What Do I say to my niece?


A Loss In Words

What do I say to my niece?
This endless violence won’t cease.
My only hope that it will decrease
Before I am deceased.
At night I’m supposed to sleep
But I can only weep
Over the lives that could not keep
The souls that death chose to reap
Do I tell her that this all about race
That the color of face
Determines her place
In society’s good grace.
No tv tells me that’s not true
This violence can happen to me or you
Yet the only deaths in my view
Leave a distinctly colored residue
I don’t want another excuse!
It’s past time to introduce
The definitive way to reduce
This pattern of abuse.
You want help? I’ll be the first to volunteer
Just don’t be insincere
Or even worse, disappear
From our quest due to fear.
It’s gonna take all of us to make this change
Though at first it may be strange
Great ideas we will exchange
Monumental plans we will arrange.
We will succeed because our goals are right
And it all won’t happen overnight
But you tend to have to fight
To remove a society’s blight.
Every night I dream of this peace
For the bloody news to cease
Giving me an increase
In good news for my niece.


Stop Watching


Over the past week, everyone’s given their opinion about Caitlin Jenner. I’ve heard every opinion under the sun, from informed to ignorant and everything in between. I’m willing to listen to any take on it, but there’s one viewpoint that kept coming up:

Why is this the top news story over everything else? The answer is simple. Keeping up with the Kardashians has an average of a million viewers at its height. A news outlet would miss a huge opportunity for ratings by not talking about Caitlin. Our news, movies and tv are all a product of what we watch and respond to. Even House of Cards exists from pulling together the most viewed shows on Netflix and putting them together. If you want to affect society, you have to be mindful of what you choose to watch.

Or better yet, take action.

Though a bit of a long intro, it all segues to an older poem of mine. Enjoy :).

The Watchman
To act as a spectator
Or to Look on…
5 days.
I am sitting at the bar
A boy with glasses
And no idea how to flirt
Enters with a calzone and a hope
To attract the skinny girl
Bobbing her head to the music.
It doesn’t work.
Laughter ensues from the bar
Like a chorus of hyenas
Drunk hyenas
Who just can’t stop laughing
4 days.
I’m in a subway train car
With no AC
On an 100 degree day
A man
Who has not bathed
Since Obama was elected
Walks through the tight space
Begging for change.
In this sauna of city slickers slipping silently through the subway
Every hand remains frozen
No change today.
3 days.
A stoop in Brooklyn
Where brown paint cracks
On all the steps
A middle aged Spanish woman
Grips my young self lightly
As a gang of middle school students
Literally tear
Through the streets.
Bashing cars
Like they were piñatas
And their grand prize
Was destruction.
It’ll be another half hour
Before we can even go to the corner store.
2 days.
Smoke billows
In the sky
A neverending stream.
On an old grey couch
Made for 3
A family of five sits
On the day’s events
Rolling on the screen
A constant stream of fear
And Uncertainty
It is 2001
And I don’t believe
There’s anything else
On TV today.
1 day.
We were raised
To Watch
Not to see
When all that is needed
Is a warm word
Or a gentle touch.
Made to stare
But to never move.
Built to look past
Not to look at what’s present.
This world rewards watching
With a smile
And a lighter load on your back.
For you it is a simple life
And free
As a breeze on a spring day.
But I want to become a hurricane
Blowing gusts of change
And bearing loads heavier
Then wind was made to carry.
Because if there are no hurricanes
Then the smoke means nothing
But pain
A little boy stays stuck
On his grandmother’s stoop
A homeless man
Perpetually walks into
An uncaring hell
A boy with glasses
Knows no love
But laughter
And a countdown
Never reaches 0 days
Because 5 days
Was already too late.
The day
I become the hurricane
Is coming
I will embrace the storm
Instead of watching it go by.

The Battles In Between


Recently, I’ve left my job in the pursuit of my passion for the arts. While I’ll talk more about the transition later this week, I can say one thing right away: it’s weird. And I think this goes far beyond leaving your job.

