Lucid Dream

Lucid dream, I dream you not. I do not sip from the cup of sleep, it taunts me with sights of overflowing wealth. And yet nary a coin has fallen from that blessed heap and rolled by divine chance to clatter at my feet. Would I pick it up? Would I even see it? Or would I instead look over it through eyes glazed by misunderstanding of the moment.

I sleep, I nap, and my mind is tickled awake by fancies of a thought. They tantalize me awake with dreams of speeding fingers. Music to my ears, the chatter of my keyboard is to me. I push their poor souls down and squash their lettered heads into my meaning. The meaning of the moment.


A Nod to Poe

How sweet is the tender touch as I caress your every limb.

Our lips meet and thoughts collide on each and every sin.

Even as I take you into my warm embrace.

I smother the image by destroying your very grace.

Transforming now our reality to fantasy.

Pain brings the passion to ecstasy.

You shudder, I feel you tremor to your bones.

A sweet sensation adding to the quiet undertones.

Softly now, gently I lay you down.

I board you up inside with the golden crown.

And there dies the buried light.

Another name, another dove takes flight.



I watch a flame die to understand death. Upon lighting the candle again, I begin to understand god. I follow a tear drop till it kills itself and then retrace our steps to see what could have been done. A moment of sadness for a lifetime of understanding, but was it worth it?



The Light

You cannot see the light, as it fades into the night. It tantalizes your sight and urges pursuit. Where do the lights go when humanity’s cruelty has dimmed the voice of reason that we seek… that we need. We shatter illusions by caring and in that compassionate act, we often times give birth to fury. For care, passion, and fury are made up of emotion and the commonality is the connection to that which we decide to fight for in life. We fight for things that are right, even when those that do wrong hold their hands up in supplication… or ignorance. Dare we allow the guilty of society to slip silently into the night? Or do we instead chase down those demons with our own light, the light that man carries when they truly care.

-Opinionated Man


Warmth I feel you now. You comfort me in your blanket of awareness. We become a pyre of love as we burn like incense in the night. I feel your heart pressing against my soul as our dreams joust for space above us in the clouds. Race tracks in the sky share our story with those that look to the heavens. We cover humanity with our love.

For my wife.


To Pen a Thought

To pen a thought is a daily quest. I search for the perfect sentence in the abyss of my mind, it elludes me like a jellyfish in the night. I feel like I am constantly battling my mind. Not for control, but rather for focus on the task at hand. Attention disorders, a mixed blessing, we shower under a continuous torrent of thoughts. How easily they slip between our fingers as we eagerly grasp at straws.

The greatest accomplishment a writer can feel is bottling a thought before it vanishes. How many times do we stare into the night chasing our words like smoke into the sky? We would weep from the effort except for the need to save the life of the precious parchment beneath our hand. So instead we sentence that piece of paper to a life of second class. To bear and hold an imperfect thought in replacement of the one we lost. The one we will miss forever.

-Opinionated Man