temporary time

Like us, in need of a little togetherness

Be a sparkle they find… inside dark silence


Poet of the Light © 2020

Inspired in part by a nameless follower~


Love- does seem but like a dream

Not by some cerebral fluid conception

From the depths of our subconscious

But birthed divinely- from our heart

Via an axiom paradigm, flowing invisibly


A tether that intertwines us mysteriously

As we thrive effervescently in its realm

Seemingly ethereal in nature, simultaneously

Fearlessly fragile, defying a most selfish world

Within every heartbeat the two share…as one


Poet of the Light © 2020


The empty chair, in sharp silence

I can deal with and compensate for


Glancing stares out a near window

Oft forgetting that, I shouldn’t expect

To see your smiling image out there


My amnesic mistake, calling your name

As I enter a room- that is now barren

Can have a sobering affect to a heart


The painting easel and its blank canvass

Lacking those perfectly placed colors

Of life, you re-imagined so masterfully

By painstaking hands, I can re-imagine


Those are the times I write the utmost

Precious words of my heart, paperlessly

Because they’re spoken without thought


But our bed is the coldest place of all

Not because it lacks your warm body

But because your resounding heartbeats

Is what made all the difference… for me


Poet of the Light © 2020


If only hindsight was more forwardly

Some repetitions, I’ve long tired of

I know it seem cynical by nature

But mainly when it comes to to love

When the relationships grows sour

And they- become bullish cyclopes

Inside my tender hearts china shop

Akin intimate time, pictures memorialized

Our shared memorabilia ends up, broken

And I alone, am left to clean up my pieces

Of my trust, life, dreams and of myself

Remodeling all the unnecessary damage

Changing me, my outlook, circumspection

Just like my last, premature- ever after

Strange how they break it, then blame us

You would’ve thought, people so close

Would be more understanding, in letting go

That the care would’ve easily extended

A kinder, more protective parting of ways

Instead of some prideful Pyrrhic victory

By a lover who’s unveiled as… a stranger

Poet of the Light © 2020

Outcast peers

Normalcy for me, is aberration for others

Fringes are where I feel most comfortable

Albeit a handful or vast crowd of people

I’m not antisocial nor modernly eccentric

I simply pick and chose my social sphere

There is some truth I can be a bit pedantic

There are things that are important to me

And maybe, as much or as few that aren’t

We all have certain quirkiness’s to tend

From my unique observational point of view

I’ve silently learn to see things like a puzzle

Or at least, its digested in that manner, for me

Everything has its place to balance harmony

And there are a plethora of life’s nuances

Overlooked or sadly, cynically dismissed

People are the crudest of pieces on the board

Like when it comes to love; playing masters

While constantly changing themselves to fit in

Or lead others from a hubris nearsightedness

Right into a disaster- that was fully avoidable

Sometimes it is most disheartening to watch

Other times, it can really be quite comical

I guess truth is, I’ve always been this way

Pondering which road I should take, longer

Including retreating from whence I first came

Thinking deeper by stepping back, knowing

I’ll always be chosen by the path…that leads

Poet of the Light © 2020

Stalled poetry

Multicolor stain glass shards

The flooring cover of his chambers

Antiquated cobwebs adore the ceilings

Skeletons of dried rose stems

Propped inside cracked vases

Now display dust instead of petals

Their floral scent, creully suffocated

Her picture hangs a wall

All to itself but draped in a dirty cloth

Antique harden ashes in a fireplace

Not a stale speck will stir itself

Fragments of fresh air have long left

His library shelves filled

Of unfulfilled dreams and wishes

Pictures of yesteryear’s bleeding their color

Spent candles strewn all about

Even his chair has dilapidated

On his desk, empty ink bottle and quill

Love letters, marked return to sender

Some- were never to sent to her

Penned on tear stained parchment, furled

The shadow of a man has taken rest

Blending into the walls tapestry

Darkness beneath…a lone window sill


Poet of the Light © 2020