What’s your rhythm?
Today, I awoke thinking about mine
My rhythm, designed by The Divine

That said:

It’s a rhythm of love
Created by The One Above

It’s a rhythm of joy
Authentic, not a ploy

It’s a rhythm of peace
May it never cease

It’s a rhythm of patience
Open to innovation

It’s a rhythm of kindness
Graced by divineness

It’s a rhythm of goodness
Painted on a canvas

It’s a rhythm of faithfulness
And large doses of gratefulness

It’s a rhythm of gentleness
Created not to dismantle this

It’s a rhythm of self-control
Gentle but bold

It’s a rhythm of the Fruit of The Spirit
With me? Let’s hear it…

It’s a rhythm that’s introspective and fun
Moving to the soulful beat of the drum

It’s a rhythm of flow
What’s your tempo?

The Fog

The sky was wet
No drops
You could still smell the fall of it all on the blades of green
I can still hear its naked skin running across the forest
The crackling of the branches sounded like his jaw clicking
I’d open my mouth, trying to mimic his steps
The fear convinced me of what was getting closer
The vicious fog man
Grandiosity in his carnivorous form
Go home.

Art for another
Poetic inspiration,
Took dedication.

the day you begin at your lowest is the day they need you to smile,
to “look like you want to be here,” to put on the mask,
so you don’t ruin his day, so you don’t make her uneasy.
honesty is selfish, so you force the grin,
the dam holding back grief as it threatens to flood,
an apology for daring to express a neurotic emotion,

intrusive thoughts rush through cracks,
the fracture in understanding reality where you don’t know how to accept what’s true,
having faith in the dark of your closed eyes that you will see light when you open them again,
these truths that shape your identity and guide your actions,
an inundation that leaves you horrified by what belongs to you,
until you fortify for mind with a pill
as i slip into comfortable delusion, breathe shallow,
my medicine tastes like lobotomy.

the hollow platitudes of condolences that feel obligated to speak by the collective obligation to speak,
“hope you feel better”
“you sound crazy.”
pressing at the seams of your fragile control.
it thrives on this quiet, this forced calm,
i’m impatient.

makes you wonder where the clear water went,
if it was ever there at all,
makes you feel like you had it coming during the day you’re at your lowest,
when you’re meant to lead a presentation for your boss- pace your self and inhale deep so they can’t hear tremble in your voice,
when you’re meant to join your family for dinner- running through multiple choice scenarios in an attosecond to formulate the intricate lie you’ll tell your mother in lieu of causing her worry,
when you have no thoughts to share as tour body puppeteers your actions to fulfill your daily routine,
somewhere deep within no matter how hidden,
a forcefully forgotten memory of trauma is randomly triggered and you lose control, embarrassing yourself by letting see the face behind the mask,
the pain behind the smile,
makes you feel like you deserve to hurt*** yourself

Conversation for reciprocation
But don’t follow my suggestions.
I’m self healing self medicating.
To follow this you’re gonna need
A deeper understanding.
I have a few books I recommend you read.
If you can understand it
Let me know what you think.
I was brought to the brink.
Had to broaden my prospective.
Then became empathetic,
Eccentric to the public.
With these feelings exerted
Comes exertion.
Had to explore while reciprocating
Information & understand,
“The Journey is the Destination”.

I use to hate writing
But I think it was the action.
Now, I’m writing with
My thumb, never cared for penmanship
Or my grammar & punctuation.
I liked drawing, took my time with it.
Now I’m creating different images.
Writing these words
From past experiences.
You can see this projection.
Working on a new project.
My prerogative turned poetic.
Forget the pen, man, ship. These thoughts,
You can hear & see this plot.

What is it that you seek?
What is it that you saw?
You should never listen to my wicked crystal ball.
What is it that you seek?
What is it that you saw?
You should never listen to my wicked Crystal Ball.
Have you seen the crystal ball?
Have you heard the souls scream trapped in her cloudy walls?
Everything you love gone before it even happens,
nothing left of your soul among the cold dark ashes.
They say fools wish to be free,
until they’re in a free fall…
Fools gamble time and the ball she takes it all
‘Cause the crystal is a cheat,
the crystal is a liar,
The crystal is a frozen world of ice and of fire. To live in a lie the price is the truth,
to be frozen in time the price is your youth. But you knew, it never tricked you,
You let it seduce you, left scars on your skin-as if it ever needed you.
Some always come crawling,
some may escape her call.
But you should never listen to my wicked Crystal Ball…
What is it that you seek?
What is it that you saw?
You should never listen to my wicked crystal ball…
You should never listen to my wicked crystal ball.

