The Hanging Garden

In a land far away in both distance and time,

A young architect drew up a project sublime

For the woman he loved who would wistfully sigh

When recalling her home and the garden outside.


“In my hand is a plan for a tower so grand

That it shall be the greatest in all of the land.

The exotic and verdant will spill from the stone

And with flowers more gorgeous than she’s ever known.”


With the laborers gathered the work was begun,

The young architect toiling until it was done.

Not a person could tell what the construct was for

They all pondered the meaning of so many floors.


Yet the woman he loved was amazed in delight

As the green of the garden hung high in the sky.

The expression she wore was like nothing he’d seen,

She had wide open eyes and a grin so serene.


And he thought to himself that when it is complete

“There would surely be nothing in life that’s as sweet.”

So the young man returned to the labor once more.

For the sake of the smile of the one he adored.


Then as years came and went the young man had grown old

But the feelings he harbored had not yet gone cold.

So he sought out the woman to give her this wish

That he spent all his life wrapping up like a gift.


The old man found her grave upon asking around,

So ornate and resplendent with flowers from town

Upon placing a rose on the grave of the queen

He returned satisfied to the garden unseen


For the queen of the kingdom could never have been

Any more than a distant, untouchable dream.

As he looked from the top of his tower above

He could now perhaps be with the woman he loved.

Idyll Of Trees

The verdant umbrella flaked in golden light

A tree I’ve embraced to shelter me through spring

As the rains soaked me through until I was rain too.

So much hope in this tree which would bear much fruit


The summer of stars marred by sleepless nights

A disparate desperation in the separation

As my health slumped against the bark-hewn trunk

Hope buckled under my weight against the root


The bones like lightning scattering through sky

A chill of leaf-laden whispers surging into screams

As autumn coughed in my nose, mouth, and ears

My tree leaned in the breeze and crushed me.


The woodcutter returned and pushed me aside

A crashing of all that I knew splintering amok

As he swung his ax like the fury of winter

The woodcutter separated me from my identity.


Together a fire was made to heal my bitterness

From the remains of a tree that I believed could save.

I see now a dead tree gives no life until killed.

Covered in bruises and ashes I was at peace.

Half Rhyme

There’s a hole in my heart that I’ve tried to fill up

And I found a few shapes that I thought would be good

But no matter how hard I could force them in place

I could see it’s no good and start over again.


It’s like missing a note in a dissonant chord

I was searching for something to make me feel whole.

When I met you I didn’t want to make that mistake

But you taught me a secret that I have to face.


I think you and I, we’re like half-rhymes

Others say we’re wrong but I think we sound right.

And that’s why we’re like half-rhymes

We may not be perfect but I think we sound fine.


That if I were a puzzle then you were the piece.

But the truth was that you weren’t perfect for me.

Yet to look for perfection is foolish indeed.

I won’t burden a person to make me complete.


And I think you and I, we’re like half-rhymes

It may not be easy but it is worth the fight.

And that’s why we’re like half-rhymes

We may not be polished but who says we can’t shine?


You and are just in time

The rhythm and the beat tell me that we are alright.

I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.

It may not sound perfect but we can still rhyme.


Ode to Ontology

Weaved into warfare is worship of weaponry

Wherein the warriors wielding their wickedness,

Wreathed in a ruthlessness, rife with a wretchedness,

Reach for the route that can rewrite their reckoning.


Personal patience is painfully primitive.

Patriots pray for the pressure to pass them by.

Typical teachers with tenure will testify

Time will soon tell, but it’s timelessly tentative.


Molding to meekness, the marvelous mystery,

Marked by the man who is master of mattering.

Holding to hazardous humors of happening,

Heavenly habits are hidden in history.




A Fool’s Parabola

A foolish man once said
That English lacked the words
To represent his thoughts
Since he had felt unheard.

He tried out other tongues
That hail from distant lands.
He even tried the ones,
That only speak with hands.

“I can’t communicate!”
He barked and gnashed his teeth,
“Why can’t they understand?”
He stamped and stomped his feet.


The foolish man denied
Advice from everyone
Who told him it’s not hard.
That he had just begun.

“Frustration is a part
Of learning to convey
With greater confidence
The love you want to say.”

“And starting very small
With acts instead of sounds
Could teach you all the words
That you have not yet found.”


The foolish man could tell
That this perhaps was right;
However, foolish men
Adore a foolish fight.

“You speak to me like that
Expecting me to nod?
Do you know anything
About the path I’ve trod?”

“The effort I put in,
It never seems to heal
The solitariness
And loneliness I feel!”


For reasons he could not
Quite fully comprehend
It felt as if his scars
Might have a chance to mend.

While seeking language out
To speak on his behalf
He never spoke his mind.
He realized and laughed,

“So all I had to do
Was say what’s in my heart?
I’m awkward at it still
But this is just the start!”




Gravity in a Minute

Self-important mating call to self-indulgent free fall

Dead eyes searching screens to fill them up with dead awe.

Undefined orbits looping in and out of space,

But it’s hard to keep track once it’s gone without a trace.

Searchin’ for a church which can save me from depravity.

The places that I saw were devoid of any gravity.


It’s like yesterday won’t tell me how tomorrow’s gonna go

So I try to keep it low key with a decrescendo.

If I run the simulation to behave how I please,

If I amplify the fighters who defy academies,

If only we can hear it, they can mock our lack of sanity,

My sight is 2020 zoomin’ in on all the vanity.


Our immaculate attraction in the middle of inaction

Got my whole mind goin’ like a chemical reaction.

The whirling and twirling like a record on repeat.

The funneling of space-time piercing through the sheet.

Invisible and liminal, it’s messing with the half of me

That wants to be a player in the comedy and tragedy.


Take a chance and rise above to do what you can do

To influence the messages that end up coming through.

Notice that your focus won’t be on the hocus-pocus

When you take a deep breath and dash along the surface

Think of all the busyness and mark it down as silliness

Don’t be so afraid ’cause we’re one among the billions.




Who cares about the distance if I focus on the mass

Who can tell my future if I let go of my past?

There’s direction in the universe to try and unify,

So throw away the separation, try to simplify.

Because what can I say if it isn’t gonna pull on me.

Because what does it weigh if it don’t got any gravity.