Poetry

I’m a writer. I’m a fighter. I’m a weight lifter. I’m a crate shifter.  I am a man.  A man who can.  A man who cares.  A man who bares.  I’m not done.  I’ve only begun.  Read more

Sunday, Sunday, just before Monday. Its slow its calm – just before the storm. And why oh why does it feel so warm? When the sun don’t shine on this rainy day. Sunday Sunday, just another day. Why does it feel like we’re in a daze? I got mash and meat running down my face. Read more