Use with caution,

You could rupture,

The sky,


Your house,

Or put,

An eye out.

The handle is too short,

And it looks a tad tacky,

It’s head is made of lead,

And Loki,

Keeps scheming,

To steal it away.


Credit where credit is due,

It works wonders,

Holds great power,

And can still be seen,


It still rings true,

They don’t make them,

Like they used to.

Sisyphus Within us


The two sides of a raindrop are agression and adoration,

Dropped by a drizzle of infinite duration,

A single simple, scattered smattering of splattered saturation,

All that we feel is subject to sudden migration.

These tides of emotional position; disposition,

Of inhibition and ambition,

Of intuition and exposition,

Of ignition and intermission,

Are constantly in a state of transition; transmission.

Why push the river? Its flow is beyond control,

To worry about its current makes a mountain of a mole-knole,

Which we then stagger to the summit of- beating back a boulder,

Which hits it’s goal, slips from control and rolls.

This is our ancient toll– our precursor’s curse,

An insatiable thirst for a whole soul.