She turns the key, unlocks the door

Trying not to creak the floor

If she is found to be home late

Blood and bruise will be her fate

Attempts to leave without a map-

No plan or goal makes her turns back

The house is filled with battered fear

A life of pain in sixteen years


Her father died when she was three

Consumed, he ran into a tree

He slept two weeks without a wake

Her mother took on his full plate


She took a job to pay the debts

It paid in cash and tipped regrets

A greater damage caused by men

She sniffed a line given by them


It numbed her face, her soul, her core

She needed less by wanting more

Her daughter fell into the first

She gave her up and blamed her curse


The girl was placed into their care

A family claimed they would be there,

They’d watch her grow and mend her heart

Their lying words began from start


This girl did grow, but not inside

She learned to run, to bleed and hide

She could not speak, she only cried

(Her father drank, yet they both died)


Her scars were carved onto her arms

And twelve years passed by bringing harm

She prayed at night that she would pass

Her heart was made from broken glass


The same glass stabbed into her limbs

Emotions felt as life grew dim

And as she crept into her bed

A voice she heard behind her head


Tonight would vary from the others

As she cried and pulled her covers

Up to her face, he only grinned

He uttered out, “The fun begins…”


He tried to touch her fragile skin

She winched and grew away from him

Her strength was not a match for his

He pulled his mouth into a kiss


She fought tonight more than had before

She kicked him down onto the floor

A hand had struck her weary face

As blood now marred her pillowcase


The names he gave without deserve

He beat her down with more than words

A life now flashed before her eyes

Yet, it was not her own demise


She now knew what she must do

A piece of glass she chose to use

Into his neck she carved her pain

And as it flowed he spoke her name


Apologies were not the time

She watched the life drain from his mind

And as the blood began to form

She arose and locked the door


A bag of things she quickly packed

The sun now shone out from the black

She walked into the woman’s room

She’d freed her also from her tomb


The lady screamed when she saw red

She told her that the man was dead

“He did not get what he came for,

Instead his blood he chose to pour.”


She took the stairs, departing then

The air was fresh, was warm and thin

The rising sun felt through her coat

She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat


“My name is what I have been made,

They take my thoughts from night to day.

My life erased when I was three,

Unto no one, I am, Memory.”

Try Again

Every day I fail to be

A winner, victor- Woe is me,

I lay with comfort in the rain

I speak, I fall; I rise in shame


My actions bring forth great demise

My lying tongue’s false alibis,

I pray for strength yet fail to try

I cross my heart and gouge my eyes


The storm clouds pour upon my head

With thorns and rocks I make my bed,

Free me from these chains that bind-

The coldness stains upon my mind


I freeze in flames yet drown in fire

The bread I eat makes me grow tired,

I do not cry; I lack the tears

I cannot stand up to my fears


A fear of failing is my name

A life of grief, I have no blame,

Born to wallow in the sun

I have no strength to overcome


I must rise and claim my soul!

