Hometown Rot

I visit my youthful stomping ground less and less each year. Somehow, the place seems damaged to me. Like a ripe apple that has fallen into the grass. It might be shiny and delicious looking on the top, but when you bend to pick it up, you can see it’s mushy and bruised underneath.

don’t judge fallen fruit
by the color of its skin
rot begins inside

On the Breeze

on a mountain top 
in a cathedral of trees—
god speaks through nature

Monoku#16

In the Alley

There was no grand sunset
painting the sky with
orange and pink hues.
no stars shining down
from Heaven,
no moon to light the way
to salvation
no one to pray for his soul
in the cold and dark
as he lay down
closed his eyes
and said good bye
to the memories

Hipster Invasion

At my favorite bar,
the one I hate the least.
I don’t know the music,
drifting out to the streets.

I have to sit outside,
cause I can’t stand the crowd.
Don’t know what they’re saying,
the music’s too damn loud.

Over in the corner,
playing the hipster scene.
There’s two twenty somethings,
hitting on a prom queen.

Sipping their microbrew,
trying to impress her.
All the while their eyes are,
trying to undress her.

But the sun warms my face,
this beer is good and cold.
Sitting at this table,
watching the day get old.

My youth may be gone now,
but I don’t have regrets.
I lived the way I want,
that’s as good as it gets.