Hurried People

Beyond the Blue Door
He knows his lifeand what he’ll be, tattoos paint his loyalty, no diploma, no degree, his father died at thirty-three. Four kids she has one on the way, a crystal pipe to light her way, caught in a life she won’t betray, her savior must have lost his way. Justice drives an Escalade, pistols strapped to insure all pay, he must be God, he’s not afraid, fear he feeds on everyday. Their gospel written on prison walls, to stay alive one must walk tall, they may get out, should they get the call, societies brand guarantee’s their fall.

Butterfly Window
Most days, the simple things go unnoticed, it’s not intentional, just lost to routine, like the lamp on the end table, I placed it there thinking, what a great place for a lamp. Now I hardly take notice, it’s just a lamp, I buttered my toast this morning, the crumbs still lay scattered, a minor eye-sore, I will give them my attention as they multiply. A picture may hang off center for days, yet I miss the ashtray and quickly maneuver the remains to their intended target, it’s beyond me why certain things take precedence. Every time I open the back door it cries out as though it was never

Jelly 2
I rarely betray my inner voice knowing full well it’s my only trusted confidant, in lesser times I wouldn’t have given such scribbling a second glance, but for reasons still unknown it captured me. Pasted on a bathroom wall of a rundown service station, between nowhere and roads end, was a farewell message of redemption written in Sharpie black for all to devour and hypothesize. To anyone who might stumble upon these words, born into a ragtag band of wanderers I was dealt the moniker “Jelly” (no last name), it was impossible to determine my heritage from such an array of free love spir

In a Castle
In a castle lives a maiden, no one sees her anymore, wrapped within her tragic scandal, tarnished bars cast on her door. Once she lived a life of wonder, dancing on her crystal floor, all were caught up in her magic, new delights on every shore. Then one day he struck her fancy, dressed in black fine troubadour, singing songs of love and heartbreak, captured heart forevermore. Once he cast his spell upon her, she was added to his score, taken from her virgin flower, left her wanting at her door. Left to drift within her shadow, shaded veil stained by her lore,

Feeding the Fish
Janice lived within her means,less an attraction, more of hope,she carried her wishes close,easy access and big rewards.When she stepped under thelights the outside world faded,she fought for attention knowingher slanted verse is what most want.Her friends found it excessive, heraudience adored her, thirty-two citiesin thirty-six days, she consigned herability by shining the light in dark places.