Great stories are supposed to begin with a hook. A single line of such magnitude that the reader of this tale can do nothing other than continue to read. Despite that fact, I often find the beauty of some stories cannot be conveyed in one sentence. A short complication of words to sum up so many twisted paths. I do believe this impossibility is the death of many tales most worthy of the telling.


Haunted edifice,
Ghosts heard singing.
Gruesome eloquence,
From ropes still swinging.

Bewitched passages,
Beasts and savages.
Calls us deeper,
Death’s own reaper.

Ominous figure,
Beauty flickers.
Eyes of menace,
Venom’s premise.

Fuck routine,
Let’s get obscene.
Wake the wolverine,
Happy Halloween.


They promised us a holy war,
They promised us a fight.
They promised us we’d die in battle,
Why couldn’t they have been right.

Gifted with no parachute,
We’ll continue our commute.
Fear of being destitute,
A suit for the resolute.

Shattered glass,
The lot’s been cast.
How that chill,
Can slowly kill.

The forest calls,
To gods and dolls.
Backwoods trail,
The voices pale.

Brings imagination.
Fixation on frustration,
A foundation of damnation.

Where it ends,
All depends,
Where it began,
Determines the man.

A beautiful start,
Sets you apart.
Our broken beginnings,
Promises our endings.

Gypsy Heart

Hot coffee, dark wit.
A little luck, a lot of grit.
A land untamed,
Freedom regained.

A gypsy heart,
Fine place to start.
Let’s run away,
Paraguay or San Jose.

Mud bearded pooch,
Swig of that hooch.
His gypsy heart,
hits its mark.

Coffee and wit,
The fire is lit.
It won’t take much,
A simple touch.

To start that truck,
Kiss lady luck.
Turn the page,
And leave the cage.