I wish I had vision so I could watch you
I wish I had candy so I could give to you
I wish I had hands so I could touch yours
I wish I had a voice so I could inspire you
I wish I had courage so I could court you
I wish I had the time so I could tell you
I wish I had a store so I could sell to you
I wish I had a pet so you could too
I wish I had a bruise so I could show you
I wish I had water so I could offer you
I wish I had directions so I could guide you
I wish I had style so I could compliment you
I wish I had grace so I could remind you
I wish I had a poem so I could share with you
If not today then maybe tomorrow
I can’t promise today
But I promise I’ll think of this tomorrow

Love arrives without a sound,
like the wind that wraps around—
not something chased, nor something planned,
but fate that holds us, hand in hand.

It doesn’t knock, it doesn’t wait,
it finds you when your soul’s awake.
When wounds are raw, yet hearts still yearn,
love appears so we can learn.

I dreamed of you before I knew,
a shadow soft, a faded view.
Your presence lingered in my mind,
a love I’d seek, yet could not find.

I see things others do not see,
a love that’s rooted, wild, and free.
Maybe we were both unsure,
but distance made us need you more.

The years apart weren’t lost in vain,
they taught us how to love through pain.
And now we stand where fate aligns,
your heart beats strong—forever mine.

I am the Shabbat lamb that was stuck in a pit
Who watched as many shepherds passed by as I cried out for help
But no one cared as they carried on their way
For I was but a hindrance unto them and their pleasure
For I was a spotted lamb,
I was nobody’s treasure
As I stared at the sky, I couldn’t help but to think that this was the end
Starving for life, as I withered to dust
Seeing the day turn to dusk
And dusk into night
Until the darkness blinded my sight
I had given up hope, and accepted my death
But just when all seemed to be lost
There came One, who’s face shone like that of the sun
He reached down and pulled me up from the pit
And threw me over His shoulder as He said, “come with me little lamb”
In awe, I asked Him his name and all He said was “I AM”
He took me away to a place so near, yet so far
And began to mend every wound, every scar
He fed me until I was healthy and fat
And turned me loose, to roam through His pasture
And whenever I start to wander astray
He comes running to lead the way back home
Who am I to deserve so lovely a shepherd?
Who am I that He would smile upon me with such pleasure?
A spotted lamb, but yet I am His treasure

Terror and rage fueled panic
Possesses all unfortunate enough
To be afflicted by a sudden loss.
With nothing to lose,
They take to the streets,
Demanding the scales of justice
Be tipped in their favor.
–
As the iron fist descends
Upon the masses,
A domineering voice proclaims
This to be a
Mere tantrum.
We’re directed back to our
Footballs and fictions.
–
Places once frequented
Without thought of danger or restriction
Suddenly have five or six things (more)
You need done beforehand
If need exists to utilize them.
Among patrons’ silent terror is read the memo,
“This is temporary. We’ll help you soon!”
–
You wake up from sleep
And go into autopilot,
Checking your phone for
Any notifications you missed
While you were sleeping.
Next to texts from mom and the alarm,
News outlets report suspension of law.
–
Nothing is the same anymore.
No longer is the everyday routine
You’ve taken comfort in promised.
You know you must be more vigilant,
But you put your phone down all the same.
“I’ll worry about it later”, you tell yourself
As you slumber five more minutes.

Pink Love
Pink is the color of Roses & the color of my babies Noses

Pink Posies bloom in Spring & my Lover gave me his Diamond Ring

Pink is Cotton Candy
Sticky on my Fingers
The Sun Set is Pink & My Gaze Lingers
Just us two here, a couple of Dreamers!

As the Children run Swiftly away in the Sand
A Pink Pooka Shell spins Softly in the palm of your Hand

All things Pink I surely do Love
The cheeks on my Sweetheart Oh Lovey Dove!

The Lips of my Love so soft and so Pink
My Lover teases Me with a Nod and a Wink

Pink is Pastel
Pink comes with Spring
Pink is a Mood
Hey Ho!
Bling Bling!

What does it mean to have your dreams come true? I’m from a small town and my entire life I have heard “you can’t.” “You’re from a small town, it’s impossible.” Well, I am here to tell you, it is possible. If you were to ask any 10 people on the street, they would say “I wish I had chased my dreams when I was younger.” Everything has its own way of happening on its own time. And I am living proof. My first novel will be published on May 18th of this year, I have began to sing in public again after several years, I have someone who loves me for me and doesn’t look at me like an object and my family has seen my smile returned to me. Thank you The Unsealed for helping me achieve my writing dreams and I can’t wait to see what happens next!

Many a first kiss
I have had during dating
None compare to one

Kissing my ex-wife
For the date that will go down
In my history

We were looking at
Two water turtles sunning
On the rocks of the

Confluence of two
Rivers – the Sacramento
And American

I imagined those
Two turtles were her and me
On that summer day

Getting romantic
Watching boats on the river
Seeing the drawbridge

Take their stature in
Yachts too tall to clear the bridge
Now they safely pass

My ex-wife and I
Sat on a wooden bench on
The wooden boardwalk

Old Sacramento
For both tourists and locals
And those on a date

Those such as ourselves
We felt comfortable in
Each other’s presence

Our arms got closer
Shyly meeting to see if
There’s a connection

Our hands met and touched
Interlaced fingers, pure joy
Nothing else like it

I want this moment
To last for my entire
Lifetime with her hand

Oh, it gets better
Our waiting lips meet for our
Satiating kiss

It was more than that
I felt ecstatic and high
There were fireworks

Behind my blue eyes
Really blue, not just my name
So many colors

Those pyrotechnics
In my imagination
So very vibrant

Filled with so much joy
Is this the best moment of
My entire life?

