Writer | Director


It isn’t the gore, it is the shock.

It is the climb, not the rock.

Silhouettes turn shadows loose as your hips unlock.

Jazz drums run through sorrow and woe,

Contraband thoughts are stowed,

Abductees of sanity.

Adore becoming

Pretend nothing,

For twists that ask us to adapt,

Commandeer the fear,

Keep it kidnapped,

Don’t employ violence,

When it’s your time to act.

Gun’s thunder lies,

Forever caught,

In the land behind,

Where it sought,

The whim of your wits wind purrs and skims,

Over waves of synonyms.

Sewing hems that mend our broken heads,

Not wigs, nor toupees, not that kind of thread.

Some eagles are bald and life’s not fair,

Plump your feathers not your hair,

Love has roots even if its in the air.

Life is a playground,

Do you dare, to spin your wheel,

For you can’t keep a spare.

This maze is merely dust.

Even god seems a bit nonplussed;

His burning bush lived to combust,

So worry of the gallows greed, not about its rust.

We are all hypocrites just some have more hats,

Hurdles can be jumped or just knocked flat.

As not only the captain shows the way,

If at long last you are starting,

at least you are starting today.


Vocal toxin

Ridding all, as we lose the plot,

Divisions imbued through crowds it’s coughed,

Burning the heather scorched into a blot.

Golden chords of prayers,

Chase battered soothsayers

Whose learned prose,


To expose,





Destroying names,

Removing heartbeats,

Of those held dear,

The jealousy

Of insincere


Oh Shakespeare

We shall weep,

Because you could see,

The beautiful incisions.


Here come the collisions.


Smoking crooks,

Lofty peers,

That shall grasp,

At griefs sting.

His inky river,

Drowns his tears.

Jaded and feckless,

Priests and kings,

Leading with lies lingering with sins.



Flurry, Pout, Screw.

While style entwines.

Leaves out-grew,

Our grapevine.


Your way-out,

Is to go all in

Sever the hoardes,

This poems a twin

Avail vices like Peter O ‘Toole

Deciduous buds stop flowering fools.

Go risk your flair, go risk your flame.




One another.

For this bride is not her mother.


Our tune blossomed in the days of lore,

Souls floodlight the throbbing beats.

Mounting counterparts,

Hand me my dime.

As we learn,

To impeach each other’s crimes.

As we yearn,

To reach each others sublime.


Reeling off sequels,

Of the more than equals.

These pushy bar liggers,


Increase their jiggers,


Untying her laces,

Dialling the sky for embraces.


That I’ve missed ya,

Its just her.


And her sista

On toast. Spread, these words, these utterings

The butter brings

You melting,

Into the sofa

We’ve come so far,

I drink from your bar.


I’m spluttering while,

The gutter sings

There’s no room for muttering,

Or stut, stut, stuttering


Strut and bring

The capture of now

bellowing vowels

In the uncovering of howls


Recover your discovery of what it is to be free,

While I discover the recovery of what is to be me.

We’re minuscules inside a whirlpool,

Miniscules standing oh so tall.

Riding the pressure,

Carried on Zephyrs,

While the earth kisses its sparkling jewels.