The Cartoon Diaries is a collection of poetry revolved around feeling out of place, what feels surreal, feeling misplaced in this current world, the anxieties, the everyday feels like nonsense. the Armageddons you imagine, the creativity you imagine doesn’t quite match the current societal ideals. This is the poetry that represents this time for me.
We speak as if death, as a reflection of shade As we navigate in the circles of sunlight As miracles of breath Miracles of Mother Nature The trees of a Monet painting Have become real We become bearers of our sins To discuss, to confess Confessions to the caverns of bark Eaten away at, We lay in the comfort of cold ground and confess To the lace ripped from the corner of an orange moon The days of strange By the riverfronts Watching little devils form in the ripples of water We met each other As soldiers of war Soldiers of mental scarring We met each other From dust to blood Battle-wound confessions Blood of the dawn Paints the tears to my skin One with my pores
Can you feel the burning? All the reflexes in a burning
Tremor Confessions When we whisper lies to celebrate infamous moments Celebration of ego In radical boredom The moments we walked on the bridges of bone To climb the highest mountain to touch the hands of God Superiority complex, confess That you are lost in a possession of spirit The caverns of bark, to climb through And let the animals, tunnel through Nibbling at the periderm Confess more Were you satisfied with the awakening of madness? As it spread, fires across lakes of thought Confess to the artist that sketches into your brain Confess to the colors that swirl in your mind Greens, browns, grays What shall the Rhytidome be? When confessing to the caverns of bark In a blending of Monet’s Trees
This is the complete unpublished now “The Cartoon Diaries” (only available on kindle now) and a few best of “Taking Pictures in the Dark” & “Our Fears in Tunnels” poems also available in the huge collection Bending Rivers.
“His Last Poetic Whispers” is available on paperback & kindle.
From a nest of crows lay a red robin That we saw develop from an amber to a passion. A spirit animal that flies free from the misery Swimming in the sky vertically From backwards to frontwards, Curving with ease
In the sunsets of Purple and Pink From Ice Blue to the Orange Papaya whip Swiftly, wings threading the needle of the seas Marveling in Springtime heavens Only to depress in your cup nest covered by January frost.
Bind your ribbons to an ironclad bend resting your tarsus in the blanket of snow, and dream with your culmen, Drinking in the rewards of the March air, only shades are left to conquer.