There’s no bottom to the city treeless empty lots broken stone trash and puddles where buildings were planned to reach the moon and stars sidewalk people swim upstream in both directions without order searching for a place sirens help or prevent subways rattle breathing heavy stoic faces anxious hands
Removing the coat of protection the curtain once important breaking away from the person within where the dust of youth is a repeating song while pushing out the voices of ghosts and shadows
Be the road long and unending with steps repeating like a drum releasing a beat while stepping through a curtain of promises to the other side where removing and separating is no longer blurred like underwater images we try to forget surfacing a little less broken
she holds close the pain careful not to break it like a hunger she feeds it in morning speaking to it at night grieving flows within watering the splinters of thoughts embedded in memories helping her is not easy when the voices attack me I know she’s still alive inside when … More THE VOICES
Yesterday’s pain looks up from underwater gasping for air from the previous day black cats walk soft before the wall where the courageous the weak and those without voice stand somewhere there’s a recovery net to catch the hopeless before striking the ground a wide generous surface providing the first step forward … More A GOOD PLAN
A forceful rain releases words from the broken parts of life lifted up against the weight of gravity, into passing clouds as the letters drift down they reform into the openness of sacrifices and shame revealing an empty shell once complete but still beautiful.
There’s clouds I spoke to, yelled at cried under and stars I confessed the worst of me bouncing prayers off the space between and under moons where useless silver threads failed to drown out the blood of my sins as my eyes suffered sight to see a way through to the … More FINALLY
From the fires comes the soil of independence a revolution of being disconnected resisting the effort to conform just to exist while the street calls for a voice and the paper for a pen desire hopes for the stars to align, discovering the balance under a full moon
A wedge or orange waits for morning fingers a black cat at the screen door; a pinch of salt over the shoulder same radio songs weather changes clouds always appear last patch of snow in the shaded corner of the shed a few buds up high on trees thrive where sunlight … More WINTER FADES
The noise of previous shame arises without notice without explanation without a name it’s the bell that cannot be unrung the water that pushes us uphill it compresses the heart with uncertain destiny releasing to the surface the dog days of every season it takes great energy to suppress and smooth the … More WHY ME
Roger Singer 