The Derelicts 

Dear mom or dad,

I know that your really really busy so if you won’t be able to that’s ok. But if you get a chance do you thing we can go see that new movie we had talked about a few weeks ago? The one where you said you’d like to see it to and that we should go, and to remind you when it opens in theaters. Yeah, it’s playing now. 

But I understand if you are too busy, I guess I forgot that you were going to take your new girlfriend and her daughter to the water park this weekend. I might play basketball down the street while you are gone.

Oh but mom can we work on my school art project together? You are so good at creating things. 

Hmmm? Ok, well it’s ok, I can do it by myself, your boyfriend is right, it is “my” project after all. 

Oh dad, I didn’t here you come in. I heated up the leftovers from yesterday, I put your plate in the oven. 

Oh how was it?  That’s the place the has all you can eat breadsticks right? Awesome. We’ll have to try it one day, maybe just the two of us. 


Hello, mom?




Anybody home?

Anybody care?


(Whispering to self) Can you please just talk to me? Maybe hug me out of nowhere and ask me what I’m thinking? 

I want to tell you both about what happened to me today.

I don’t have anybody to smile back at me when I’m home and thinking about a joke, or what happened on the bus, or why I started to cry after school when all my friends got picked up from school.

I don’t want to bug you, I hope you don’t feel that way. I know your busy. I can do more chores if it makes it easier for you.  

I can make your bed and vacuum right after I wash the dishes and clean and mop the bathroom and kitchen before you get home from work. 

But if not that’s ok too. I’ll be in my room. If you need me for anything just let me….






The Storms

Brushing back from the storm that lay to the open pasture in front of him

He stops

Towering in perfect stillness as if his body is of one atrophied muscle that has locked in an eternal spasm

He thinks

Leaving the relative safety of his novice shelter conjures up doubt in his fragile pride and manliness

One step can lead to victory, glory, and a swell of confidence he has never quite possessed since he had the ability of cognitive thought.

An orchestrated wind now taunted him with its frolicking swirls and false charges that bit at his cheeks then dashed away like a bothersome fly.

Crackling clouds pitched over head while the sprawling rain drops seemed to pelt his world into submission with a constant  appetite.

What had only moments before been an empty expression now shone a slight smirk that detailed both the fear and the brave.

His pulsing chest heaved, tugging the buttons on his shirt enough to wrinkle the fabric. A flashing streak blistered the air in remembrance.

Droplets had begun to trickle on his brow and shoulders through the slats of his shelter, staining the cloth that draped across his back from where road dust had settled before his worry grinned.

Another heavy breathe, and a falsely poised stare

His first step is one of retreat,

the only gift he will ever give to his storms.

Coasting On A Day Dream

I shall scoop you to the silver lining of the clouds

Where your dreams may sit in protective wonder

A mere whisper of them is all allowed

Careless clasping brings to the blunder. 

Many steps your journey gained

Yet all to many stumble

To your fancy heart’s regain

From the ever present crumble. 

Suckle what’s a fragile glimpse

Peering past dusks lurking haze

Comfort it with caressing wimps

Shone now you’ve drawn to light, the depths of darkness fazed. 

Drink it in, the warming day

Precious memories from

Other fancy’s find a play

The best is yet to come.

I don’t want your cheek.

In the gentle blue of the dawn to come, I can’t tell where the rest ends and the wake has begun. Only to know on this day much like days past and those yet to be awakened, I see in the stillness of daybreak the desire that swells in me lasting without borders to hinder its span. Defaulting through my ritual of coffee making, teeth brushing, and garden tending….I imagine you. In the trance of my memories I think of the times. Not the sentimental ones not the harsh, none exclusive to any other. Just the times. All that have emblazoned a lasting emotion through a smile or a tear, or a sensual glaze. I have you, or more precisely…it is you that has me. So it’s in this declaration that I express without a terse volume, that as I go, as tempting as it is, I do not want your cheek, what I yearn for is the amorous feel of your lips.


I often lack the strength I need. It’s my voice that gets drowned out by the lack of confidence and second guessing nature that was galvanized in my youth. Now, my days are the same, huddled sheepishly like a wet shivering hound with chattering bones hoping for the storms end to be near. Any glimpse of bolstering opinion is rapidly bedded down before a foothold can be pressed. In times of action, staleness is present. Stoic and steady as a snails glide, the weight of complacency conquers as they watch what could have been.  

Superman Can’t Fly

Forget about peering into the sky for a descending figure to swoop you from you troubles. And do not count on them to be bulletproof or immune to pain either.
And I doubt that they will be wearing colorful spandex as their uniform with an enormous letter or catching logo in plain sight, not matter how essentric they may be. 
I’d also put my bottom dollar that their character and principles have been question a time or to also. 
No, you see, real heros can’t fly, 
But they do get there when you need them.
invincibility from illness and accident is a myth, heros hurt all the time. Heart, soul, and flesh and bone takes the burden of others, that’s the cost of being a hero.
Look for sweat pants, no make-up, dirty jeans, 3 for 10 dollar t-shirts, tussled hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and baseball caps. Most Heroes do not have supermodel looks. 
Real Heroes have to make hard choices that my not have a best case scenario, lives may suffer, feelings hurt, principles may have to be broken for the greater good. The heroes shoulders will ache from the load that keeps their feet from taking flight, that is why real heroes cannot fly

No More, No Less

You may laugh with the fury of a thunder storm
Or you may pose a cornered soft breeze grin 

Your choice is known for certain and will move the eyes who speak to your terms.

And as for the curious with whom their dialect remains foreign 

The sun settles her knowing light upon them as she has given warmth to us

No more, no less.