Short Prose (Poems) Again


The night glistens with palpable ferocity

Evening dwellers relish the discourse

Failing to see themselves as who they really are

Lost souls in a futile search

Wake up, dead man

* * *


Nothing worthwhile is everywhere!

Items all around

My thoughts are infested with filth

Gotta get clean again


* * *


Weary road, beaten down and worn to the ground

Rest thy stone upon the earth and gather thy strength

to take tomorrows travelers wherever they desire

But urge them off your smooth path gently, kindly

for they know not where it will take them

-The road less taken is an adventure in the making

Help them, oh weary road, help them find their calling!

* * *


Squeeze out the juice

and pour me a tall glass.

For I wish to sip

the nectar of the earth.