Whether you’re coming off an intense sports season, finishing school or even changing up your work schedule, there’s that feeling like you’re still a part of it all, but also a part of something…entirely different. I believe that the ancient Romans had a word for it: restless. Which so happens to be the name of this poem I wrote. Enjoy.


I fall
The battle is done.
Our side raises a glorious call
We have won.
My breath now back
I look ahead.
We’ve ended the attack
All our foes are dead.
What is life now
Now that their base has been breached?
We’ve owned up to our vow
The goal has been reached.
Do we seek out another fight,
Put ourselves again to the test?
Or would it be right
To finally rest?
How do we find
Peace at last
When in our mind
The war has not yet passed?

Messy Haired Girl


Messy-haired Girl

I’d like to meet a messy-haired girl

Whose character is hidden beneath her curls

She can be a little unsure of herself

And look different from all the barbies on the world’s shelf

It’s a bonus if the messy-haired girl reads for fun

Then we’ll always dine on good conversation

She’d have a radiant mind shining strong and bright

It wouldn’t just be drenched in Twilight

If the messy haired girl also practices an art

Her life is definitely one I’d want to be a part

Tattoos, sports, piercings, don’t care if she has those things

Well, maybe I’d still have to get over mechanical tanning…

Anyway, if your hair so happens to be straight and dyed

But you still have a messy-haired girl inside,

I’d like to meet her right from the start

Because I’m really a messy haired boy at heart.

Have a Lovely Weekend


Happy Friday! So, I hear that some humans on weekends have dates or significant others that they spend some special time with. I invite those people to take a moment for some romantically themed poems. And even if you’re not…well, might as well read them anyway, right? Enjoy 🙂

Those Eyes



Are Pools of Colored Water

Slowly Shifting

Lives and Landscapes

Across their mirrored surfaces…

When I see yours

I remember

That eyes can be oceans

Brimming with beauty and wonder

Across their vast expanses

The sun reflected

Makes those oceans shine


And All I Want to Do

Is Swim.

Hipsters In Love

Our Romance

Is Like So Retro

It’s like this old sweater

From the Thrift Shop

I never knew I wanted

Until it was right there.

I want to make you a mixtape

On my macbook pro

At Starbucks

(Ironically, of course)

I’d love to make us mainstream

But it’s still pretty cool

To have something

That nobody’s heard of yet.

Haikus For You

Telephone Call

I don’t have Enough
Enough time to say I love
Huh? Talk to..too late.


I haven’t written
A joke since the accident.
That won’t change today.


Sat in the window.
Watched you leave my life and heart.
The weather was great.

For Someone Like You

I can’t seem to stop
Writing poems about love…
Ing Pudding. And You.


Today I threw out
The wing of a butterfly
Didn’t Affect Me.

The Poem With No Name

For this Tuesday, I’m doing a little poetry. Enjoy!

It Will Won’t Will Won’t Be Okay

I have reached the end

Of the earth

I have sailed past the world’s wonders

I have finished all of my work.

Here on the edge

There is darkness to an indefinite depth

Heat from a fire fierce and enduring

And a distinct feeling of death.

My body is ready to fail

To tumble into the pit

Scarred and beaten by the journey

It would only take one more hit.

I feel destined to become dust

Carried away by the wind

Free from the world’s weight

Released from all of my sin.

This is a trial

I am not meant to survive

It is an event

That must be faced with no shield or disguise.

With the last of my courage

I plunge into the flames

Everything becomes ash

The time has come for change.

I fall away from this life

Only to rise

Ascending into a new body

Free from pretension or disguise.

Feeling new and powerful

I return once more to earth

My old self discarded

On this date of my second birth.

The life of a phoenix

Is one of glory and pain

It begins with the view of the light above

It ends with the view of nothing below in flame.

As the cycle begins again

I fly across the sea

The world’s wonders return once more

And I begin to feel free.

The past trails behind me

Burning away in a stream of smoke

All that remains of the old life

Filled with the memories, lessons, and words I spoke.

My life could never continue

If my time never came to an end.

My eyes find the ground

I take a deep breath and descend.