I will loosen Death’s fierce hold,

Even though the path is glass

I’ll make my mark upon his back


You cannot win if you don’t try

You cannot see with blinded eyes,

You cannot find if you won’t seek

No one will know if you don’t speak


Tell the world and spill your words

A whispered voice will not be heard

Without the rain, we will not bloom

Send your pain into its tomb

            -and try again


Church bells tolled- while children sang-

While one man’s life is brought to shame

He failed to see the hands and feet,

While Innocence did cross the street


A drink or two he fed his frame

While all along the children sang

Across the yard there stood a bar

A church and booze, just steps apart


He’d been in trouble once before

And to the Judge he stood and swore

He crossed his heart and hoped to die

That he would never drink and drive


A year or two he kept that vow

Then the beast began to howl

 Succumbed to poison drink once more

While Innocence gasps from the floor


He heard the voices when he crashed

These tiny angels unabashed

Singing songs of hope and trust

While he gave in to fear and lust


A child’s mind is full of thoughts

Lacking greed, decay and rot

If we could be or see like them

This dying world would likely mend


Our actions tear the world apart

While hate does breed in blackened hearts

The Creator of the sky and Earth

Created love-

                        -we created a curse

This is Not Your Home

Rise up, my child, you are not alone

These broken walls and blood stains, they are not your home

Yesterday lies in the waste; today you lost your mind

The grieving voices follow, creeping from behind


This is not your home, we are preparing for the next

A life of pain and agony, a struggle for each breath

A fear of what you’ll find when you look into the mirror

The water may seem murky, in a few days it will clear


With haste we end our fate; a noose, a gun, a blade

With actions made upon oneself, these cannot be changed

 This is not your home, with patience we must wait

The concrete is not broken there; no rust is on the gate


Rise up and make your way, your path is buried in the ground

A bleeding heart will lead you, a guide can still be found

Scars remind us pasts were pained yet they cannot hurt you today

This is not your home; there is a hand to lead the way…

Twenty Four

In twenty four seconds a life is erased

Two arms and two legs and a nose on a face

A beating heart ceased, bright eyes cannot see

Their newly formed lungs will not let them breathe


Thirty six hundred to daily dispose

Seventy two thousand fingers and toes

Who gave us charge to value their life-

As worthless, imperfect, a burden, a strife?


One point two million, each year become none

Daughters and fathers, mothers and sons

Nameless they are as they are thrown away

Never will they feel the warmth of the day


Such greed that exists for the one who will choose

As Death does perfect his infant sized noose

Under four hundred, a price that is set

To slaughter a child, impregnate regret


They will not love, will not feel, will not be

Never will they break their heart, take a knee

An ode to the silenced, forgotten and gone

Created in love yet dead before dawn


I call out the man who cares not for the child

No coroner called for the corpses that pile

No gravestone is made for the ones who are lost

With pain, endless grief added in to the cost


When you call for Death, you are not a man

Slapping away at the out-reaching hand

How can you think you’re the strongest of all?

I’m biting my tongue while little ones fall


I plead to the woman to think and then act

Despair damaging, adding weight to their back

My mother, alone, raised two in her home

We struggled and groaned, yet now we are grown


Scars will be felt as long as your days

Hopeless and anguished will now be your ways

No choice ever made will burn hot like coal

Aborting creation will damage the soul


The choices we make disfigure the earth

More than the wars that leave blood in the dirt

The quest to find peace will never be found

While we murder children who don’t touch the ground

A Poet’s Blight

Rejection can come in various ways

From under the bed, a slap to the face

A note that is read, a rumor well-spread

A refusing denial that starts in your head


No matter the depths or the course of your words

Ears that are hard will not let them be heard

Who is the one who will deem them of worth?

A poet, alone, cannot lift their curse


A burden it is, to carry this weight

Telling a story and writing its fate

Appealing a crowd while asking for alms

Struggling to feed while penning a psalm


The market collapsed and all left are gone

The ones who survived are poverty’s pawns

Stricken with grief, they write what they will

Selling their soul for a couple small bills


What happened to the author’s frail heart?

Meagerly praying for a simple part

A house and a car will not make one whole

A title or worth is more than a role


The blight of the poet will bring many ways

Persistence is key when searching for fate

I’d rather given up than to ever give in

I won’t sell my core, I don’t care if I win

The Weeping of Three

A fragile, dear soul slips into his grave

The soft sounding siren has swept him away

As waves to a beach or a shell to the sand

The items beneath are now part of the land


After his shift, the father of three

Was traveling home and was picking up speed

 The sun masked the ice as he tipped back his flask

The wall that he hit made him fly through the glass


The news reached the ears while they waited at home

Half-grown, now confused from the words on the phone

The eldest, sixteen, sat her two sisters down

One year to the day when their mother had drowned


The grief that consumed them ate skin and then soul

The darkness surrounded, their minds lacked control

Battered and bruised, bloody, beaten, besmeared

Sullied and soiled, hearts heavy with fear


The weeping of three was a terrible sound

The noise of their tears were a thud to the ground

Shock and denial, then guilt and then pain

Bargaining anger, depressing dismay


Their father had struggled to build them a life

While numbing the pain after losing his wife

He failed to recover and never did heal,

Now who will pay for the little girl’s meals?


