Cloaks cast away madness.

They suffocate mouths with sweetened candy,

Burden minds with shortened memory,

Gag hands with satiable promiscuity,


Malleable garments of plastic,

Blinding facades prevent action,

Provide warm comfort,

Encourage heedless reaction.


Shelters create hollowed shells,

Insides filled not with an omniscient organ,

Nor an intrinsically branched vein,

But solely a mandated oxygen.


Loathing locks of location,

Bind beings to bed,

Hopeless hearts without help,

Entertain entries to be entities bled.


Blistering cauldrons hoggishly occupied,

Bubbling cells of juvenile display,

Coating pools with soapy film,

Smother bodies with naiveté.

–Kevin J Flors

Thanks for reading. When considering organizational structure of this poem, I really wanted to experiment with traditional poetry while still making it clear that the poem is traditional. This is common with a lot of my recent poetry; that is, providing subtle changes to traditional poetry structure. Whether it is using a strange rhyming structure (Limits to Success)  or having specific stanzas that provide a unique word pattern (like this poem). With that being said, I want to further expand my poetic structures by being experimental beyond traditional or my modernized attempts at recreating the traditional and I plan on doing this in the near future.

Picture from Pexels with a few edits.


The Bravest Beaver

The Bravest Beaver

Trepidation bests the bravest beaver.

The protection it provides is eternally temporal,

Until thought of hubris reigns,

Crafting rains of aquatic torment.



Foliage is painted with cartilage,

From those too wholesome to live.

Young weasels unscathed by fire,

Further starve those in water.



Slamming chords of mischievous instruments,

Cause snared beasts to helplessly cower.

In homes of bloodied limbs and venison,

Transformed by rhythmic toddlers.



Animals trembling from grieving stomachs,

Sharply yawp at their ageless deities.

Blunt pleas are blatantly ignored,

And hearts are sluggishly dried.



Flashes of light display hope,

But sources shine from gluttonous hunters,

Looking for easy prey,

Added to eternally temporal prisons.


–Kevin J Flors


Thanks for reading.

Picture from Pexels


Limits to Success

Limits to Success

Determination gasps for air,

Undeniable pangs of dust,

Exhausting will from the man who made,

Difficult tasks ones of a comforting ire.


Yet ideas fail to flow,

Water stagnant in an abandoned fountain,

Coins from hopeful, desperate mothers,

Snatched from children of stubborn heir.


Breathing voices call from the past,

Haunting regrets never entail expiration,

Wishes for forgiveness to enter their hearts,

Wishes for air so lungs can grow.


Requests of unachievable fortitude,

Gore out the minds of worried men,

Who eternally grow numb to their suffering,

A suffering once selfishly wished to last.


Elder times grow a moldy tedium,

Shared spaces of sublimity,

Eviscerated by raucous flames,

Of envious greed and ineptitude.


Scholars effervescent and outgoing,

Never chained by insurmountable achievement,

Never pressured to be intuitive,

Never tied to a dated medium.


He’s held together by design,

Deflating but never popping,

Squeezing but never bursting,

Hurting but never dying.


Never given a purpose but to be the purpose,

The reason for other’s success,

And the proprietor of  their failures,

All motives forced to resign.


Extinguished ash in a wildfire,

Whilst embers around him never cease to crisp,

But sure to inevitably fail,

Blazing just enough to erase a carcass.


–Kevin J Flors


Thanks for reading. I wanted to express the issues some inventors may have gone through or are going through. Being an inventor is really a thankless job, unless you are one of the big names like Edison. But the inventor of everyday objects that we use today go unappreciated even sometimes in death. For example, I could not attempt to guess the inventor of everything in my bag, or the bag itself. And this has to do a lot with branding. Sure I have a Dell laptop, but unanswered questions like, “Who first invented the laptop?” are unknown and most times neglected (The inventor of the first laptop is Adam Osborne). I also wanted to express some pressures artists or more well-known celebrities have to constantly create fresh and relevant content (that also has to be entertaining). Few celebrities achieve this, and those that fail drown in irrelevancy. I suppose the argument of money is in play, but I feel that first-world issues like these are often overlooked and I wanted to bring attention to them, even if it is not all too merited.

Picture from Pexels

The Power Ancestry Holds

The Power Ancestry Holds

Ancestral beings of cultural divides,

Grown rampant in strange places,

Of heartless origin, in thoughtless action,

Weary to the idea of embraces.


Grudging darkness bound by light,

United in fantasies of desperate clamors.

Broken nails of maritime transports,

Unraveled disdain of illuminated hammers.


Light ironically grew colorful,

Rays of unabashed emerald,

Shone brightly to heartless mammals,

But dully to what heartless resembled.


