Posted in Photography, Uncategorized


Life is filled with different seasons, the ups and downs, moments-good and bad. That make up our lives and daily interactions. I’m always amazed when I see how far an artist goes for their work. Especially photographers. Laying in the mud, in freezing or blistering conditions, for that one perfect shot. That one perfect moment they can wait hours to capture. This image they have in their head that shapes the way they view things.

Artists have such a unique perspective of the world. Whether you’re a writer, a painter, a photographer, a sculptor. Or any combination of thousands of different talents that make you the artist and person you are. So full of life and willing to share with others, while still keeping a part of themselves unknown. Leaving their work open for the masses or the few to be viewed. For someone else’s perception of their personal work to become what it means to them as the viewer and not what it means to the artist.

Perspective in life, in whatever season you are in. Whatever artistic talent you do or do not possess is what shapes your actions and your reactions. Artist’s are all about changing perspective. Theirs and yours. When you find yourself in a season of change or maybe hardship, be like an artist, look for the best in what you see and if all else fails, change your perspective.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Life’s Battles

Girls start out soft and sweet they say, quiet and delicate. But what if they came into the world as they meant to go on?

Screaming at the top of their lungs. Ready for any battle that may come their way. For the battles will come. And some part of them, even at birth knows this.

Boys start out stoic and happy they say, extroverted and sturdy. But what if they came into the world as they meant to go on?

Screaming at the top of their lungs. Ready for any battle that may come their way. For the battles will come. And some part of them, even at birth knows this.

What if we all started out as we meant to go on? Not in a box or as an idea. But just as ourselves. Screaming each day at the top of our lungs.

Our hearts filled with the madness and pain of living. But also, the joyfulness and laughter of life. We cannot fully experience one without the other.

For in madness and pain we find what truly brings us joy and laughter at our darkest moments. And if not for the joy and laughter we wouldn’t know what caused the madness and pain in us.

Life is a balance that only you can find for yourself. Start out as you mean to go on. Not in a mask or a cage of others perception. But screaming at the top of your lungs, in laughter, in madness, in joyfulness and pain.

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Silly Universes in People

Falling slowly apart so you wouldn’t notice. Then all at once, like a tsunami, it rolled over me. The cracks in my foundation grew. I fell apart at the seams.

Silly that, isn’t it? How can a person fall apart at the seams? What sews them together to begin with? Is it love? Their history? Their dreams? Their regrets?

Maybe it’s everything rolled into one brilliant, blinding universe inside someone. So that when I was done falling apart, when my foundation cracked and the tsunami rolled over me.

I fractured at the seams of whatever had deigned to hold me together this long. Rising up from my feet, rolling under my skin, until the moon, stars and black holes of my universe burst through.

Settling on my skin like dust. That I slowly inhale as I pull the seams of myself back together each time. Now it twinkles on my skin, this fine shimmer against the darkness. The cracks filled with molten lava.

Silly that, isn’t it? To think of a person as if they had a universe inside of them? One made up of love, history, dreams and regrets. That spills over every time they come apart at the seams. Spilling onto each those around them. Tying us all together, piece by piece.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

My Mothers Screams

I remember the screams most now. My mothers screams….house and lawn full of people waiting. Her calling his phone over and over with no answer. Then the flashing lights. 


The lights pulled up and a man stepped out. My father was inside. He asked for the parents of, she replied “I’m his mother.” Then without warning lights snatched the world out from under us. “I’m sorry to inform you…was killed in a car accident…” 


I remember the words fading in and out as my mother collapsed and my father burst out of the house yelling, “what did you just say?!” Lights backed away from this wrath. Still my mothers screams…


Then people being ushered into the house. My mother in a room somewhere sobbing. My father at the table surrounded by people. My sister and I left if a house full of people talking about death. I offered refills on drinks. What else was I to do? 


I didn’t understand. It’s almost 15 years later and I woke to the sound of my mothers screams. A night full of nightmares that weren’t just a dream. The words chanting in my head, “it’s him, it’s him, he’s dead…”

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

An Artist’s Longing

Tears travelled well-worn and familiar paths down my cheeks, catching on the curve of my jaw for one suspended moment in time before they continued to fall. Sometimes my hands would catch them and sometimes the paper beneath would grow another mark. 


Time slowed, seconds, minutes, or hours may have passed. I know not which. Only that my heart ached as I poured out the feelings I couldn’t give a loud enough voice too. Scribbled words across paper stained with tears and sorrow. 


I longed to be held, but there was no one for such luxuries. I needed to pull myself together again and stop wishing for things I could not have. A soft touch, but one that held tight, even amidst the struggle and pains that life sometimes brought. 


Oh, but I longed, in the deepest parts of me, the ones I couldn’t fully explain. For such a simple yet fantastic thing as an affection that belonged solely to me. To know I could touch without restraint and be met in return with joy and comfort. 


My soul needed it like a flower needs the sun, I can feel it’s strength waning at times for the lack of it. Yet still I continued on. A little more wilted as time went on. My petals growing weary and pale as the days passed and my own did not come.


I can only take comfort in the fact that one day another such as I may find me and that together our stems and leaves will twine into a strong vine and our unique petals will reach for each other to live in colorful harmony and affection. 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Life-Terrifyingly Beautiful

Life is terrifying but beautiful. Terrifying because almost every aspect has at least an element of the unknown. And yet beautiful for the very same reason. 

So much chaos inside each person, the only certainties that you have been born and that you will one day die. What happens in between is up to you. 

