In "The Bard’s Eye on Now," Shakespeare’s spirit returns to behold the wonders and flaws of the modern age. With awe, he watches the rapid rise of technology, where thoughts soar like arrows across the sky and iron chariots race through the heavens. Yet, despite these marvels, he mourns the coldness of human hearts and the corruption of power, as greed and violence still plague mankind. This poem ...

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Ladybug, ladybug on my wall

It was there all summer, but now it's fall.

It was there all season, but never found reason

To stand and fight, or take off in flight.

It just clung there helpless.... on my wall.

Afraid to stand, afraid to fall.

Not really sure about its gender,

Just watched it miss out on life's spendor.

Was it waiting there for a man?

Or for someone el...

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You got alot of nerve, stirring up mess

Churning emotions til they fester and burn

Wrecking havoc, thriving in your habitual habit

Unconcerned with the environment, leaving it in misalignment 

Antagonized by your exasperation

Declared our common enemy out of correlation

To fan out the flames of your generation

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Traffic, construction

Still building to touch the sky

Earth is all we need

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Dear Universe,

Why did you give me a flower so beautiful,

then make me watch its petals fall?

Why did you gift me a single seedling,

but forbid me from watering it?

Why did you lead me to the purest of water,

yet poison it with your toxins?

You chuckle to youself

as I try to overcome it,

overpower it,

out determine it,

all the while knowing

deep within the ...

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I tell you

I'll love you no matter what.

I don't care what they think, 

fuck their approval. 

And yet I find myself, 

crawling back.

Plagued with naive hope,

self-loathing weakness. 

A bird plucking its own feathers

one by one. 

Until all that's left

is an ugly mangled mass, 

defeated by its own destruction. 

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The lust for war
is skin-tight & as hemoglobin to bone--
turning poets into preaching prophets
politicians into potion preachers
children into cheapened chattel
soldiers into senseless slogs
intellectuals into inflated idiots
conservatives to corny connivers
liberals into leaky liars &
the right into the wrong.

simply because war is a blood poison
and war is psychotic chaos,
a f...

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Rubber scrapes the soil

orchestrating a path

with feet.

Watching tread copyright nature

with a flawed melody,

a percussion of leaves crunches beneath,

touching gales with a verse of words-

before the chorus fades.

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Carcinogenics in every single thing we buy
From our food, clothes, to even our hair dye
Although Europe does indeed do more to try to protect us
America really doesn't seem to give a flying fudge
They have many slimy loop holes which risk our health and safety
Like the fragrance loop hole that has, over these years, affected us far too greatly
They need not disclose chemicals that they use t...

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I can't see
The insides of my eyelids have been my solace
All I know is the sycamore I lay under
I lay on my back in hopes that my eyes will  miraculously open to the crisp sky
The sycamore rots
At least I think its a sycamore
It has an indistinguishable tang of cinnamon that cooks off the bark and hangs in the hot air in summer
and a desperate perfume of musk from the roots lingers in the ...

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I live by necessity,

I compromise my desires

for security.  Ideals

compromised for base comforts.

I play by rules I believe

to be fundamentally

unfair.  I envy the gulls

I lie watching at the coast.

They live by urge - fly here, fly

there - investigate a pile

of seaweed, take off out to

sea to sit and bob for hours.

I envy the fox, living

by in...

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I am an artist of words,
an archer of the woods. 
A constellation of the brightest stars.
An adventurous being,
with dreams that follow the galaxies. 
I seek only wonders,
I seek only peace.
Not mistake me as an ordinary piece. 
My arrow strikes in the souls of others.
It does not have an aim but it follows,
it stays inside like a deep wound. 
It does not break, it just gets stuck. 
St...

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a muttering crowd gathers
'round a well of human tears
they lower dirt-sodden buckets to recover
the wet product of night terrors,
tumult and nascent fear

an ejaculate shower glistens
on the dead leaves and automobiles
while nature howls
then hunkers down in silence
posturing for the next kill

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Wild wolf

I heard you howl

at the moon.

I believe it was

sometime in June.

Wild wolf

you sounded lonely

you sounded sad.

Was I scared?

No I was mad!

Why?

Wild wolf

in myth you

are evil.

This fear from

the time primeval.

...

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I heard a wolf

howl at the moon,

I believe it was

sometime in June.

It sounded lonely

it soudnded sad

was I scared?

No I was mad!

Why?

The wolf is being

hunted, exterminated.

Why is the wolf

so very hated?

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