Unalterable rays of past reject waiver,

Reaching everlasting states of anxieties.

The deteriorating power of light,

Falsified by undeserving deities.


Empowering of false conduits,

Unaware of their fraudulence.

Ideological development of superiority,

Capitalizing on ideas of ignorance.


A salty stench of modern giants,

Overpowers those of sugar and spice,

Forcibly worn on darkened souls,

From cruel ancestors who play nice.


–Kevin J Flors

Thanks for reading. The power of ancestry nowadays is all the more prevalent with the recent showings of racism in Charlottesville and with unjust killings by police officers that more and more seem to be based in large part on the skin color of the people they see. Some white people believe that they have this superiority over other races, and that is blatantly false. The fact that all this is going on is crazy and the fact that people in media can’t defend it is furthering the insanity. I do want to say that I do not believe our recent President promoted racist individuals to act as ignorantly as their beliefs. I believe it has indirectly come about as an unexpected and unfortunate outcome of lastly having an African-American president. The unjust actions of these racist individuals should be unacceptable in any society, but especially in one that promotes ideas of diversity and acceptance.

Guardians of Wealth

Guardians of Wealth

Gracious guardians of wealth,

Form more perfect unions,

To promote private welfare,

To free others from further suffering.


While they start harvesting,

Those who afford to live,

In a land far less free,

Than a homely Cuban bay.


Those who dare stray,

These rich goliaths,

Throw shiny rocks,

Entertaining drab shepherds,


As their young get devoured by leopards.

Justice enforced by slaves,

Inevitably dying,

From waves of disdain,


Or grams of cocaine.

Undivided attention is what,

Gargoyles of greed crave.

Devout to no god,


But those they can’t prod.

Yet towns filled with,

Adoration and sympathy,

Giving wishes only of good health,


To these gracious guardians of wealth.


— Kevin J Flors

Thanks for reading. The recent Emmy’s award show inspired me to write this and it turned more political then I had thought it would when I started.  The main feature of this poem that I love is on the technical level. I am proud of the rhyme scheme I incorporated in between the stanzas. I am also proud of the references I sprinkle into the poem, because I normally stray away from allusions and the like. With that being said, it brings about an interesting viewpoint. I do not want this poem to be one that numbs people to good deeds done by those that are these, “guardians of wealth.”  I just want to provide a new perspective to how American society can be viewed and help people think of new perspectives when it comes to the capitalistic society we live in.

Picture from Pexels

Independent Thoughts

Independent Thoughts

Isolation had haunted his mind.

Restless with no insight,

That his creative heart was still,

Thumping charms of immeasurable fright.


Grief could not interpret,

The hymnals of anger.

Uninterrupted words,

Entwined in a sour rancor.


Rendering worthless waiting,

This was the end…


…the end this was,

Worthlessly waiting to rend.


Soured rancor was entwining,

His words uninterpreted.

Angrily sang hymnals,

Grief had interrupted.


Fright had measured charming thumps,

Still in his hearts. Creation,

In sight, was not rested,

For minds had haunted his isolation.

–Kevin J Flors

     Thanks for reading. I’ve thought about using this reversal technique in my poetry for a while. I just couldn’t think about a topic to cover until now. I do not plan on doing this for all my poetry, but it is a change to a normal structure that I hope is welcome. The main issue I have with this poem is the cryptic nature of it. Cryptic writing has never been a strength of mine, so if you dislike it, please keep in mind that I am trying my best to develop all my skills. With that being said, I do think this is a great poem that dives into the issues and emotions of the human mind and how it  determines our behaviors when being independent and how it can later affect the issues of socialization.

Picture from Pexels



The moonlight was dull,

Cold in candescence.

His old home,

It too birthing pestilence.


Bound by memories,

Of a phantom time,

Old and ruined,

Like ashy graves of grime.


He sheltered his body,

Sheltered his mind,

Until one day,

He’d chose to unbind.


Opening the door,

Peek and gauge,

Careful surgeon,

Under rib—.


Slammed door,

Retreating back inside,

Now rejoicing by his relief,

And clarity being revived.


Countless moons had passed,

Staring with what was left of his crusted eyes,

At a vase given to him,

By a woman who spoke in sympathetic lies.


Angels told him to forgive,

Devils told him to forfeit,

Confused agony and sorrow,

He decided to remain in conflict.


The Earth continued to orbit,

The walls continued to crack,

The voice of his mother,

Demanding that he go back.


After much thought,

The man stood decrepit,

But nevertheless tall,

And walked without spit.


Door had grew larger,

Towering portal,

Turned key,

No mor—.


Sun shone,

With warm candescence,

A new home,

With no more pestilence.

-Kevin Joseph Flors


Thanks for reading. Song.

(Photograph from Pexels.com)