Poets journey

I have been a poet since I was in middle school(grades 7 and 8). I remember in high school actively shoving my pain to higher than it was so that I could write more. I remember my Spanish teacher being very concerned and I was sent to the guidance counselor because of it.

When I graduated, I tried college for awhile. And there I met a poet. A published literary writer who was also a poet. And he thought my work was shit, until I told him which pieces had been published. But his sheer derision…I let him get to me. This writer whose talent had cast him adrift until he found himself teaching creative writing at a junior college. I suppose now, I can see the bitterness. To have a multiple books in print and to have this be the result. Now, I get where he was coming from. Then, it crushed my desire to create.

And I focused my energies elsewhere. Having tried and been told that I wasn’t good enough to be a writer. And I lost my poetic voice. I wanted to write but nothing would come. I’d silenced the part of me that needed to be torn out and shown. I’d sacrificed who I was for what I wanted. The true me only peaking out when I gave in to abandon.

Even through my bleakness. Through my heartache in which there was nothing but endless pain. Even then I could not write. It was like it was too much. I’d stopped feeling(emphasis) for so long that I just couldn’t. But my subconscious was working. And it was Tearing down barriers. Until, at last, I decided to tear down the last walls. Between what I felt and the top self that was floating above this deep well, disconnected from any way of communicating what I felt because I wasn’t feeling it. Because I was hiding from my feelings.

This isn’t when I started writing. This is when I broke down. When my emotions raged through me. When I was lost and looking for any way out. When I was howling in pain and the only thing that alleviated my pain was inflicting that pain on others. And slowly, after years, I got better. Not healthy. Just clear enough that I could write. And I started writing and it was just for me. I didn’t do anything to advertise. I just wrote and wrote and wrote.

But I didn’t know what I wanted. Knowing what you want is essential. Because hope is a finite thing. You can run out. You can spread it too thin. Spread yourself out, hoping for some kind of epiphany. But that’s not how this works.

You want things but poetry wants things too. And in the end, you serve your art. It’s the only way I’ve found to be. It becomes who you are. And everything else is in service to that. Except people.

People are startling wonderful stars dancing together…and drifting apart.

When you give up pieces of yourself and they spin away, you watch as they are gone, but the poet…
The poet sees the connection and the unbearable sadness of loss and the love and the pain and the beauty. And the poet drags you up. It says write this. In this moment, you are this frozen minute of pain and connection. Reach out to them. Cut your bleeding heart from your chest and show it still beating out its pain.

And be free. And wake. And hope.

Annual reexamination ’18

I’ve been reexamining things. What I want and what I want to do. And my thinking is this, maybe I won’t be a commercial success. Hell, how many poets are commercial successes? And that’s what I am. A poet. Sure, I write short stories and erotica but that’s not what I come back to. It’s poetry. It’s always poetry.

So what do I want?
I want two primary things for my life. I want to be with someone who falls as deeply in love with me as I fall for them. And I want to be with them. I’m pretty good at finding the former, it’s the ‘be with them part’ that gives me trouble.

And my complicated love life notwithstanding, I want to write. I want to write poetry that has people saying, “yeah, me too.” That causes goosebumps when you hear me speak it. I want a poem I write to be some piece that lives with someone. That is what I want. Money and fame are not worth what we ascribe. I want to be impactful to the lives of the people who read my work. Maybe not all, probably even not most, but to the few that read and this poem is what they needed. This resonates.

I suppose I want to create beauty. And connect with people who connect to my work.

Close enough to be far away

This is the poem I wrote while completely in despair before I passed out from emotional pain that feels like a heart attack, but just a little one. A poem that I couldn’t go to sleep without writing even though I was exhausted, having had four hours of sleep each night for four nights.

Sitting in this storm full of razor blades
Cut to pieces in the eye
Saw you through the wind
Thought take a chance
Else you die

Never make it past the barriers
Just this blood
This pain
These tears

Waiting for the long road
To end

And these are the thoughts after I wake, having gotten four hours of sleep and not being able to get back to sleep, because my heart hurts like a constant low level heart attack and I widen my eyes and hold my breath to keep writing and my vision blurs from unshed tears. And I blink but things just get more blurry. And I have to take a breath. And it feels like everything stops.

