Friday, December 2, 2016

Thursday, November 17, 2016


I see that green light.
Is it on for me?
Everlong it glows...
Telling me to go. 

I'm yellow slow.

Himeros ahead
Expecting something red.
I see that green light.
It's still green.

Thursday, November 10, 2016



You say too much, like how you’ve been
Cuz you’re sweet like that. You’re sweet like that..
And you’re running far from where you’ve been
You run so fast but you must come back.  

You love like.. you love like… You love like you love.
Cuz you pray like… you pray like… you pray like its rough. 

I can see into your radio soul
And it’s beautiful. So beautiful
Sing out loud with your radio soul
Cuz it’s beautiful.  So beautiful. 

Don’t be lonely, like how you’ve been
When you’re in the black. Under attack
And you should have peace where you’ve been
Praying God come back. Please come back!  

You love like.. you love like… You love like you love.
Cuz you pray like… you pray like… you pray like its rough.

I can see into your radio soul
And it’s beautiful. So beautiful
Sing out loud with your radio soul
Cuz it’s beautiful.  So beautiful.

Can you hear God's song where you go?
Radio Soul.. Radio Soul...
Is there pain in your face, crying for grace?
Radio Soul... Radio Soul.
Find rest. Find Peace. Find Hope....
It's there for you... God is waiting for you... Radio Soul.
He's waiting for you.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Jessica Rabbit

Jessica. Beautiful, Jessica. Your autumn hair sets me on fire the way it teases across your face, hiding your purple eyes like nightshade. Those eyes they find me in a crowded room. Lingering with affection. They satisfy like crisp water pouring over crimson lips.

Your slender frame sways with tight curves. You were drawn that way. Drawn with seduction. You animate me. Every moment with you is pleasing.

Give me your song, Jessica. Sing to me your passions. Tempt me with your tune.

I want to do right, like other men do... But I want you for my own. Selfishly. For the night. For any night. Always for me.

 I crave your skin pressed against mine. Hands against hands. Play your games with me. Games I like.

What would your husband think? Would he be valiant? Would he spare you from the judge and save you from the dip?

I’m such a maroon.

It’s wrong.
I know it’s wrong.
Forgive me this request.
Sing me one last song.

Tuesday, October 11, 2016


Nights have been hard. I used to be afraid of the dark, as I’m sure most people were, but I’ve never known anyone to be so terrified by the shadowed black as my beautiful boy Milo. In the late hours the boy would wake in a panic, screaming through the thin walls, waking everyone up. I hated those nights. He would be lost in a nocturnal horror, and I would be filled with anger. I’d yell and I’d spank, but nothing changed. This went on for years until we moved into the city. Things were better then. He’d lay in bed at night, staring out his window into the geometric city sky filled with blocks and angles of walls and roofs, burning with the wonderful warm glow of ambient light. It was never dark in the city. There was always an office light left on, or a street lamp below buzzing with the electric appearance of a circuit board. There was so much wonder and peace within the shards of orange glow that rested on his face that he always fell fast asleep. 

Months had stacked when I became aware that Milo had been sleeping a lot, not only at night, but during the day as well. I should have noticed sooner. A high fever had boiled the strength out of him. The young boy found himself staring endlessly into the moving world outside the glass, unable to be a part of it. I kept thinking the fever would pass, letting the hours turn into days. It wasn’t until Milo began coughing flem and blood that I fully realized something was wrong. I rushed him to the ER. It was bacterial meningitis. He didn’t have long. I stayed with him, holding his hand all night long. He begged for the light to stay on, and I obliged. As long as the light was on he was at peace.

“Just don’t let it go dark.” He requested of me.

“I’ll keep the light on for you. I promise.” I assured him, with a tight squeezing of his hand. And I did.

Sometime just before dawn, Milo’s body softened and relaxed indefinitely. He was only 7.

“Was”. That damn word “was”. I should be used to “was” by now. I’ve made peace with all the things I’ve had to put behind me. I was a student, I was the fastest kid on the soccer fields, I was a husband. I’ve been a lot of things that “was”, but I never thought I’d have to say “I was a father”. Horrible that life should even consider the title an option to remove. I know I’m no longer a student or the fastest on the field. I shouldn’t be anyways. But “daddy”, daddy is a word I doubt I’ll ever give up. I was a father... I am a daddy even though it doesn’t feel like it anymore.

