Skip to main content

Creative Writer








Creative Writer


Inspiration/
Isn't native/
To me, though I'm quick to tame it/
Or at least limit savoring/
It when it visits aiming/
To kick me greatly/
In the middle lane of/
My forgetful brain to/
Quicken pacing/
For my writing, simple training/
Is a little racy/
And leaves me wishing greatly/
For a real replacement/
For this crippling anguish/
We deem the daily grind/
I'm staging my/
Coup and staying right/
Here with angry might/
And aiming like/
A scathing hyped/
Gunslinger aiming high/
When noon claims the sky/
Complacence dies/
And patience thrives/
As I take my life/
Back from lazy tithes/
To the deity of shameless dives/
Into basic lines/
Rank and file/
Claiming titles/
Leave you parading, climbing/
Ascending better than a creative writer/
We're safe and gliding/
Over these hated sirens/
Beckoning to repay our plying/
Labor each day with mindless/
Control, just be brave and sign this/
Contract, be a slave with blinders/
Produce, sing great, we'll pirate/
Your work, your pen springs greatness shining/
That gleam makes us finally/
Breathe gracious, writhing/
Because they lack originality/
You're in this fantasy/
So endorse explicit gravity/
In situations that form realer happiness/
Disorder and malice sift/
Through a boorish invalid mix/
Of torpid distractions and/
Torrents of savagery/
The coldness is towering/
Over me, boldly empowering/
The soldier inhabiting/
The deep corners I cowered in/
Doldrums devoured me/
But I forced them to bow to me/
To survive this sordid sick agony/
My soul is still bound to me/
Important, immalleable/
I'm willing to go hungry/
Exposed, lucky/
That these unknown rustic/
Elements didn't throw troubles/
At me, like snow rushing/
To leave me froze, suffering/
Or broken, ducking/
Immobile trusting/
That slowly brushing/
Aside hopeful love brings/
A total dusting/
Off of older clutter/
That posed another/
Threat to my unfocused blunders/
Jagged bones are jutting/
Loathed and drumming/
Hollow, prose has stunted/
The growth of punished/
Ideals, I'm alone and toughened/
By the pull of nothing-/
Ness but nothing fits/
Humming lips/
Are awakening slumbering wisps/
Of fire that feed from crumbling twigs/
Inciting/
The igniting/
Of something missed/
So I'm running quick/
Towards the one I abandoned/
Love ravaged/
My stunned actions/
As I snuck past them/
A dumbass with/
The world saying come grab it/
I was dumbfounded/
Yet loved asking/
Why until my tongue lashed at/
Me, lunged back and/
Started to attack me/
Bust down these/
Apache/
Walls, disappearing in the brush laughing/
Rough bastards/
That rush past these/
Unanswered/
Questions, some magic/

Popular posts from this blog

My Story Of Sexual Abuse

For J. Find peace.



The first time it happened was around the end of 1999. My Mom and my Aunt were busy prepping everything for the holidays, and my older cousin begged to babysit me. Looking back, though there was nothing that indicated what he would do to me, I now find it odd that he showed so much extra attention towards me. In the days prior, when all of the kids played whatever trivial games we dreamed up, he would go out of his way to ruin my fun. I remember one instance where we were playing Heads Up 7-Up or something similar, and though my head was down, he stopped the game and said that I was peeking at the other players, something banned by the rules. "No I didnt!", I protested. "Yeah you did, I seen you!", he'd reply mockingly. My two front teeth stuck out prominently due to a mix of bad genetics and awkward dental work, and I told one of my other cousins, in jest, that I'd gladly trade my teeth for hers. We laughed, until I heard him behind us.…

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years

As my parole date looms and I prepare to muster out of the service that's cradled me the entirety of my adult life, I face the future with an uneasy trepidation coupled with my characteristic combative nature.
I've heard every excuse, tempting me with bonuses and transparent promises regarding where I could live next, to tales of woe and agonizing regret, detailing the life of a miscreant that fleed from the Navy, expecting to flourish in the free world, no longer bound by the constraints of military life.
Eager and cherry, they're invariably met with a crippling reality, sprinting head first into a shallow pool of filthy water barely concealing jagged, dangerous rocks and craters.
I'll take my chances as I retake the reins of my life, though, even this far out, I know that my path will hardly be traditional, and will probably offend some traditionally and civically minded elders.
I plan to drift, languid but controlle…

The Desert

The Desert



Dry air in a normally humid climate is not conducive to a strong immune system. The shock is sudden and violent on an unseen level, I'm sure.

I never thought I'd suffer from stifling congestion and repetitious fits of coughing while stationed in Hawaii, but I was proven wrong recently.

As I pen this, my throat, though healed and no longer reacting in an incendiary manner when forced to swallow, is as arid and barren as the Mojave.

My chest is harboring a veritable barricade of mucus, and each pill I pop, in hues of rose red, ocean blue and grass green, chip away at bricks of the stubborn, phlegmatic stowaways.

My nose is on the brink of suicide, and breathing in coats each gust of air with a Welcome Aboard package of sandpaper and gravel.

In short, I'm fucked.

Yesterday I spent half the evening limping around wincing, my side cramped by an invisible knife, present and piercing, jostling with each aching step.

Save for a few meandering sets and reps performed to…