Can you call my bluff
Poker face, dressed in lace
Teetering on the extremes
Of your mind

A tight rope to my
Imaginings, run wild
Swaying in the wind
No fear

I jump!

Catch me, love

“You asked me how to get out of the finite dimensions when I feel like it. I certainly don’t use logic when I do it. Logic’s the first thing you have to get rid of.”
― J.D. Salinger, Nine Stories


Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash

Breathing In

These emotions I have
Have yet to find their place
In this world
Still pending

It’s unfair you know
Speaking to no avail

Until there are
No more words left
Flushed feelings faded out
Apathetic to my wounds
Insisting on being known


“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” — Kahlil Gibra


Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Inimicis pra Amicis

You desire a truth,
I’ll give you it then.

I’ll be fair and honest,
Don’t expect this again.

I am going to stab you.
Pierce through your veil
For what hides underneath
Is both putrid and stale

If I could get closer.
I’d find what I know
is lurking beneath,
in your shadows

A door unlocked,
My worlds unknown
You put on display
A friend turned foe

The things that hurt
You know them well
You’ve taken up arms
And sold a sore tale

My memories of you
Have gone with the wind
Like a weak rooted tree
You crack and you bend

Never solid on ten
With motives unknown
Always loyal to the ones
Who leave when it snows

I sew my seeds
In conscious mind
This truth is for you
You gave me mine

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

-Washington Irving


Photo by mwangi gatheca on Unsplash

Praeceptum: Inimicis pra Amicis

Tell me a Truth

∗ Don’t riddle or drag
Just shoot it to me square
 Don’t play on my porch
— or take me for fare

  • Don’t swindle on tricks
  • Nor omit the tiny bits
  • Don’t put on a cape, a mask  — no wigs

Just tell me a Truth


“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.” – Anne Lamott


Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash

Journey in the Vessel

Of the many things I’d rather be,
Anything but self, lacks prerequisite credential.
There is nothing more particular, than the essence
Of this self; the eye in this I

Eye am seeking, that which I called upon my self
In the unbound spiral of time,
This I has always been fruitful
And in my abundance, you will find
There is no you or I
Where one is, the other is revealed.

Express your self,

Indulge your eye.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Pierced Ground

There’s something about unsettled wounds
That leave the scent of fresh ash in the air
Familiarity gone in the wind, shredded
Obliterated until there is nothing left

There is a rising up of something new
Growing in the place of this now desolate land
Seeking to take root and bring about


And so, I’m always going with the wind
Until I land where I’m meant to be
Bringing new life to these old scars
Begging for a chance to heal

Unknown flowers burst through the seams
Of my tailored marks, screaming out
To my source of eternal power
Seal this one, and make her new again

Give her the strength of a thousand
In this body that fights for ten
Oh, how you must guard your heart
In a world made to tear you apart

Save your words and use your mind
Be smart my dear, ’cause they will always try

Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

Catch and Release

I just want to write.

These days, it feels as though I’m actively making the choice not to create. And, in order to relieve myself from the feeling of impending doom that tends to bring… I… write….

Contradiction much?

I want to create. Just write, something. Anything…

These words flash boldly across my mind, like an incessant nagging. Forced scheduling on an overdue payment. My personal debt collector.

As I sit to write, my mind zooms in and out of focus…constantly interrupted by the bells of efficiency.

Oh, that damned perfectionist streak! I write and I write and I write some more…but my once freely creative words fall under the strict revision of my own damned mind. This is not academia!

Seriously, why? What does a perfect piece even look like? And perfect for who? And why does that matter? They’re my feelings. My expressions.

And I think…ahh, you’re doing it again. Even here.

Truth is…

I struggle with expressing everything that I feel, in words.

But I write…to free myself. Yet, end up feeling trapped by the idea of not coming across clearly. The HORROR..

SO, what does life do?

Bring me someone to say, “stop worrying about how people receive you!”

Then, it made sense again. I’d become fearful.
The words stuck with me for days. So I sat, ruminating…for about a week.

And you know what happened after that week? I decided to sit down and just pour.

Yeah, it took me about 3 days to finish a “complete” thought…but I did it.

Today, I’m choosing to release. I hope you all are doing the same for yourselves! What have you been holding on to that is past due for RELEASE?

Be gentle. Observe it, then…

Let. It. Go! 

“There is no darkness so dense, so menacing, or so difficult that it cannot be overcome by light.” – Vern P. Stanfill