It doesn’t.
And I think
“It’s halfway through the week, can I make it through another one?”
It’s been two weeks and I’m still not sleeping and tears are so close to the surface and I feel so lost and lonely. And I want all the things we might be or have been but I miss my friend too. And life is just stupid and hard.

TMI Tuesday

Why participate in TMI Tuesday? Why not?

1. Who was the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them?

Mary Beth T. She was a young lady in my kindergarten class. She had hair that was gold and brown. You may think that that is too young but, I was advanced in many ways and believe me it was a full blown crush.

2. What is the most important material possession you have and why?

My smartphone. It’s my music device, my book reader, my game machine, my camera, and the platform on which I write most of my posts. All of the Split sky trilogy started on my smartphone. I have been without a smartphone when it is broken and it was agony. I’ve been without a vehicle but I live in a major city and well, uber. But my phone fills so many niche functions in my life and its my connection to the internet and the primary medium on which I talk to many friends.

3. If you were a cake which cake would you be?

Lemon cake. cause I love lemon cake and I might as well be something delicious.

4. Has anything/anyone every saved your life before?

Yes, I’ve had my life saved by people and events. Since I don’t even write out the specifics anywhere, it ain’t going to happen here, either.

5. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

I’d love to be able to pick up any instrument and just be able to play it with passion and beauty.

Bonus: Do you have a dream you’re pursuing? Tell us about it.

You’re reading it right now. Writing my poetry, stories, and thoughts is my dream. Too bad I am not getting paid for it, lol.

Mystery Blogger nomination part 2

The ever interesting Scarlet A. Rhiannon nominated me for the Mystery Blogger award and much as I appreciate the nomination I literally just did this yesterday.  However, since she so graciously nominated me it would be churlish to completely decline.  So I will answer the questions she posed.


These were her questions:

  1. Why do you blog the way that you do? 

    This is a interesting question. I first started this blog with the intention of rededicating myself to poetry. A emotional outlet and skill I had allowed to lapse and one that I wanted to pursue again. So I started writing M/W/F because I knew without a schedule that I would grind down and eventually stop writing again.  As I went along I decided that any time I had something to say I’d publish it.  That has led to numerous short stories, four erotica serials and 3 audio serials that became the Split Sky trilogy pages.
    Then I decided to do a poem a day for Poetry Month(April). I have done more and more poems per day during that month(in addition to normal posts) and I nearly died, figuratively, while writing 4 poems per day.  But it did teach me to write anywhere, any when. And that continues to this day where I will write all the time.
    So I blog according to my schedule and I blog whenever I have a thought that becomes a thought or rant or poem or just a post of what I just dreamed.
    All poems are literally what I am feeling right at that moment and are autobiographical. So in a way it is also therapy for someone who would never trust a therapist.  I don’t know if that answers the question but I think it’s somewhere in there.  Or maybe it’s just that I want to create something beautiful and I hope that something I create causes shivers down the spines of others.

  2. What is your useless super power?

    This may not seem useless but it is the ability that has proven to be the least useful.  Occasionally, I can look at a person and see the entire skein of their lives unfold.  It’s generally just a glimpse that leaves me with an impression but since no one believes me when I tell them what I saw, it’s mostly useless.

  3. What is the Greatest thing to ever happen to you?

    The greatest thing was that Morgan asked me to dance.  This also led to my greatest tragedy.

  4. Do I believe in miracles?

    No. I don’t believe in miracles as some wondrous mysterious event that occurs.  I believe in power and those who wield power. Are there wondrous things and beings?  Sure.  Do they wield power for their own reasons and to their own ends?  Yes. But miracles as most understand them?  No, I don’t believe in them.

  5. What would you do if you had a million dollars?

    Well, presumably, I won it somehow because that is no where close to my income level. So right away I would pay taxes on the sum.  Now I have roughly 600K.  I would then give my mother 60K because I have a long standing agreement with her that any funds I win, she gets 10%. My fortune will be her fortune.  I would then pay off my debt. Then I would chop the remainder in half.  I would invest that half in such a way that I begin receiving income from the funds.  The remaining amount I would buy myself a new truck, mines pretty old. Then I would fly out to Texas and visit with some friends.  While there, I would buy my good friend a new car because she deserves some joy.  And I would visit with her until I knew what to do next.

Mystery Blogger Award!


Thank You, Ava of MasterBrozAndAva for Nominating me for this award.