A young boy sits in a wooden chair
Gazing forward
A ball of crystal perched before him
Almost invisible
It warps and clouds what lay behind it
He knows there will be a price
But he must try
He wants to know,
He has to know.
He gazes into its prism chamber
And it tells.
When he lifts his head, his breath taken away
The awe of the secrets told to him
Fade
When he sees his reflection
He sees that he is no longer the same man
But old, so old.
The ball has told him what he wished to know
But he had to pay the price of time
He walks away, as many have before,
Feeling cheated
Feeling like it all went by so fast
If he could only have another chance
If he could only get that time back
But he can’t
Time is the only thing you have
And the only thing you can never have
It is yours, spent
And the crystal ball will steal your time
The crystal will steal your life.

The hot, oily aquatic liquid begin to build up in my eyes as I glanced at the night’s sky;

A moment’s glance and I saw only a single star;

Pondering for a while, more appeared before me;

How lovely this world of mines, that even in the heart’s darkest moments the light is still present

Dear Unsealers…

It’s November 1st. It’s surreal as it’s seventy degrees outside right now.

Sixty days are left in 2024. This month is an eventful one, from Election Day, all the way down to Thanksgiving.

Though it doesn’t feel like November, I wrote my welcome to this month anyway.

Remember, remeber the month of November

60 days left to go in 2024
This month has arrived through the spooky door

Honoring saints, the dearly departed and veterans
A time to give thanks for what we have
And to set the path for the next four years

With the last 30 day month here and now
The clock ticks down, the last days of 38
39 is fast approaching

With Croatia and A Poetic Journey in the distance
It’s time plot a forward course

As there’s time to remember, remember
Before the month of November, gives way

To the year end’s mad dash, known as December

Trotting along,
without a care.
My dearest friend,
My horse named Bear.

His hair so black,
It matches the night.
Standing so tall,
In all of his might.

If you listen real close,
You can hear him run.
His hooves strike the ground
Like the beat of a drum.

I could watch him all day,
I’d stand here and stare.
My dearest friend,
My horse named Bear.

I’ve been there for you,
that’s for certain.
But let’s take a look,
behind the curtain.

You were there for me,
After I lost my Dad.
You kept me happy,
When my world seemed sad.

All of my children
have rode on your saddle.
You helped me raise them,
and that was a battle.

Through all of the hard times,
You’ve always been there.
My dearest friend,
My horse named Bear.

It’s been so hard,
to see you in pain.
I’ve cried so much,
My tears are like rain.

I know in my heart,
What I have to do.
But how on Earth,
Do I say goodbye to you?

You’re more than an animal,
You’re more than a pet.
You’re a part of our family,
that we’ll never forget.

These years with you,
Have been so great!
But its time for you to go,
to an even better place.

And I know one day,
I’ll see you there.
My dearest friend,
My horse named Bear.

-Poem written for my mother-in-law, Susan, and her horse, Bear, for his day of passing.

Time is expensive,
I’m carful who I spend it with.
If I choose to to splurge,
I’ll want to buy some time to
Spend with you.
I have an urge to purge
& surge towards you.
Now I’m submerged in your aroma.
Hot like a sauna.
Had to pause for a second,
Spend a few more minutes,
Then add up the hours we spent.

Heartfelt for love,
Optimistic about it.
Persuading the scent of it,
Ecstatic! About the expression of this.

Stepping away from everyone. I’ve
Lost temper, I cope with isolation.
My self destruction, ironically.
Helped me, come to self healing,
Self awareness, & self acceptance.
I choose to live this way,
It’s your choice to partake.
Sometimes our mistakes
Bring us closer, to our destination.
Comming to a crossroad,
These words are put together
For an explanation. Just don’t expect
It not, to come to an end.
With time, comes expiration,
Feelings are outdated.
But can be experienced from time to time
From a memory stored within the mind.
Energy flows through the Crevices
Under the cranium, through
Our central nervous system.
Can be Intensified through meditation,
Practice persistence, not perfection.