
A local indy
jazz band,
The Monsters,
has opened
a nightclub
in my basement.
Patrons
groove
to their cool
rhythms
and riffs
until wee
early-morning
hours
despite
my tireless
pleas
to take
their tunes
to more
neighborly
venues.

A local indy
jazz band,
The Monsters,
has opened
a nightclub
in my basement.
Patrons
groove
to their cool
rhythms
and riffs
until wee
early-morning
hours
despite
my tireless
pleas
to take
their tunes
to more
neighborly
venues.
After beingseveral weekssecludedsilentunseen and Now frettingoverifanyonenoticedmy absence
Picture this: dunes, boy, unquenched thirst.Eyes blur; distant waters tease tongue.Wind whispers secrets; sand shifts beneath.Vulture’s shadow crosses death’s scorched stretch.Airy cry calls “turn around, child.”Footprints merge, sand swallows; path unclaimed.
For reasons I still find amusing, the top Google search phrases leading people to TheOtherKLM.com is “ethereal poetry.”
“Ever thought about getting a tattoo?” “Fads fade, tastes change, regrets linger.” “Forget fads; choose art that’s timeless.” “Art’s subjective. Beauty varies widely.” “Like a secret only you know?” “Exactly. Discretely veiled, singularly mine.” The Six Squared Poem A recent goal of mine has been to participate more in the daily prompts and attempt to…
I used to believe America was big enough to equip neighbors of diverging dreams the balanced freedoms to design their own destinies
“Why So Angry?” takes you from the heart’s turmoil, stirred by whispers of the world, to the gentle warmth of the sun’s embrace. This poem challenges readers to reflect on anger’s roots and embrace the peace waiting beyond the tempest.