Love is a joust,
and we’re all given favors,
indentured like Faust,
to taste many flavors,

longing to gallop,
not knowing the peril,
crash with a wallop,
heart smitten virile,

and you feel your alive,
though you know that you’ve died,
but you’ve chosen to drive,
for the thing that you vied,

now coming together,
to crash and collide,
through perilous weather,
aloft do we ride,

and sundered is one,
though oft times it’s both,
where under the sun,
their blood makes an oath,

to never again,
to hold and to keep,
commit to this sin,
in armor we sleep,

though shrouded and mystic,
we say that it be,
serrated sadistic,
the price and the fee,

and lances the core,
chain mail subverted,
bludgeoned abhor,
they wince cause they hurted,

the field left tattered,
the melee devolving,
helms bitter battered,
no problem resolving,

they hobble to steeds,
with fragments of lances,
a heart that still bleeds,
forsaken romances,

here comes another,
and there goes the one,
again we’re together,
the foray not done,

and holding the rags,
of promising wenches,
eternity drags,
dredging the trenches,

that run through our flesh,
they cover our souls,
and leave but a mesh,
with splinters and holes.



Heart a light on fire,

waves and embers crashing from within,

love again desire,

a barrier that’s breaking thin,

scored and battered,

clings to the comfort of loneliness,

crushed and shattered,

but never left in emptiness,

hope alive and well,

emblazoned still with tears,

words that run to hell,

cursed by fairy fears,

on like heady mules,

but steady moving forward,

truly they are fuels,

when you are looking inward,

day is sure to come,

bringing with it warmth and heat,

though it’s lost to some,

love will never know defeat.



A little while back there was a much smaller me. I was about 5 years old and we had a gang called the Rock Knockers, a bunch of nutty little kids of which I was probably the oldest. We would climb up Mars Hill by the train tracks and try to leverage large rocks from the side of the mount. We’d watch them as they jaunted down the hillside crushing stems and kicking up dust… I totally recommend it for thrills, but it can be very unsafe.

One day we knocked one out that was probably 3 to 4 hundred pounds, it was large and round, a gargantuan of a stone. Well, it tumbled down to our great amusement and came to rest on the train tracks. The feeling I got just then was very much opposed to levity. I was terrified of what would happen shortly and we all ran like hell to distance ourselves from the scene. There’s just no way in hell we could move that boulder from there with our tiny little hands. If you ask my brother, he’ll tell you that he saw the locomotive which struck the object the very next day; and it wasn’t pretty.

We did a lot of damage when we were little, I was so out of control back then. Another time, we went up to an abandoned duplex in Chateaux Royale (little Mexico to some) and smashed out every visible window;  in broad daylight. Surprisingly, someone witnessed our frolicking and notified the authorities, who had little trouble tracking us back to the trailer. I told the police that I busted the miniscule window of the bathroom, which was true but not completely true; I may have busted the main foyer window as well. My dad didn’t even punish me, he was glad that I claimed the least expensive window. That’s what we adults like to call, “bad parenting.”

I don’t worry much about what kids have done or will do, they will never be as incorrigible as I am; the bar is just way too high. My beautiful children are some of the most wonderfully behaved persons I have ever met. I am so proud of each of them. Their mom keeps an eye on them fairly well and when they are with me, I observe very closely to see that they are safe, because I love them. My father let me roam freely, miles from home from about the time that I was four. I started shoplifting when I was six and I nearly killed myself and others regularly. Greg Carrillo was there when I got my scalp grazed by the undercarriage of a train once upon a time.

As I’ve gotten older, it’s occurred to me that I wasn’t responsible for my actions when I was a child. My father was, he had to pay the price for that broken window. He neglected us and we ran rampant about the hillside wreaking havoc. But when I reached 18, I started paying the price myself. I became culpable for my own actions. I’ll admit that I still do some childish things, but less episodes and less occasions. I definitely have a ways to go towards becoming an adult, but I really don’t think I turned the corner of manhood until I was 33; after a failed marriage and a slew of babies and a lot of pain.

Someone told me something really solid once, someone I don’t even particularly like, but he was right. He told me that if you love someone one, you treat them accordingly; you love them with your actions. Kisses and hugs are nice, but not being cruel and vindictive is like… way nicer. There are only so many apologies that I could give before she left me for something nicer. Over this lifetime I’ve become gradually more pacific, less malevolent. As an adult (though there have been root causes in my childhood), AS AN ADULT, I am ultimately responsible for my behaviors, my emotions, my words. And that sucks, because I’ve messed up so many times and hurt so many people; and some of these fools actually like me (don’t ask me why.)

