Written Word

Bad News, I’m Afraid


Toil with your moral code until the banks are closed

Lucky streaks begin to roll and slow into familiar lulls

Here’s that hot time in that old tale where the villain bows and folds

Who’s the hero when there isn’t an ascent?


Bad news I’m afraid for you

It’s all over now

All over now


Jesus ain’t takin’ prayers for you

So stop cryin’ out loud

‘Cause you’re cryin’ out loud


Grain against the going forfeits any room to grow

Hold that tongue for bloody cheeks when money starts to show

I’ll be damned for writing checks that bounce into those nonexistent holes

Who takes the thrown when the devil holds the kin?


Bad news I’m afraid for you

You’ve gone out of style

Gone out of style


When the rapture is done and through

You have been exiled

So piss off for awhile


Trash is piling high

You want us at your table?

Take a place in line

The waiting gets so slow

Time to toss the perishables

And find a place to hide


Bad news I’m afraid for you

The camps gone wild

Camps gone wild


And when the bullet strays for truth

We’ll call it reconciled



Loose Story


Crowded plazas

Crafted stanzas

The bastard king is making demands


An incubation

For this occasion

Idea hatched and mapped out the plans


Uniqueness something like a foreign right

The concept of a million heavy eyes

Let it sleep and it’ll flood the dams


If it can’t be staged

Will it be locked in a cage

Or will it fly


Prodding cattle

Herding traffic

Beginning drives on endless highways


Jumping hurtles

Shifting the tragic

The destination has something to say


And if it’s never ever written down

The jewels of kin will slowly slip the gown

Left untethered to seduce insane


Grab it by the leg

Don’t squeeze too hard ‘till it’s dead

And wonder why


Swill that feathered prince

Bring him close to make some sense

Of why we die


Exponents gathered

Vagrants have scattered

Paving streets to make it a town


Buildings erecting

Worth suspecting

A sprawl will shape to take back the crown


And fill the air with all exotic birds

Detail the righteous, perfect and absurd

Pages stacked and hey you’re movin’ now


Should it have clipped wings

Bring a pedestal and wait

Until it tries


When the story ends

Take the key and hold it loosely

In hindsight

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