Category Archives: my favorite poems

eastland

Hallelujah (by Leonard Cohen)

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the lord but you don’t really care for music do you? Well it goes like this the forth the fifth the minor fall and the major lift

eastland

Hallelujah (by Leonard Cohen)

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the lord but you don’t really care for music do you? Well it goes like this the forth the fifth the minor fall and the major lift

shiva

with arms embracing destruction catalyst for change has arrived once more dreams are born out of the sorrow of darkness and as before bare the light hidden within the chamber of the soul three thirty AM and I awake with

shiva

with arms embracing destruction catalyst for change has arrived once more dreams are born out of the sorrow of darkness and as before bare the light hidden within the chamber of the soul three thirty AM and I awake with

enter the mind

this darkness you are blind to unfolds invisible folds around you in the cloak the daggers stowed do you see the shadow cast beneath your own two feet? it is something I have grown to know well to predict and

enter the mind

this darkness you are blind to unfolds invisible folds around you in the cloak the daggers stowed do you see the shadow cast beneath your own two feet? it is something I have grown to know well to predict and

faith in fades

like Spring on the marsh your thought dances across the tendrils and fibers sprouting from my tender skin with plummeting earnestness you seize the breath I have yet to sing for the night in which we intertwine ourselves amongst memories

faith in fades

like Spring on the marsh your thought dances across the tendrils and fibers sprouting from my tender skin with plummeting earnestness you seize the breath I have yet to sing for the night in which we intertwine ourselves amongst memories

False Comfort

These streets once had a name and a thousand words to say voids make placeholders of the empty shells whose memories were laid waste and these vague tombstones mark the graves of the forgotten remains while the man with the

False Comfort

These streets once had a name and a thousand words to say voids make placeholders of the empty shells whose memories were laid waste and these vague tombstones mark the graves of the forgotten remains while the man with the