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We're all the same. Everyone faces every emotion. Everyone is capable of reflection. Not everyone uses these facets though. 

We are water. We are malleable and hard to contain. We reflect what's around us. We have unknown depths - depth that can be scary to dive into, but is ultimately more interesting than any surface ripple. 


I’ve realized 


Shouldn’t be beautiful

Or well crafted

Like carved stone

It should be free

Honest and pure 

Like spilled wine

Writing releases wounds

And allows them to close

Without burdening others 

Or over-privileging a fleeting thought

I write to be free 

So you will not judge me 



Civil I am 


I am not civil


Your voice scratches my soul

Days pass like lies I can't keep


Is not knowing any answer except why

No who what where or when or even how

Find the why and you will find faith


Surrounded by leafy green trees

Dancing in the breeze

They wave at me

Letting their branches move freely

I smile at them

And join in their freedom 

We bask together 

As the sun blesses another


Cemeteries are sad. Not in a creepy death way, but in a frozen time way. It's stagnant. It's human life turned into statues. Memories into stone. I don't wanna be remembered as cement. I want my life to be passed on and used again. Why should we put decaying fabrics six feet under I'm an effort to preserve an already dead body. A gravestone isn't a person. That person stays in the hearts and memories of loved ones, not under the ground. So why not give those lifeless limbs to a wounded soldier or accident victim. Why not spread the shadows of their life where they lived and loved, rather than an expensively designated patch of grass amongst skeletal strangers. Carve my name into my favorite tree so that I'm alive every time that tree blooms. Don't leave my name on cold cement. Let me see the world and wander. Don't let your last vision of me be lifeless.


I have a hard time listening
When you read aloud to me
I prefer to watch
Your face lights up and crinkles
You add the personality to poetry
And aren't afraid to say
You don't know a word
Normally I would cringe
When one bends back the book spine
But with you, I watch happily
And listen to your empathy
For the man in the love poem
Who is waiting for his wife at home


Education only provides

The key terms

To unlock

The knowledge

You already possessed


maybe every allah, prophet, god and goddess

are a facet of the Being,

in which every individual

experiences a part

of the goodness, power and sovereignty

that is our creator


I’m for once thankful for your snoring 
As it snaps my brain back to reality
And out of the garish and anxious state it slips into each night when the lights go out
It’s as if the lights are also turned off upstairs in my brain 
And the doors are locked and shop is closed
The workers are no longer there to tidy up and keep things in order
With nobody to sort my thoughts they creep out of catalogues
With nobody to dust the shelves, words and ideas slither out of place
They dance in new pairings and create casualties of peace piece by piece 
Memories and questions that had been sealed away slip into the foreground to fool around
They tango together, taking turns leading and warping into each other
The dance overtakes me as I fall asleep
Until your loud snore sounds the alarm that reality has not been altered 
And all of a sudden these thoughts reprimand themselves and return to order 


A tidy mind Is sprung forth

From a messy home 

Thoughts go in boxes 


To give space 

For new thoughts

To roam the halls

Since I’m stuck

In this room

Full of chaos

A room of one's own

Is all that you own

A mind of your own

So keep it tidy

And sort the chaos 


I can't tell the difference between sad and tired

Weary or dreary

Repressed tears

This laughter is lunacy

For I cannot even tell

Morose and somber

Am I depressed

Is this suffering inevitable

Or simply a symptom


Sleep deprived.


It used to be blue

Full of heat

Expanding potential

And far-reaching flames

Then simmered to orange

A stable fable of commitment

With flickers of red

When there was a bit of air

But now it's gray

Smothered yet neglected

The coals cannot claim to be embers

But I faintly remember

That blue inside of you


Young boys look at big screens

And they dream

Oh to be Iron Man

To find a "female"

To be impenetrable

Yet beloved

But boys who grow up

In this unfair tale

Lose their hair

Get rejected by women

And wonder

Why can't I be

Iron Man?

Something they have yet to learn

Is that Fe goes with male

to make Woman

It's a wonder!


We took the stars out of the sky

And pasted them on our skyscrapers

We flipped the world upside down 

To make it ours

We scraped life off this planet

To make it shine

But in a thousand years

The stars will take back

What belongs to the world

And we will be meager dust

Amidst the starry nights


The extras people

You can always tell

Would you like a bottle or the glass?


Appetizers?  Yes, of course

We will have the...

Anything for dessert?

Hmm.. I'll try the...

Will this be all together or separate?

All together please.

Even with pizza!