Nights have been hard. I think about those late hours I’d argue with him to return to his bed, crying, desperate, afraid. I’d spank him and yell. So much regret. I desired so much to have a bed to myself, to sleep just one night without interruption; now I have nothing but restless peace. Two empty beds and one tired man pacing, waiting for the dream to end. My dear boy. I miss you. 

I replay his words in my head. “Just don’t let it go dark.” He requested of me. 

“I’ll keep the light on for you. I promise.” I will, Milo.

Wherever my son is, he wouldn’t have to be afraid of the dark. I’d leave a light on for him. Always on. I promise.

The Narrow

Absolutely no one knew that inside the house, underneath the creaking floorboards, crawled a thin and spidery creature known as the Narrow.

Thin creature,  by  Derrick86
It’s long wispy white limbs bend and fold like sticks as it emerges in Evelyn’s moonlit room.  

The kind hearted Evelyn, beautiful in her youth, sleeps peacefully beneath the blanket that hardly bends under the Narrow’s light body, and is unaware that she is being watched by large black eyes.

The Narrow stares and waits, sharing the bed in the comforting presence of a warm bodied friend, with plans to leave before the blue morning light wakes Evelyn up.

(A friend gave a writing prompt for a four sentence story about something peculiar.)

Tuesday, September 13, 2016



Something cool brewed in the thick gray clouds. Specks of dust swallowed in a liquid shell swelled with great weight until one by one each fell. And suddenly it began raining. Logan didn’t like the rain. It wasn’t the dampness but the sudden and radical change that turned everything over. The air pressure rose and dropped, the temperature cooled, the light receded, and all the sounds of nature were replaced with the static crash of an army of drops.  It was all too aggravating for a child of great structure, like Logan, who became overwhelmed by such change.

Like most rainy days, Logan stayed in and watched TV with his headphones on under his heavy blanket to ignore the blatant defiance of nature. But today was different. Today was Logan’s brother Lucas' birthday. All morning while Lucas was out, Logan had been setting up ribbons and banners to prepare for the evening of singing and eating cake . As hard as Logan tried his best to block out the rain, the promise and excitement of a birthday party was ever present in the corner of his eye, holding his focus where he didn’t want it. All Logan could think about was how the rain would ruin his older brother’s party. Frustrated, Logan began to chant “Rain rain go away, come again another day.”

The rain continued to tap the roof more loudly than before. Logan continued chanting, this time a little louder. “Rain rain go away, come again another day.”

The wind shook the house with playfulness, but Logan didn’t want to play. Instead his frustration grew ever stronger, loudly singing  “Rain rain go away, come again another day.”

It was then that a bold wind pushed in the door. Logan pulled off his headphones and yelled “GO AWAY RAIN!”

As he shouted, the bold wind took hold of the balloons and pulled them out into the open world. Lucas couldn’t come home to a party without balloons. Logan wanted to yell. He wanted to cry and break things. But most of all, he wanted to get those balloons back.

The boy rushed out the door and chased his brother’s balloons, grabbing hold of the group of strings before being lifted up into the clouds. His feet dangled above the rooftops as he ascended higher and higher, until all at once he stopped.

Somewhere beyond those thick gray clouds, above the rain, the balloons became caught in a net.  It wasn’t just Lucas’s birthday balloons either. Thousands of balloons had been taken up into the sky and held on the opposite side of the cloud. Each balloon was  unique and wonderful, with it’s own special color. Logan could hardly contain the rush of excitement at the sight of something so wonderful. He wanted to touch them and to find a place to keep them all.

Before he could even devise a plan, he began sorting the balloons. Diligently the bright boy worked, putting his favorite colors red and purple on the ends and green in the middle; making sure even the oranges, yellows, and blues had their place. Everything had it's place within the wonderful spectrum.  He continued to stack the balloons downward, creating a path back to the surface of the earth far below him. Balloon after balloon, stack after stack, the rows of colorful bodies bowed until finally reaching Logan’s home. The rain had all but settled, and the light gleamed off the mist suspended in the air. Logan looked up at his work and smiled with satisfaction that he created a rainbow for his older brother. It was truly something worth celebrating.