Who are you?
Driven by musical and literary pursuits alike, I was drawn to poetry as a means of freedom and communication.

Love, as Seen in a 1920s Setting

“Love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds–”

Come twilight, I began to wearily ponder,
Shall I leave, or stay tire-mongered?
My feet restlessly raise my body higher;
Eyes expecting a mast of finely dressed squires,
Whom withhold none of my immediate desires.
Across the way, someone challenging my want to retire.

She flaunts eloquence through her saunter,
Sat from afar, I study her: a divine grace-flaunter.
Not a single living soul to accompany,
Other than the saxophone’s supple harmony,
And the occasional soothing piano key.

A dimly-lit room submerged in guests,
Though, she alone is the cause of numerous rubbernecks.
Her beauty elevated by “Twilight…And Beyond”,
As her lips part slightly to request a glass of Perginon.

An orange glow sways upon her face–
A product of a neighboring fireplace.
She offers her her hands enclosed in pure white gloves,
In exchange for warmth of the inferno’s indirect touch.

She’s heaven on earth, but it’s a hell of a night,
A bit of thrill, a bit of fright.
My feet instinctively guide my unfeeling mind;
I deem myself crazed–nothing like my kind.

“Madam, I find myself entranced by an ecstasy,
Surely whom must have slipped past me,
As I have been searching for that perfume, so sweet.
Pity me, miss, I take it as you are she?”

Pink finds it’s rightful place on her supple cheeks:
A result of my precisely folded handkerchief,
And my slipping off her glove to show chivalry,
Allowing me to introduce myself through a kiss delivery.

Could my eyes be deceiving me?
Upon her fourth finger, what is this I see?
A series of diamonds resting on a silver band,
Causing me to drop her newlywed left hand.
“Dear me, madam, I hadn’t known you were married!”
“Oh, that’s just extra weight I’ve carried,
I can slip it off and we can leave this secret buried?”

I tried to conclude how an item as pure as snow,
Could mask the one thing I would never like to know.
Like a pulled plug, affection drained out of me,
The moment that vile rolled off the tongue of she.

Loyalty–a relationship fundamental:
Something she so obviously lacked in her mantle.
Never would I wed without the knack to be loyal,
And I told her so, leaving her in embarrassing turmoil.

“Love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds–”


It is I Who Wears Jewelry

Why, is my love for you not my greatest form of wealth?
Surely it’s worth more than a man’s jewel-flanked bank,
Where the foolish leave their rags as a form of pay.
He lavishes in the poor’s disadvantage, you see,
But do not fret, my sweet–
He will always relish people like me,
For my joy is one thing his flimsy paper cannot inherit.
Now, watch as he sleeps on his lone, silk sheets,
A glimpse at the other side of the battlefield–
My side.
Oh, you naïve, misery-pang man,
Your dolled up niche is transparent to me.
Peering into the black of your eyes, I was able to see,
You weren’t taught that love can’t be granted with a fee.


Love Realities

Lest the sun depart from the glistening stars,
And the shells grate from the unsettled sand;
Until the ripples depart, releasing from the water afar,
And bone marrow be ripped from the frame of my hand,
I shall abide without your touch of my desire,
Penetrating my desperate heart, deeming it as firebrand.

“Nous existons tous en harmonie,”
Even so, my love, enlighten me, I implore,
Why should the sand be allowed to mingle with the sea,
Or the clouds rest in the arms of the sky forevermore;
Why, my beloved, shall the tree nourish the leaves,
As I remain lonesome–an object of your bore?


Get paid.