Tag Archives: literature


An aftertaste lingers…

The thought you let go,

You can still taste it.


In the back of the tongue,

Where sweet and bitter meet,

There lies a dark remembrance.


Sweet longing.

Bitter desire.

Sift and drink saliva of the past…


Anointing lips

While asking yourself


“How did this happen?”


An aftertaste disturbs,

You return to the moment and remember…

It was something you ate.





To write is all I have

Words to fill the void

I’ve left for myself.


I am the best enforcer I’ve ever had.


Vilest forms of torture

Previously undreamt by man


Sulking in expectations left to never be satisfied

Forcing my eyes on images of lost pasts

Sitting in between death and pain

Running through it

Over and over again


There’s a dark and dreary schoolyard I’ve built in my mind,

Where the outcasts are allowed no fun

No happiness

No laughter


Share your toys and have them stolen

Over and over


Share your dolls and have their heads pulled out

Over and over


Share your crayons and have them all broken in two

Over and over


Share your lunch and have it replaced with spit

Over and over


Share your favorite games and lose to cheaters

Over and over


It feels so good,

The Sadomasochistic games

Where I’ll forever be champion.





Welcome Spring With A Poem!

This is a poem I found in my all time favorite book “The Gypsy Trail:An Anthology for Campers” it was gifted to me by a man who runs an antique shop in Sausalito. It features a plethora of famous poets and writers, my copy looks like one of the first few copies ever printed…1914.

In honor of the first day of spring I will share one of my favorite poems in here. I love this season so much! Partly because this is when I came into this world, at the same time flowers unfurled, Butterflies emerged from chrysalis, and Bees pollinated..

from the section “Spring” 


O dwellers in the dust, arise,
My little brothers of the field,
And put the sleep out of your eyes!
Your death-doom is repealed.

Lift all your golden faces now,
You dandelions in the ground!
You quince and thorn and apple bough,
Your foreheads are unbound.

O dwellers in the frost,awake,
My little brothers of the mould!
It is time to forth and slake
Your being as of old.

You frogs and newts and creatures small
In the pervading urge of spring,
Who taught you in the dreary fall
To guess so glad a thing?

From every swale your watery notes,
Piercing the rainy cedar lands,
Proclaim your tiny silver throats
Are loosened of their bands.

O dwellers in the desperate bark
My brothers of the mortal birth
Is there no whisper bids you mark
The easter of the earth?

Let the great flood of spring’s return
Float every fear away, and know
We are all fellows of the fern
And children of the snow.




Engaging Writing Prompt

I am writing more. Practice makes perfect! Even though This prompt was silly, it actually got a lot out of me. Got me writing and thats what really matters here! 

How would I be different if an incident from my past was erased?
There are three incidents that pop into my head when pondering the option.

  1. The first time I got into a physical fight.
  2. The first time I fell in love.
  3. Texting through my anger.

These all leave me with the biggest question.

Do I define myself by my past?

Why are we so easy to identify the “way we are” by the things that have happened to us? I certainly am not a violent person; the first time was the last. Everything that happened in those Romeo/Juliet years of high school when I fell in love has nothing to do with the thriving passionate love that I’ve found now in my Soul Mate. We are happy as can be and there is no room for any other opinions on our love but our own.

I’m still dealing with number three. And that’s because I have yet to forgive myself. Once we find forgiveness within all the past history is no longer energized by our emotions. We can be free from silly prompts and online quizzes that ask the same stupid question, “What would you erase from your past and why?” Because we understand the past and future are both happening right NOW.

Piece Of Prose “Looking Back”

“There is much to learn from Lot’s wife and Orpheus who were told not to look back,” he mused as we drove away from the home i’ve grown to know. A landscape that reflected our once thriving family. I kept my eyes shut, the rays of the sun etched shadows of the dying redwoods across my face. I began a new mantra in my mind.

“Just don’t look back – We are almost there”

From the Moleskine No.2

I can see the golden rays of sunlight beaming down through the trees, onto cliff sides as gentle waves kiss the rocks below and on giant pyramidal islands out near the horizon. I know that I am in a kingdom, my kingdom… the moment I remembered we had parked out by the edge of the highway.

“Woah, babe your aura is decorated with so many fucking stars” The way he looks at me makes me feel like magic. He threw me down on the hood of the car, and I looked up and saw it. Not a cloud in sight, but still something was in the sky. Some gorgeous stream of white iridescence splashed along my convex view.

“Its the Milky Way”, dazed whispers filled the silence between us.

My heart burst forth into visions of places i’ve been but not seen with these physical eyes. Somehow I knew, that is where I came from, where I am going, and what I live to know.

On that night I remembered and I will never let myself forget.