Confessions of a Caged Animal

Many people say they like it here
for the changing of the seasons.

I prefer the changing of the guard dogs
post to post, they know all too well
my patterns and scents.

It's harder to cover your tracks
than the track marks left behind
in the wake of self-gratification
and liquid dreams.

Even more difficult to stay afloat
in a sea of greed.
Though a heavy heart's a useful life raft
even flooded with emotional baggage.

The seasons will change everywhere anyhow.
So I adapt, roll with the punches,
defend the shakedown,
deny the takedown
and make visible God's breath.

Till the final bell cracks,

liberty or death.

Infertile Progression


Random acts of blindness, visible
even to the untrained eye

To look away, look down
at their cellular phone
that never seems to leave their hand
Anything to avoid eye contact
Where a smile may have to be returned
without a receipt
or a mouth may have
no greeting to repeat
Common defense mechanism
of the common fool
as common and courtesy 
have been divorced for some time now
after common bedded down ignorance

Seems when humans stop breeding

We'll have solved the problem



Before most of the weary world
Returns from slumber
Before the bustle
Before the false
You feel life in everything
A universal pulse
Earth living and breathing or
Emitting trumpets of pain,
Trumpets of change
Like a free-form composition
Moving you through
Possessing you to

Lose your mind
Ground the body
Tame your desires
Whitewash the canvas
Fears to the fires