Some chose the path well travelled to avoid obstacles, but find little happiness. Often finding themselves wishing for something else or a dream they once cherished. 

Others choose the path they must forge on their own. Fighting obstacles at every turn to get what they have so long desired. They are filled with drive even when others scoff at their dreams. 

The first may know happiness but they often feel the sharp sting of regret as time passes. The second often feels regret each time they fall down. But once they attain what they set out for, their happiness knows no bounds. 

I am the first even as I am the second. I traverse the path well worn if only to also follow the path that I choose for myself. I cannot lose sight of my dreams or I will fall prey to the common and mundane days that the world tells me I must suffer for stability and happiness.

The world can steal your dreams as the wind steals smoke from a fire. Yet a fire burns its own path with unrelenting force regardless of what surrounds it or the opinion of others. Be a fire for yourself and surround yourself with matches for the days when you forget how amazing you are.

It is a journey we each must take on our own. Regardless of those we are surrounded by. We must choose our path and learn to be at peace with our choice. Else there will be little contentment or joy in the constant void of what ifs and what might have been. 

If nothing else, no matter the path you choose. Choose peace and contentment for yourself no matter the circumstances you find yourself in. There is no greater pain than living a life on how you are told too instead of the life you are meant too.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized


Time never moves slower then when you’re dying on the inside. When the dam breaks and the tears come. I once held their hand in mine. Now their hand holds my heart in a fist and they’ve wrapped the other around my throat.

The only thing keeping me above the waves even as they shove me under. Your waves crash over me until I’m gasping for air. Punishing my lungs with every breath I cannot draw.

Your hand around my throat keeps my head above the water, but still I cannot breathe. The fist around my heart hurts to much to try and take in air.

I listen to your waves and watch for your storms. But you do not do the same for me and your storms so overtake you that you cannot see what they have done to me.

My tears mix with the water and it goes unnoticed as long as I soothe your hurts.  I have a bucket filled with holes to try and keep the water at a safe distance. But the hand around my throat is all that keeps me afloat even as it drowns me.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

What Am I?

Ignorance is rarely bliss when it comes to matters of the heart and emotions are involved, it’s usually painful in the end.

Feelings can be like a persistent, never ending ocean wave that crashes over you, again and again. Causing you to feel like you’re drowning.

Your brain creates rational logic as quickly as your lungs force out the sobs that choke you and the tears fall from your eyes. 

You know you won’t always feel this way, but the hammer to your skull and the fist clutching your heart speak different tunes.

You know the reasons behind the actions, but you still feel the pain of the inaction and seemingly empty words.

Your body detaches from itself, becomes a shell. The pain is there but it becomes dull, abstract, as if someone else suffers it even as your hands cover your face or clutch your sides in an effort to comfort what cannot be comforted.

Am I a human being?

Or am I a wind up toy?

Am I an active partner?

Or am I there to stroke your ego?

Am I a treasured friend?

Or am I your entertainment?

I am not the sum of what you make me. I am many things to many people. Rarely am I seen for what I am. If I am me: Then what are you?

Posted in Uncategorized


They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t. 

But it’s true there are some that all you can see is the fractured glass on the verge of shattering. 

Looking into their eyes, you see what cannot fully be given a voice: fear, anxiety, pain, sadness…and so much more. 

You may not know the cause of each, but a part of you, the darker part of you responds to it. Like recognizes like. 

These people appear to fascinate those around them even as they scare them. For many of them are still a kaleidoscope of color more beautiful than words.

They burst with feeling and passion and fight every day whether seen or unseen to live in the moment. To ignore themselves for the sake of others and to survive. 

It’s almost a dance between two parts of a whole person. The side that longs to give in and shut down. And the side that pushes to succeed and thrive. 

And each time the pressure intensifies they feel as if they will break or they cannot sustain any more damage. 

But the cracks fill up with light and color after a time if they allow it. Their strength increases. And they become more:

More beautiful.

More caring. 

More giving. 

More kind. 

More than any mere words could ever describe. They are simply more than the most vivid imagination could picture or what any mother dreams for her child. 

They are a survivor. And you may think what do they have to survive? Their life doesn’t seem that difficult. But everyone has their demons and everyone has suffered loss in some form. 

Some more than others this is true. And each loss, whatever it may be, shapes a person. Their character, their personality, their ability to give and receive love. And they are more because of it. 

Posted in Uncategorized

Isn’t Real…Part 2

They cannot know the way it feels.
They assume you are disconnected.
That you are numb and have no feelings towards the outside world.

If only…if only I didn’t feel so much.
If only I was more disconnected.
If only at times I was numb rather then just blocking it out.

Instead I deal with words that slice my soul to shreds. That send my mind reeling so fast I cannot scramble up the muddy slope fast enough to withstand it.

Instead I try and retreat into myself, to regroup. To hold off the tears, to lessen the pressure, to avoid another night of pain.

But it isn’t in my nature to run. However ironic it may be that a broken person stands against a wave. That they can let the wave wash over them again and again, still managing to survive.

This is not because I cannot face these issues. It’s because I understand. I understand that those who send the wave are often themselves broken in some way.

That they have not yet learned how to handle this aspect of themselves. They have not learned to let the waves of life, big or small wash over them and still stand.

To push through each fall, no matter how much you have to gasp for breath after it is over. That being broken for a time does not make you weak and it does not mean you will always be broken.

But rather to remember that waves will always come, they will always crash, and you will always be left in the bright, soothing, dawn after the tide rolls out.