never alone without voice words chase me down while traveling through nameless towns like cats and thieves soft walking through openings in fences where whispers speak and lies wish for the truth never stopping outrunning hunger yet praying for one more heartbeat to see the moon while evening drinks the day dry … More IN THE QUIET
A curious wind turned turned the pages living in residence within me paper thoughts and pictures of me tumbled from within as a familiar history unfolded with faces of laughter and others suffering in pain the binding of truth and fiction is strong forming a web holding the center of the story firm … More MY PAGES
The last blessing the settling of forms the shadows over a life put in order truth hidden in stones deposited slowly into the heart rivers absent of motion become power lost thin paths test the feet of the brave at the end everyone witnesses the valley of their birth.
I felt the water clock hold sentence over me. Dribbling out good, bad, indifference and sincerity. Its pendulum was silent, though refreshing me with reminders like a mirror reflecting the truth. Every experience has weight; the winning, losing, success and luck. We balance them until it tips. The results are unspoken for. … More END AROUND
At the end of the earth there’s a diving board for each of us, where grieving souls and soiled hands search for a higher place; everyone hopes for security. Truth exposes itself in various colors; nighttime is when the fear of alone is invisible. Long stories and dreams about voices no longer present fill … More JUMP IN
There was a final call for last drinks at the Black Cactus Cantina, a place comfortable in the shadows. It was another night of switchblades, leather boots and lies with smiles. Warm desert winds and roaming lizards stir night sands. Women with showy names and men without truth move through the door to outside. … More LAST CALL
A soft shoe slips the floor, pushing aside sawdust and broken promises; the cost of today releases the cash for night. Empty back pockets hold dreams without conviction. Black sunglasses shape the truth. Pearly white smiles spread a net; the hungry listen to anything, full stomachs walk by. Street vendors speak the truth. Its a … More THIS WAY
The clay of inspiration. Hands forming, breathing with chance; the unmaking of one into another. Words fall to the carpet, rolling into waiting ears where discerning and rejection fill the shadows; the song played backwards says nothing. There’s a blush of hate at the mouth of truth and a smile on the eyes of … More THROWING IT TOGETHER
Misplaced thoughts are broken stones. The sides of the road hold treasures for those walking by. Old newspapers separate us from yesterday’s tragedies. Wisdom is born in diners and roadside Cafes. Painted signs on old barns hold the innocence of roadside marketing. Paper hats have character against the sun. Popsicles were once five cents. Longer … More TRUTH
Dawn drops the hammer on the last intersection of day. A star curtain drapes itself over a thin blue canopy. Tasteful air rushes in to become the last act. Stories told grow tall with unnatural lies, encouraging events that didn’t happen until reality calls us out from the bench, waiting to see if we melt … More REALITY STRIKES
Roger Singer 