Posted in Poetry

Stop Choosing Profit Over People

Some choose violence, some are chosen by it. Victims shot down in their prime. Lives snuffed out by others rage. No coming back from a choice that wasn’t theirs. 


Some people can stand against it, fight. No matter how many walls against their back. Some fall with the first, second, or third blows. Not able to withstand the trauma. 
Some people say-but that isn’t me, I would never do that, act that way. Some people say thank God it wasn’t me…this time. All while looking at the world filled with people who aren’t, who would never, who didn’t… 


But look at how many do. And who suffers for it? Those that matter least to society’s base feeling of superiority over others. That ingrained beast you never taught different. That you taught the opposite. That you taught you were the one that mattered most. 


Women, children, people of color. Entitlement was never theirs. It’s yours when you turn a blind eye to the violence they and others face every day. When you make excuses. When you forget their deaths. Their suffering. Not because they are victims. But because they are people. 


And they are people that are gone. Because they were chosen by violence. Because they could not stand against it. Because it came for them. And it will never stop. Not until those that feel superior stand up and say I am not the only one who deserves to live without fear. 

Posted in Poetry

Thin Veneer

You speak to me, but your words prove you are deaf to what I say, to what I feel.

You speak about me, but your words prove you don’t know me and only say what makes you feel best.

You speak as if I cannot hear, as if I do not remember all the words that you have used before.

More importantly you speak as if your actions have not spoken louder than your words.
As if you have not already proven to me that you are deaf to my pain and my hopes.
As if you had not savaged the frayed ties that are barely holding us together yet again.
As if you had not shown me who you truly are beneath the veneer you wear for others.
Even if you play at something else, I have seen what lies beneath. I will not forget. I cannot forget.
Posted in Poetry

Anatomy or Myth

My bones are brittle, as if made of spun glass. Still they hold me strong. If I occasionally shatter, who should know? I am still whole, only broken within.

My organs cringe, shrinking away from their duties. As the world tries to consume me with its spite. For the sake of its own un-faced pain, they will attempt to ruin me.
My skin grows taunt and becomes a mask for the madness and glory within. Hidden from a population of those that pretend closeness for insecurity or powers sake.
My bones, my organs, my skin….you see only my body. Only what you wish to see. What you wish to judge and take.
But what am I really?
One day you will hear my laugh from the heavens and you will know. It will send a chill down your spine. Send fear into your heart. You will wish to never hear it again….
Yet it will haunt you in your dreams. Both your nightmares and those of magic bliss, so then you will know what you tried to destroy.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

The Universe came to Earth-Part III

When swirling eyes of constellations met steady eyes of soil, new growth occurred in both the stars and the flowers. 

When a mouth of sun alight with laughter was caught by a mouth of deep water, a brilliant display reflected back from the lovers’ connection for all to see. 

When the hands of the strong moon were wrapped in the gentle hands of vines, a foundation was built and pain of scars past were lessened. 

When a northern star found shelter from its many adventures and trials, and the shelter was called towards the star, a bright new home was created for both earth and stars.  

When a mind of intricacies and dancing milky ways clashed with a mine of treasures, tunnels and soft places to land. A greater understanding was reached for both.  

When the universe and earth came together and their horizons finally touched. It was as if a brilliant, stunning, mysterious pair of lovers that could never be unraveled began a walk towards the edge.

 

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Uncategorized

Earth: Him-Part II

If she was a universe, then he was the earth. 

 

His eyes warm and determined like the soil. Always changing, yet at the core steady and solid, waiting and watchful. 

 

His mouth was like water, able to burn or soothe with every word and movement. Life changing like ocean waves that wrapped around his lover and rocked them even after parting. 

 

His hands were like vines. Whip strong, weathered and calloused from his work. Showing what built him and what he would become. 

 

His body was a shelter from every storm known to man, calling his companion back home after every wandering adventure. 

 

His mind was a mine, filled with untold treasures and long forgotten tales, ones he revealed slowly to those who were patient enough to listen. It was endless tunnels and resting places. 

 

He was like the earth. 

Intelligent, stunning, full of mystery and care.  He walked like there was always a destination. Rooted in the ground, with eyes up towards the sky. 

 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Universe: Her-Part I

She was a universe unto herself.

 

Her eyes held constellations undiscovered in swirling, always changing, yet ever the same patterns. 

 

Her mouth held the sun and every blessed thing that could either waken her love’s soul or turn it into shards. 

 

Her hands were like the moon, gentle yet strong, scars and lines showing the past, present and future of her life. 

 

Her body was a northern star on the compass of a night sky. Always guiding her lover back home again to sink into her sweet embrace. 

 

Her mind was at once a black hole where all the worlds wisdom rested in its glory only to be seen when chosen. It was the Milky Way with dancing thoughts and intricate lines. 

 

She was a universe unto herself. 

Brilliant, stunning, full of mystery and mirth.  

She walked like only she knew the answer to a secret. Floating in the air, fully grounded in reality. 

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 Photography, Poetry

Love Like Love Is

Love like love is me mapping the stars across your body with my fingers and mouth. Connecting your unique scars and marks into a new pattern every night. 

 

Love like love is me draped over your body or you draped over mine. Soft hands gliding over skin and dragging through hair to soothe away whatever came before. 

 

Love like love is me catching your laugh in my mouth just to taste your happiness because there’s nothing more stunning than that moment of joy with you. 

 

Love like love is my lips skating over your cheeks to whisk away your tears. Wishing I could take all your pain and carry it until you regained your strength. 

 

Love like love is how you know the little things like how I take my coffee and how I drink my scotch. Because they fit the bigger picture of you loving me while I’m loving you. 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

“La Petite Mort”

Slowly, it built, then all at once. Until my back was arching off the bed, head thrown back, neck straining, wrist coming to my mouth to muffle the sounds.

As a deep pink flush worked its way down my body from the tops of my cheeks, down my neck, over my chest and torso and beyond…

Until I was offering you everything and drawing you closer with every move, every caress of my ever eager hands and mouth.

Every gasping breath, moan, and whimper of longing, leading to this one moment of almost painful bliss.

The color fading from my vision, sounds fading away as if I’m deaf, yet I can see, hear and feel it all so exquisitely.

I feel as if I’m dying but also that I am reborn. Alive, in the way that makes me want to drag my mouth over your skin in sweet thanks…kill me again won’t you lover? From now until our end.

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.