The state will decide where they spend their next days

A judge will then deem where they are set to stay

The life of a family may be torn apart

A sea and a wall left a thorn in their hearts


What will they do if divided and frayed?

The girls pack their bags and they set on their way

No journey is set, or location is known

Regardless, together is where they call home

When We Forget

*For all those moments when we forget what actually upset us


A ticking clock that tracks the time

Retelling grief, enlarging lies

As light does slip far from your eyes

You soon forget the details


The blood and tears do constant fall

A forlorn home with frozen walls

The fractured knees will not stand tall

The facts precede the entrails


What were the words that you did hear?

Who had the tongue that pierced the ear?

A fragile soul gives in to fear

Constant thought corruption


Misunderstanding escalades

No attempts for peace are made

Tranquility succumbed to raid

A fragile mind erupted



Recounting stories, one will see

The factors change realities

What truly happened cannot be

A fight without a reason


Emotions blown and thoughts reborn

The faultless mind, in two, is torn

The innocent is brought to mourn

Every change of season


Before you act, investigate

And then choose which side you will take

A leafless yard does need no rake

Let wisdom have his vote


Two sides will speak mere hints of truth

Telling tales full of abuse

Like seeds a lie will take its roots

A bridge over a moat

A Landfill’s Bloom

Trapped in a fight, Forgiveness vs. Sin

The light cannot shine if you won’t let it in

A world full of grief, decay and demise

A hollowing soul emits pain in your eyes


Your family and friends have all left you again

A life of despair to which there is no end

A darkness is coming, a terrible storm

Yet, without the rain we cannot be reborn


With mortar and stone you proceed with a wall

The lightning that strikes will not let you stand tall

With Innocent’s death there is nothing else left

A pile of bones is where you choose to rest


An urn holds the ashes of what used to be

A bracelet of chains will not let you run free

You feel no one cares as you write your last will

(A beautiful flower can grow in landfill)


Wondering what your life has become

Instead of a hand, you pick up a gun

With agony piling on top of your head

“My family will be better off when I’m dead.”

Such foolish a statement, words that are not true

What in the world will your family now do?

Your children will lead the same life that you have

You’re taking your life and you’re taking their dad


The smile you give to the ones who look up

To you, to the sky; they’re the ones you’ll corrupt

How can you be so selfish to act?

Do you still believe they don’t care if you crack?


You’ll leave them, disease them, throw dirt in their face

You gave them a home now you’ll give empty space

A memory beaten and tired and torn

What will they do when they step on a thorn?


Who will tell them there is beauty to find?

Who will help shape their small, delicate mind?

If you choose to leave then you choose to deceive

A lie is the last trick you have up your sleeve


Put down the gun and step into the rain

The night is what prepares us all for the day

Look in the eyes of the ones who you love

They are the answer to prayer from above

I Have A Friend

I have a friend who sleeps in a grave

He took the road that once I had paved

He fell asleep and his heart failed to beat

Oh, how I wish he’d stayed off of that street


The dope that he bought, he had done it before

With each slam he put a fresh crack in his door

The hinge became loosed and the walls did wear thin

I even recall my last meeting with him


He had a pain and a void in his soul

He heard the voices, they took his control

His ashes I have in a frame by my bed

He’ll never have children, he’ll never be wed


It’s been seven years since I have seen him

I still hear his voice; he was more than a friend

He was a brother, in him I felt home

When I was a traveler with nowhere to roam


The hole in his chest where his heart used to beat

He filled it with needles and chains and defeat

He had a girlfriend, a sister, a mom

The agony felt, he numbed with a bomb


The blast ravaged through his ribs and his mind

Leaving his friend in the filth from behind

Could I have done more for this friend who has lost?

Could I have been better at paying his cost?


His picture I carry, it wears every day

A lock of his hair is in the same frame

He could not bear the struggle within

For seven long years I have not seen my friend…


The dead will still pile the roads and the street

The earth will spill blood on soft and pure feet

Children will suffer and starve with no plate

How can I change the innocent’s fate?


Josh, is the name, of the one in the grave

One in the lot of the ones needing saved

Too quickly he lost his life and his limbs

For seven long years I have not seen my friend…


*Please keep living*