This award was Created by Okoto Enigma to highlight blogs that may be less well known.


  • Put the award logo/image on your blog.
  • List the rules.
  • Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  • Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well.
  • Tell your readers 3 things about yourself.
  • Answer the questions you were asked.
  • You have to nominate 10 people.
  • Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog.
  • Ask your nominees any five questions of your choice, with one weird or funny question.


Three Things about myself?

Hmm, three things that I have not already mentioned…

I favor abstract expressionism like Mark Rothko

The overarching theme of my life seems to be that I will reach, seemingly grasp, then lose the person to whom I have fallen in love with.

I edit as I write not after.  Any editing that occurs, occurs after it hits the page and is published.


What is your greatest fear?

My greatest fear is that I will make a irrevocable decision just prior to realizing all that I desire is about to come to pass.

What do you feel is your best accomplishment, thus far, in your life?

What I consider to be my best accomplishment would sound insane to most. Let me put it into simple terms.  I brokered a peace between disparate groups who had no good reason to be at odds with each other, leading to a coalition that should last well into the future.
That probably doesn’t sound any less insane but, you can trust me,  it really does.

If you had 1 unrestricted wish, what would you wish for?

I don’t know. If I wish to be there for Morgan then I give up the man that I’ve become as a direct result, and the people in my life now. And the people I’ve effected and even saved as a result. If I don’t save a life then who am I? Or should I change the world?  This is the worst type of dilemma. The kind with no good answer. If time alteration is a bad idea, and it usually is, then I suppose I would wish for money. Enough money that I could do the things that I want to do. I wouldn’t want unrestricted happiness or to influence people to act in the ways that I would prefer. Really money is a type of freedom. When wielded as a tool and not as a means of display or ego.

What inspired you to begin your blogging journey?

I decided that I needed to starting filling in the vast gaping hole where Morgan used to be. To start to experience and feel again without restriction. To embrace poetry and who I really am rather than what I decided I was because other people wanted me to fit some mold. To Live out loud. Without regard to closet or secrets that were mine to tell

What is your favorite type of music?

This will sound like bullshit, but Good.  Good is my favorite type of music.  I have no particular genre that I favor. I used to say everything but rap and country.  Until I found some rap and country that I loved. So, really, it is any music that resonates with me.
I will say that most mainstream pop is boring and not what I favor but that could just be the musician in me being a snob.



The first I cannot comment on her blog because she does not allow comments.  But, she is the poet whose work floors me every time.

Allison Marie Conway

Musings on D/s

Words from a Little Person


Heartstring Eulogies

@ bittersweet diary

A Writer’s Soul

Anarie Brady

Thrill of the Chaste



  1. If a song could be your theme song, in what genre of music would that song be from?
  2. What part does food play in your life?
  3. What factors stop you from writing and why?
  4. Is it Nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?
  5. How pretentious do you consider someone who slings Shakespeare around?


Lost in my life

I miss you in the long empty place
Between one breath and the next
Between one heartbeat
And the long hopeless till the next
When I wake
And your words are silent
When I sleep
Alone in my empty bed
Driving down freeways wondering if your up
If you’d like to say high
But can’t
My limbs ache for want of holding you
My words drip from blurry eyes
Out into the spaces between
Hoping they reach you
Hoping they bring you back
Heart beats waiting

What dreams may come

Do you ever think that the only reason you are still alive is because you don’t have a gun at the right/wrong time?

I do. All the time. More lately admittedly. It’s that it’s quick. You’d think that if I really wanted to do it, I would have a plan. And plan alternatives. I have thoughts. I do. That sudden urge to step up and off the ledge. The overdose on common things method.
Fuck, I carry a super sharp blade on me at all times. A couple of swipes up the tree, avoiding the tendons, easy peasy.

So what stops me?
Two thoughts.

One, That I’ll fail. And then have to deal with the additional problems afterwards.

Two. That I’ll succeed. But between execution and finality, I’ll get a call or something will change that makes me want to live. And it will be too late.

I don’t think it’s a sin or anything like that. I regard death as mere transition. I’d be going home.

So why am I still here?

Fear and hope.

Maybe we don’t all think of things in those terms, but for most, fear and hope will get you through the day.

For a lucky few they have love.

For most everyone else, add in a sprinkling of inertia and lack of opportunity.

Fear and hope.