Teal & Neon Cut DB
Put it down, take it away, put it down, take it away, put it down.

American Male

Born into expectation, a surreal charade,
The sum of their parts, a masquerade played.

Deep as a sheen, a veneer that deceives,
B’s of all sizes, D’s of all varieties, life’s odd leaves.

Lost till found, a pursuit laced with pain,
Striving for solace, but often in vain.

Dancing in the sun, embracing the light,
Yet hurting till done, a perpetual fight.

In the twilight of struggle, we seek to reveal,
The essence of life, the emotions we feel.

A dance of shadows, a whirlwind of hues,
Unveiling the truth, in this human muse.

When America Gave A Fuck

From Here To There (a)

From the rusted streets of Southwest Michigan, he fled.

Where many struggles and challenges left him feeling quite dead.

With hope in his heart and dreams in his mind.

To Portland, Oregon, he ventured, a new world to find.

The city did not welcome him with open arms and a smile.

But he persevered, determined to stay and make it worthwhile.

The air was crisp, and the food was divine.

He found solace in nature, and that made him feel fine.

For he saw the beauty in the city, amidst the chaos and strife.

In the people he met, and the challenges he faced in his life.

The city may not have been perfect, but it was his home.

A place where he could live and love, free to roam.

The struggles of Michigan and the problems of Portland.

He faced head-on, with resilience and determination at hand.

For he knew that in life, there are no perfect places.

But there is beauty in imperfection, in all its varied faces.

And so he embraced his new life with open arms.

With hope in his heart, and a sense of calm, He found a new community, a new sense of belonging.

In Portland, Oregon, where he felt like he was thriving.


From Here To There (b)

From a rusted Midwest, He journeyed west to find peace, In Portland’s wet embrace.

The city wasn’t perfect, But it welcomed him with grit, And offered him solace.

Amidst the chaos, He found beauty in the strife, And a new sense of self.

The air was clean and pure, And the food a work of art, A symphony of tastes.

In Portland, he thrived, A new community found, New life, new purpose.


Peaches For Me

In the wilderness, by the water’s edge.

I savored a peach, so ripe and intense.

The sun was ablaze, the air sultry and warm.

And the water shimmered with a seductive charm.

The peach was soft, so fragrant and lush.

Its nectar running like a secret hush.

I tasted it, and its juice spilled like fire.

A tantalizing flush of desire.

The surrounding wilderness was alive and deep.

With the sound of water, a hypnotic sleep.

The trees towered, the sky a rich hue.

Nature’s majesty, an enigma, so true.

The peach was a symbol of life’s sweet magic.

A sensuous delight, so mystic and tragic.

As I ate it by the water’s side.

I felt its secrets, a universe to confide.

For at this moment, in this wilderness so vast.

I was a part of a mystery that would last.

I was connected to the earth, to its rhythm, so slow.

And the peach was a gift, a secret to know.

To know that life is a journey, a secret untold.

To savor each moment, to cherish and behold.

And as I finished the peach, by the water’s edge.

I felt enraptured, enticed, and entranced.