Next To The Purple Wood


To the liquor store we went.The lightest of blues and yellows the sky casting its purple hue.The atmosphere mingling all fall colors.With that purple ethereal nostalgia, a road traveled often.I lost my purpose for the trip.Like a soldier forgetting the mission.Dad listened to music about pimps.I did to, it hung in my brain.Next to the image of the purple wood.

Life Does Not Ask


We all exist at some expenseA mothers pain or a fathers heftWithout a question being asked of ourselvesOf weather existence is what we desiredNoLife does not ask and neither does GodYou are woven and crafted a divine poem in sinewBlood pumps through the veins of an earthen shellWhile a light no fleshy eyes see burns brighterThan a campfire laced with magnesiumIt is hard knowingIts hard rowinga life livedpurposeknown

Thank You


Thank you for this failure.It was a ride.I will let my shame fade away with the rising tide. Thank you for this wound.It was a trauma.I will let this scar be a boon a poem on my flesh a happy mantra. Thank you for this insult.It was quite sharp.I will let these words be pulled tight like strings to my harp. Thank you for these shortcomings.They are magnificent.I will let them glow bright with the …

Schrodinger’s Spiritual Mind


Schrodinger’s spiritual mind both alive and dead.A swelling desire to dwell on the eternal.The carnal inspiration of the darker thoughts.loneliness and anger war against the lovely and pure.Staring into a sunrise over mountains while counting my sins and offenses. A swelling din of joy growing at the sight, the sound of the beloved.Into the fog of melancholy nihilism, fatalistic grind, the rut.Rise above I tell myself, breath in the fog its good for the lungs.See …

Abandoned School


I am like this abandoned school I drive by everyday.I echo faintly with the nostalgia of youth.I have a playground but no but me uses it. I oil the merry go round.I test the seesaw.I bat at the deflated tether-ball. I stand vacant surrounded by busy lives.Equal parts Charlie Brown and Calvin and Hobbes.Yet old, not useless just old without being old. At least part of me fits this description.A part that was full of …

Ears To Listen


There is a God, evidencedBy the fact, my son livesHe survived tidal wave of my own wrathBeating me down slowlyMy own patience erodingPersistent waves of adolescence Assailing my own foundation Crash crash crash crash crashThe loud din of a man lostMy own voice crushes you Shame Im sorry I lost my temperIm not sorry for being angry Daddy fallsMay we both have ears to listen


Magnificent – Haiku Aaron Blakeley

People take pictures of everything.Pictures of food, pictures of each otherlandscape, pets, kids, friends, everything.This is good. I stopped taking pictures of everything and started to write poetry. Capture the feeling of loving my child, or my wife, being late to work, or the breeze as it passes through the pines. Even if no one reads it this will still be with me.

A Second Chance at Coffee


One slip, one unfinshed task, one meInsufficent quantum mental nodesOrganic processor ran hot Stuck looping unreasonable expectationsImterstellar contium terminated by “oops”I forgot my laptop Late to work already after Raked over the coals of joyful inadequacyThe seams; can’t you see them they loosen, bust into spaceAnd I am undone in the few miles it takes to go and return.While I am there getting what I forgotI fill my cup again A second chance at coffee.

That is My Clock Work Demon!


Lord Burgahmont! I need to have words with you my gilded lamplighter has gone missing and it seems the one you wield right now is a striking doppelganger. Oh Lord Pelshfuit, it is indeed your gilded lamplighter as I absconded with it one fortnight ago as payment for my bejangled pony saddle you borrowed but never returned to me. How dare you Lord Burgahmont! I removed from your possession that magnificent bejangled pony saddle as …

Scrub Away


Scrub away your identityScrub away your pain No matter what you do you can’t get rid of the Imago Dei Go ahead and yell at himGo tell God he’s wrong Just remember what he says about you while you rage within the throng.