You never let me learn
From my mistakes.
Instead you bred more of
Your own fear.

You never let me grow
From my own roots.
Instead you shed more of
Your snake skin.

You never understood growth
Because your parents never let you truly grow, child.
Instead you learned how to grip – to cling…
You held on to everything for far too long.

You ended my process.
You squelched my pain.
You became an emperor
A tyrant…
You ended YOUR own reign.

What you do has consequences
What do you don’t do has repercussions all the same.
What you do has supposed intention
What you don’t do is see your blatant blame.

I admit that I am not perfect.
I admit that I am at fault.
I admit that I am responsible.
But only for my own parts – I won’t rot.

I admit that I am prideful.
I admit that I have strong beliefs.
I admit that I have high standards-
Then again, I welcome admittance to any defeat.

I am strong in this way, this paradoxical way
I am strong because I know who I am
I am resourceful and instinctual and calm-
Most of the time-
I admit that my day-to-day carries change.

Regardless, you must know you hurt me.
If you don’t, well then here is my truth.
You left your heart behind your mind
And you let your fears rule you.
You thought that I was so hard to find…
Yet all I did was bathe with the moon.

You posed your revenge
Not knowing who I am
And your mistake was in that moment…
I offered you a choice
You brought more fear
And in a while you will be fully dormant.

My Pillow

My Pillow

My pillow is worn out.
Deliriously cashing its paycheck…
Where sick and vacation
Means overtime hours.

My pillow is worn out.
Holding all my dreams…
Where owls try to feed on cats
And 1964 is frequently visited.

My pillow is worn out.
Like a heroin addict…
It’s veins are collapsing
And it just wants to nod off.

My pillow is worn out.
But I need it to nod off…
When I’m worn out
From all the overtime.

My pillow is worn out.
We are in a codependent relationship…
Trust me though, it’s healthy-
We make sense together,
We are there for one another,
We create new worlds together!

We need each other.
Like these words need

The Wild Within: Complete



We don’t control it
We make it appear to disappear
We put it out
Realizing its power
But in truth
We just distance ourselves from it.

It looks like
It feels like
It tells us it’s gone
But the fire is always there…

It’s not a matter of how bright
It’s just a matter of how contained.

Reblogged Writing for Fire Challenge:


Package Deal


I am your leftovers.
I am what you consumed
I am what you threw out
I am your ideal convenience
Your added sugar
Your cheap labor
Your nutty and granola
Wild Child.

I am your leftovers.
I am your quick and easy snatch
I am your powdered doughnut
I am your fresh fruit smoothie
Your parts
Your whole
Your mountain and pile of
Scape Goat Crisps.

I am your leftovers.
I am your creation of trash
I am out of sight
I am out of mind
Your shadow in slavery
Your illusion of progress
You packaged my perfection
And I am called a deal.

I am your leftovers.
Keep feeding me
And I will keep feeding you.

Teach Me To Be Simple

Teach Me To Be Simple
“Grace is the beauty of form under the influence of freedom.” -Friedrich Schiller

I’m not trying to be a martyr.
I’m trying to be myself.
I feel the weight of this world…
It’s duality and projection and
Reflections of chaos and confusion
…And I’m just trying to be me.

But I feel the burden of the bees
I feel the burden of the workers
Trying to maintain comfort
Catering and offering catharsis to the queen.
I feel the burden of our connections
Our karmas, our time in timelessness-
I feel things most cannot see.

A part of me wishes it all away
I wish not to be.
But that is my ego
Trying to hold on to the me
It’s the ego experiencing
That none of this is actually free.

So none of it is real in my mind
What’s real is YOU and ME.
The bees teach us to just BE…
To breathe and to live simply.
Still…the complexity has be
Come disjointed and over
Whelming, unfortunately.

The depths of our souls
They tell us who we are
And yet many rely on sense.
Somehow my senses tell me
That everything is
Simply a dream.

Image courtesy of Suriya Kankliang/


Photo on 2012-04-08 at 03.29 #2

“If we knew each others secrets, what comfort we could find.” -John Churton Collins


I am,
Medicine in the peace.

The pieces form a puzzle,
A One
Easily figured out
In its parts…

It’s apart
You and our source.

Death’s Masks

Happy Halloween! 🙂


We all wear masks. Don’t try to hide it. Don’t try to deny that truth. I know you’re wearing one right now reading this post because some part of you, I know, is dying. And one of your new masks is waiting to be worn for the Halloween party this year. Most of you may be living – 98% to 99%% of you is on top of your game, totally in tune with your own rhythm, completely balanced, at one with yourself and at peace with the world (as crazy as it may be out there). Still, sometimes your birth control fails and new birth awaits. You totally have the choice of abortion – and I am totally pro-choice – but in order to have even the slightest chance at birthing something new, some part of you must be dying.

Death's Masks pic.1The Life/Death/Life cycle has been coming up for me a…

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Love Is A Weapon


Love is a weapon
It pierces you with its light
It bubbles over you
The heat destroying
And making all One.

Love is a weapon
I use it when all else fails
I wish I could relate to it
And freely wield it – like a hammer to a nail.

Love is a weapon
The only thing so pink, so expanding
Over your home…
It anchors you – your being, your body, your heart, and your soul.

Love is a weapon
Powerful, it touches us all
No matter what

Trying to fight
Love as a weapon

It carries hurt…

And still,

Check out:

SOLD: Recipe For Healing


Not heard
So extremes are enacted:
Scream or go silent.

Not seen
So extremes are reactive:
Deny or disappear.

Already wounded
With a world’s wrong recipe
On how to help heal. To calm.

Step One: Blame the victim.
The wound expands, bleeding
For its scream to be seen.

Step Two: Discern transparency.
Manipulate for a self-service
The system scrambles to caulk its cracks.

Step Three: To the Board of Trustees.
To the wolves with a pack of cigarettes,
And the antidote to their own mistrust disease.

Step Four: Create a new story.
Mix egg whites, blend yellow with black pepper,
Add the cream of the crop-
Depending on the season of expenditures.

Step Five: Change of season.
It’s happened, and it’s not in your control-
It’s time to let go and to trust.

Step Six: Faultiness finds fault.
Neither yours, nor mine, nor others.
It’s time to see the side mirror, find peace.

Step Seven: Magic transfers power.
The wolves hand over their creation for all
Their destruction offers space to rebuild.

Step Eight: Clear the spiders
Who live in the cracks of your car
Webs are indeed closer than they appear.

Step Nine: Accept no blame.
Stitch the wound with your grief
All the pain, not forgotten, can find relief.

Remember who you are
Remember where you come from
And write a new recipe with strength.

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles Photography at