Black and blue words
on a crumpled page
are rolled tight in a fist
and tossed aside.

Smothered phrases
unable to utter their meaning
sputter and gag as an agitated mind
quickly leaps from one unconnected passionate thought
to another.

Ink rolls smoothly
off the tip of a glib ball point pen,
sassy pink veneer self assured
and cocky.

But the streaky symbols
don’t stand a chance against lightening fast hands;
quick to judge and dispose impressions
before seeing becomes believing
and what is written
might be read as the truth.


You’re going left
I’m going right
We both want the same
Yet we struggle and fight

The storm clouds brew
They swirl and spin
Meaning is lost
The tension begins

The sweetness, the romance
Gone in a flash
Hands draw into fists
Teeth clench and gnash

You make your point
I strive to make mine
The atmosphere charged
We need intervention: divine

Ears that won’t listen
They can’t seem to hear
All progress lost
Replaced by tears

I thought I understood
I now know I was wrong
Peaceful resolution
Is for what I long

I was so excited
I thought we were in this together
I didn’t anticipate
Communication stormy weather