You know… a train is like you or I in that manner. It moves along, it carries its freight, it makes that money and it motivates things. However, it doesn’t take much to derail a train, even a small thing can send it tumbling aside. When that happens, people can get hurt. It’s so important to keep that heavy behemoth on track, it’s paramount. Think about that when your careering about your life, bouncing off of those around you; having an effect. I’m sorry for hurting you, I really am; sometimes I didn’t know what I was doing but I swear I’m getting better … unfortunately, sometimes, I am a loco-motive.















Feels like healing,

this energy departs from me,

comes back again refreshed,

it’s cool clarity gained velocity,

like a boomerang,

in a downward spiral,

leaves by the edge of arteries,

returns to the very heart of me,

like life’s blood,

poured into the air,

for salvation,

that was never promised,

gentle and mystifying,

mist defying,


rolls roundabout,

like a roustabout,

gathers no dust,

on this spontaneous arc,

no need for drivel,

soul doesn’t quibble,

with it’s own,

flight as majestic,

or more so,

than tides on oceans green,

green and blue; with orange hue sets on me,

sets me free, like a spirit wind beat,

and sometimes she even dances with me,

don’t need a partner,

she’s like a sparkler,

has no agenda,

I don’t pretend to,

understand her moves,

salient but smooth,

hand on my shoulder,

and when I hold her,

returns to me,

like dust in the wind,

motion within, and without; without a doubt,

I need you now,

and grant you slumber,

a wisp that’s slender,

treads light on me,


as a bow on the violin,

sweetness melody,

it’s trend,


soft collapse,

last flight around,

midnight sound,

kept but not bound,

ever the ground,

heather the greyed,

past retrograde.


Dull and throbbing,

pain is robbing,

peace  from in my heart,

tearing it apart,


fear has stolen,

eyes are swollen,

none should feel this way,

fetid was the day,


eyes they wander,

as I ponder,

what becomes of me?

cast into the sea?


and I dare begin to wonder,

as it’s torn in twain asunder,

may I find a thornless life?

make for me another wife?


will again I seed the flow,

at this point I just don’t know,

but gathering the flecks like flowers,

emergent from the darkest hours,


I see depth within her eyes,

quite adept on wind she flies,

yet imagined like a doll,

she is not her yet- not at all,


but as I tender precious payment,

she girds up a golden raiment,

not a dress- a pearl- or gown,

kindness is her feather down.








Consideration 6/15/15

Sometimes I need to be alone, so that I can come to grips with the immense loneliness that plagues my core. You would think that being alone would exacerbate the issue. It is solely during these moments of solitude that I am forced to face this demon. In truth we are designed to be in communion with those whom surround us, but a centered self is requisite to the health of each of those tangent relationships. Sometimes, I am so deeply anguished that I can’t even comprehend the angle from which my pain is coming. I don’t believe it’s a chemical imbalance, rather a lack of proper adjustment within my psyche. It’s as though I am constantly forgetting who I am and yet eternally attempting to get back to that place; like Sisyphus or some deranged lunatic. Maybe it has something to do with the struggle for self-actualization.

It definitely has a lot to do with being isolated as a child. I was a loner from about 8 years old due to various circumstances and trauma. I think that the time I spent in administrative segregation during my teen years was detrimental to my mental wellbeing, but few people actually give a damn about that and I doubt that anyone will ever address the issue. I believe that this type of social conditioning is the method by which certain entities can serve their interests by populating prisons for pecuniary gain.

What I do know is that the only way to break loneliness is to face it; and get comfortable. I can totally enjoy myself… I mean I’m a full on weirdo. Once I do get comfortable I can totally entertain myself; again a bit of a loony toon am I. Coming full circle, I’m finally able (allowed) to interact with others. Self is centered and ready to play with others. It seems like an oxymoron, but I think it’s an adept paradigm.

Another thing I’ve noticed during my earth-tenure, is that people don’t want to roll with super needy persons… well, codependents relish the torture. Healthy fish on the other hand, go to school with other healthy fish. In any case, this is my catharsis for today and I bid you all adieux and adieux.


You cannot pass through me,
you are not fluid,
you congeal at the tips of my fingers,
I am aware of your superfluous congenialities,
strafe and wing as you will,
I am not ill,
I see things that others do not,
inklings that noone has ought,
I may not be pure- I may not be chrystal,
but I am the one who holds the pistol,
and if I shoot,
and dare I say,
a sprig a chute,
cannot dismay,
but if I sought an open soul,
or relinquish all control,
I hope to leave a gaping hole,
and bury you alike a vole,
I know you read me,
I know you follow,
but I am not a fool as hollow,
hallow thee- but be still sallow,
never free the cost is real,
I’m a field that’s lying fallow,
trod upon and ever broken,
dear I think you get the feel,
you should know- it’s not surreal,
bite the bit and suck the marrow,
hold a vantage not so narrow.