Extra toppings

Extra sauces

Extra is everything

You can always tell

Who is accustomed to having

Ordering without worrying

Or checking accounts

And who




Her eyes glazed over

Blurry with leaked tears

The words on the page blotted

So her eyes shifted to the window

White walls now rouged

By translucent floiage

The leaflets all amber and jaded

Leaving golden days behind

The mottled landscape 

Transposed dilatory

A whorled watercolor

The colors of Warhol

As if stippled by Monet

This impression was felt

Such that the colors of fall

Became the symbol of change

Happening within her

No longer enthralled

Her desire to seem stolid

Now suffused by vulnerability

Ideals withered and replaced

By this hostile reality

Men may never escape their cruelty

But women will withstand

Like the leaves of fall

We have been burned and crumbled

Into a brief respite

Before blooming anew

Our weathered limbs reach out

To be renewed in he solace of sun

A warm embrace welcomes growth

Sprouting new seeds askew

To claim fresh ground

Deserting the rotten and corrupted

For a tree, like me, must evolve

Forming roots to weather storms

This labor is draining


Her morning coffee sits

On the cluttered coffee table

Basking in the afternoon sun

She often sleeps late

But this coffee is not just brewed

It is waiting

To be sipped again

Perhaps after a chore

Or while picking up a book

Maybe not until dusk

To be sipped betwixt gulps of red wine

It is comfort and ritual

A daily luxury

That never gets old

Even when the coffee gets cold

Just like her mother

Was this learned behavior

In utero or childhood perhaps

Maybe even adolescence

Or was this genetics

A destiny of coffee and wine


The kitchen is sticky

And layered in old crap

Waiting for you 

To care enough

To pick it up

Much like your life

I cannot do it for you

But instead I am stuck

Waiting for you

To care enough

To pick it up


Loosely interlocked

No grip

No need to grasp

Glasses pushed back

With hair pulled forward

From the wind whipped

Through the rolled-down window

Their hands were calm



A gentle touch

With nothing to prove


Boys and puppies

Alike in certain ways

One of which being 

All the more desirable

And charming

With tousled hair

Perhaps it is revealing

Of their true nature

Which is rather helpless

And in need of attention


You fear your feelings





It is too much for you

So you shift your focus

Claiming it's on us

So the the onus is on me

To reveal reality

Without igniting your fear

Do you care? That I am scared?

I fear you

What you do to me

How you drain me

How opinions become fact

And vice versa

How do you not see?

As I tiptoe around

Flinching at your sound

I fear your feelings

Because I cannot endure

This charade anymore


Easing out of bed

Sliding down the stairs

I sip out to the front porch

In search of solitude

I ponder happiness

Decide it isn't less or more

But rather less introspection

And more of the mundane

From which I suffer

Perhaps the remedy is solitude

Perhaps it is better companionship

Perhaps I shall never now

As I sit still

Solemnly on my front porch


To seek out things we have in common

With those we adore of admire

And for those we dislike

We must find differences

The reality is we will always see what we seek

When this process of being human

Is our most commonality


to travel through space and time? fly on a plane to a new zone with different customs from another path of life. We feel so strongly when we enter other worlds - whether appreciation for our own out of lack of understanding or envy of a simpler or richer lifestyle. To step into a slower passage of time, filled with passive sips and intimate conversation. or to allow yourself to be sucked up by the energy that swirls in the hundreds, millions, of souls darting around you in search of something. this change in time, place and norms is a change in your brain. the connections you make in the external shape your thought patterns. are we simply our surroundings?


meaning of life

why are we here

whats the good life

and what does it look like

why do we suffer

would life be better without suffering 

what makes humanity distinct from other mammals

whats the purpose of life -

self-serving to the whole of humanity, to benefit others

we accept the reality with which we are presented


I’m so scared of failure. I’m scared of the whispers that will tell you I was a waste of time. I’m scared I'll spend all of my time and I will amount to nothing. Isn't to exist to be more than nothing in its very nature? Could my potential outweigh my production? Is it in my nature to be productive? I will just be me. Whatever that may be. There is no guarantee. But I want to matter. Perhaps for narcissistic reasons. If I don't matter to everyone else then why would I matter at all? If I don't make a difference then why should I exist at all? Maybe my purpose is to create someone, rather than something, who exists. Can one not matter only to oneself and that be sufficient?


Sometimes change starts small

With just a few pennies

These drops in the bucket
You may share some new thoughts

And change a few hearts

For in order to move a mountain

You must start with the small stones

Carry away those fears and falsehoods

To pave the way for a new day

An opened mind and a changed heart 

For this is the art of change

Just start with a small exchange

And one day you will see the light

Which is no longer blocked by height

Or fright

This is the might of change


I share the thoughts of many

Some here and others there

With everyone I can agree and disagree 

For that is the nature of humanity

If you cannot find likeness with another

Then you do not know them truly

Or yourself entirely

To better know one's self

One must study the other

For only through comparison

Do we find definition and clarity

I see your insanity

And I recognize my own humanity

In each other we find humility

And a bit of serendipity

The fragile ego is all we have

Until we see beyond the self

And accept our responsibility

To each and every other

For if every action 

There is an equal and opposite


Then what action

Will you take

What difference

Can you make


I can vow not to hate

I can acknowledge

My mistake

For privilege

Is not the greatest fate



Surrounded by idiots

They cheer and chant

Terrible slogans

Logic, they can't

Volatility and virility

Thus is this

Toxic Masculinity

In which we exist

False News and Church Pews

These things have in common

A shared spectator

Yelling Ah-men

Knees on necks

Voices stamped out

Bullets in bodies

Bloodied streets all about

I doom scroll 

And want to shout

At each and every troll

But much like the Grinch,

I'm shouting at walls.

Echoes of falsehoods,

Amongt prayers of blue,

I say to you,

"You're an idiot"

And, "that is not true"

But it does not matter

You still insist

"All Lives Matter"

Expecially the blue?

The death of one is not equal

To the murder of another

This system is not broken

On that we agree

But it's purpose is corrupt

Something you fail to see

We are not all the same

We can not

We do not

All love each other

I am not the Grinch

This is not Whoville

But there is a unified who

That looks and thinks like you

And sometimes wears blue

And there are walls

That scream absurdities

And disregard our realities

Because we do not conform

To this history of hate

Veiled behind white lights

And capitalism's delights

I am not the Grinch

For he is accepted

And the past is acknowledged

I am not alone

Except in the book of white faces

I try to tell, to yell

To share and care

But these walls are hell

And my eyes can only stare

For so long at such words

Instead I must go

And remove the megaphones

So that I can march elsewhere

To show that I care

Image by Annie Spratt
Tropical Plant
Image by Eugenio Mazzone
Image by Jean Carlo Emer
Image by Hello I'm Nik 🇬🇧
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