Share and thank you 

She sits and stares into the eye of greed door, she speaks.” 

To all of you that took the time to read this poem. Thank tou for helping to make this a success. I was lot expecting this news but within the u.s and internationally it was a success. 

I’m humbled and grateful, so many relate to this poem. The mother I wrote this for, cried and thanked me for expressing her story. 

This is because of you and I’m so thankful. There’s was so much put into this, emotionally moving for me to see her losses and tears and her struggle for gains. 




Greed and war

This is the poem “greed and war” first of 8 in the series “voices on skin” hope anyone able to read this enjoys it. An intimate look into the lives of 3 people struggling under a falling economy.  There’s a few ways to get to this poem.

Or just through “spillwords. com” thank you to anyone who takes the time to read through this. If you’re reading this from a phone, over to the left is the word,  hush. 



    “Here, a ray from the sun, his cape.”


 Conversations sullen,

afflicted by sorrow,

lured in by madness,

rhythms of deepening tones. 

Beneath his feet the earth groans. 


beyond figures of stone, 

the tree bows to greet him, flowers offer fragrances of peace. 

The sun offers from its ray, a cape, 


he is a super hero, 

he plays, 

melodies awaken nature, birds sway to lyrical pulses, and offer choruses the world cannot hear.  


So many of you have been and continue to be so encouraging, inspiring and supportive that I wanted to share this. 

I just found out, the series I’m working on called “voices on skin” will be given a featured spot. The first poem “greed and war” will be published on 7/18, I will share with you all when this is published. The whole series is about my hometown(Connecticut’s)failing economy and a look into the lives of those deeply affected. 

All of this began on a slab of rock about 3 years ago. The rock in this very picture. I promised myself, I wouldn’t quit this time, I haven’t looked back since..

Thank you all again!! 

Close your eyes for me

“Close your eyes for me. Close your ears for me, says the soul, I lay unexplored. You will not find me within staled walls.”  

  There’s a story here, close your eyes for me,


Beyond staled structures, roads uncharted. Lay reflections of a soul unexplored. 

There’s a tale here, close your ears for me, 


Narratives yet to be. Not published within books or phones. 

Heard, within aged branches breaking beneath the sole, sweet aromas and fables never told. 

Close your eyes, 

Close your ears,

                          says the soul, 

I lay within vastness, alienated and unexplored. 

I thirst, for bewilderment and awe.

I’m dying, and slumbered, for I have been to long unexplored. Narrations stilled from staled walls. 

In memory 

The poet, christened by the raven at birth, a shadow entangled throughout his youth. Hands whither, the eye of the poet ever upon the shadow, as the raven draws nigh.”


I don’t normally do this but every now and then a patient comes along that touches you. 

I had written “the poet” to, for, and about one of my patients that passed away tonight. 

He would sit and recite “the raven” to me, right at the end his would fill with tears. 

I gave him a copy of the poet and read it to him. I read to him tonight, one last time before he passed away. 

We would sit and talk of poets and poetry. He wrote several poems and shared many of them with me. I will hold onto to those moments as he did. 

I was able to say goodbye to him and for that, I’m grateful. 

To Ed, may you rest in peace. Here’s “the poet” for you, one last time my friend..

Eagle at half staff

  “The eagle flys, half staff, weighed down by the sorrows of a beloveded country.”   
  We have a politically correct problem, we know longer speak. 

We have self proclaimed pastors, forming neon gods, after their own darkened imaginations,merchandising the gospel for profit. Turning many away for we have a god we no longer recognize. 

We have an establishment problem, birthed in greed, gluttony and narcissistic vanities, driving many into hopelessness and poverty. 

We have a stagnet wage problem, work injustices, so the well clothed can have pockets full of noise. 

We have a, life matters problem, the fact that we even have to speak against corrupt entitlements, social injustices on the streets and places of labor, should be alarming enough. We are numb and no one dare speak and disrupt this.

We have a children problem, brought up in despair, hopeless, unnurtured, absent parents and they, amercias children are being weighed down by consequences of choices, unjust dues upon small shoulders, a weight to big for you and I, they will carry throughout their lives. 

We have amercicans falling into despair of life. Weary from their own staled hearts. Silenced by entitelists, bring the fruit social injustices. 

Dawn and night tearful of what is witnessed. 

The eagle flys half staff weighed down by amercias sorrows. 

I am your poetry 

I am your poetry, hidden within rhymes and riddles. 

I am your poem, hidden within a breeze, verses of unsung melodies.

I am your poetry, rhythms hidden within the heavenlies. 

I am your poem, hidden within echoes of maddening rains. 

I am your poetry hidden within a storm to stir your slumbered soul. 

I am your poem hidden within pens ink. 

I am your poetry, what you try to write away. 

I am that poem that won’t go away, for I am you, you, unexplored, unspoken and hidden and of you, you will always write, 

                             for you are,