Rags and Riches



When a song is your own trembling voice

and your tears are strings on a violin

played in a darkened room...

When a promise is a dream

and the promise is shelter.

Drinking life’s wonders by the glass

and sleeping like the dead...

When all is left are memories,

memories of illusion 

and a concrete block 

tied to your feet

with the past

sinking towards the bottom.

Just Yet


Her tiny apartment is dark and foreboding

even on the sunniest of days.....

  Dishes snuggle in the sink

  like a litter of kittens

  and the trash is overflowing.

The smell of death permeates the air

although she is not dead just yet.

  The noise from Wilshire plays

  a melody through her open windows

  and reminds her she is not alone just yet.

"What time is it?" she weakly asks.

"4:30 in the afternoon."

  "I should get up."

She rises from the tousled bed like a cripple,

weaving her way through the assorted mess on the floor

and shuffles to the unlit bathroom.

  I hear her sickness splashing in the sink

  and realize the hunger has not ceased.

"I can't do this right now" she says,

muffled by the solid wooden door.

  I tell her I understand........

  but I don't.

I wash the dishes, bag up the trash

and leave a twenty on the table as I head for the door.

  A tear cuts a path down my cheek

  as I descend the stairway

  but I haven't given up on her just yet.........


Uno Momento Por Favor


60 seconds and a dirty look

is all you gave me,

a moment in time

and a toothbrush

floats innocently

in the toilet bowl...

Laughter from a

nearby room only

deflates my ego


and the strong winds

from the north chill

my bones now colder

than your heart.

I crawl inside myself

and look for you

but you are well

hidden beneath

the lies and deception,

as always a hidden agenda

you fail to disclose.

I'll retrieve my toothbrush

and feverishly brush,

tasting the filth and the

60 seconds of silence........



 Sporting lustful eyes like a cheap suit,

adoration and undue respect rain

upon the usual suspects.

Perhaps rubbing elbows

with the rich and famous

will somehow transfer the

same fortune to you much

like a communicable disease....

They will retire to their secluded

and heavily guarded mansions

while you spend the evening

dining on peanut butter sandwiches

in your cramped, low rent dive.

But your eyes have witnessed

the glamour........

the glamour that shoves its

fist down your throat.

The glamour that is drier

than the peanut butter

sandwich you're choking on.........

Plastic Existence


 You called me arrogant,

this coming from a woman

with an ego bigger than

the city of Los Angeles itself,

playing men to pay your rent,

your car payment and all

of those expensive shoes.....

You flaunt your "riches" and

tell everybody that your acting

jobs are paying for all of it.


Last weekend when you

were "on location" in New York,

strangely I witnessed you at your

usual club in Hollywood shaking your ass

to the music with all of the other "actors",

"producers" and "models" who live

the same plastic existence as you.....


If I am indeed arrogant,

it is a result of high self esteem

fueled by moderate success......

your arrogance and confidence

is a lie supported by lonely or

cheating men with money to burn.

You have the masses fooled

but not me because I actually know you.

Your acting skills are perfectly polished

but would serve you better in front of the camera.......

Angel Hair Pasta


I think I found her...

playing piano at a small Italian cafe

across the street.

   She plays with a blank stare

   and a halo surrounds her hair.

She plays of the past

and of a distant place,

knowing there is no future for her...

or any of us.

    Only when she hits the low notes

     does a tear appear in the corner

     of her eye.

She just keeps on playing

the soft and gentle tune

to accompany the patrons

as they enjoy their pasta

and wine.

      A stranger places a ten dollar bill

      in her jar atop the piano

      and requests a tune.

This is one she knows very well.

Her fingers pronounce every note.

      And as the vibrant noise

      of the restaurant slowly

      overtakes the melody,

      the tear that had formed

      in the corner of her eye

      streams down her face

      and drips from her chin.......