On sleepless nights

under supernova stars

we try to capture

deep space


of displaced



a helpless feeling

a dandelion


blowing in the wind

trying to hang-on

to its mother.

Chemicals mix

in mismanaged minds

toxic waste

spewing rage

on the road

removing control

from smart-phone eyes


swiping traffic

with murderous negligence

swiping left

swiping right

for love

for an urge



insignificant seedlings

landing, on blistering pavement

beaten ground

or soft

green grass

where dandelions grow

in dandy yellow expensive clothes

picked by a girl

and arranged, in a bouquet

filled with weeds

she sees as flowers.

When nothing goes right

and everything is wrong

when your life is hanging on

by its roots

ripped off

and blown to hell

cooking, in the hot sun

Make Butter!


beyond recorded time


What do you have

besides corrupted chemicals

a soul seeking perfection

in infinite chaos

a woman running

while she smokes a cigarette

a religious man


at a priest

“Don’t be religious!”

the questions

on sleepless nights

and tired mornings

are answered

in echoes

when we never made a sound.


the noise

you don’t hear.

You think

when you should know.

You follow the rules

so you don’t do wrong


Good living

is accepting

the bad,

and doing

the good.

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