My present, past, and
The rest of my existence?
I can’t know for sure

Eighteen years later
It still came close to the best
But graduating

Summa cum laude
Was probably the moment
Of my best triumph

But damn, that kiss came
Pretty darn close to the best
Snippet of my life

Five years ago, we
Separated, then divorced
But our first kiss is

Indelibly etched
Seared into the recesses
Of my existence

Will any first kiss
Ever be better than the
One I had with her?

I have had many
In the past five years
None of them come close

To the pure joy shared
Between my ex-wife and me
She has since moved on

And now I sit here
Crafting this haiku series
Wondering if it

Will soon be my turn
To have a comparable
Kiss with someone else

Create something built
To last more than thirteen years
Give me joy again

Fleeting, but oh so fine
Is that illusive spirit joy.
Like finding gold in a mine
When expecting only alloy.
Difficult to cultivate.
Impossible to fabricate.
Though to many it’s innate,
It’s a puzzle trying to locate.

I’ve seen it in a child’s eye
While discovering new life –
A beetle, bear, or dragonfly,
The wonder is so rife.
I found it in a hummingbird,
When I was virtuous and young.
We spoke not a single word,
But to our souls we sung.

It grabs me by the heart
When music takes the reigns.
Of this world I am a part
As I dance in rhythmic refrains.
Classical, rock, or blues –
They all push me past the pain.
Each note that’s spun subdues
The ruckus in my brain.

Sometimes it slips inside me,
With that funny feeling – love,
Consuming me with giddy glee
Like the laughing stars above.
It warms me to my core
To hold my beloved close and tight.
Always hungry, wanting more
Before the moment’s taken flight.

But if you want to find it,
Don’t strain or look too hard.
Regardless of your charm or wit,
You may have to drop your guard,
For joy is free to those who open
Their head and heart and soul.
Then you must throw a little hope in
To capture it in whole.

I can barely breathe—
the weight of this world is suffocating,
pressing against my soul,
choking the hope out of me.

I hear my ancestors weeping,
their cries carried in the wind,
echoing through time,
through the blood-soaked soil they once stood upon.
They fought, they bled,
so we could rise, so we could be free,
so we could have a chance at a life they only dreamed of.
But look at us now—
divided, shattered, drowning in hate.

I want to scream,
I want to cry until the heavens shake,
until the earth opens and swallows this pain whole.
So much beauty in this world,
yet it is poisoned with rage,
tainted with the hands of those who refuse to see
that we are all flesh, all breath, all bone.

This cannot be what the Creator intended—
for us to build walls instead of bridges,
to raise our fists instead of our hearts,
to bury love beneath the weight of our differences.

Why can’t we love?
Why can’t we see that none of us are staying?
That no skin color, no wealth, no power
will save us from the grave?
In the end, we all return to the dust.
So why do we waste this gift of life on hatred?

I close my eyes,
and I pray that one day,
we will wake up and see each other
not as enemies, not as strangers,
but as souls—
woven from the same light,
created to love,
not to destroy.

There are love stories written in trembling hands,
inked in the quiver of first kisses,
sealed in the breathless hush of two souls colliding,
and I have read them all.

I have listened to the whispered nostalgia
of friends tracing their heartbreaks like constellations,
each one a wound they wear with pride—
because at least they got to bleed for something.
At least they got to hold love in their hands,
even if it crumbled like ash.

But where is the story for the ones who never got their first love?
The ones who sat in the audience,
watching the grand performance of devotion,
but never once felt the warmth of the stage lights?
Where is the song for the girl who has never been sung about?

I am that girl.
The one who was never the frantic “I can’t live without you.”
Never the name whispered in the dark to calm a racing heart.
Never the soft morning gaze of someone who sees the rest of their life in my eyes.

And it hurts.
God, it hurts.

To know that someone once ached for him,
that he has been loved in a way I never will be.
That he has a past where he was the sun,
while I am left wondering if I am even a flickering candle.

And I tell myself maybe love is coming.
Maybe one day, someone will look at me
the way poets describe—
with hunger, with reverence, with trembling hands reaching for something sacred.

But what if they don’t?
What if I am the space between heartbeats,
the silence between love songs,
the person who is always there but never the one?

What if I leave this world having never been
the reason someone couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep,
couldn’t breathe without saying my name?

What if I die and the world keeps turning,
unmoved by the absence of someone
who was never truly held?

And maybe that’s the part that breaks me the most.

Not just that I have never been adored,
but that I don’t know if I ever will be.

It was a beautiful day when I talked to you
That was a great feeling of something new
It was a beautiful day when I heard your voice
One that I wonder if I had a choice
It was a beautiful day when we met
A beautiful day that took away my breathe
Those were beautiful days I visited
I reminisce and sometimes I miss it
Those were beautiful times I looked into your eyes
What pretty pictures imprinted in my mind
Those were beautiful things we shared
I just wanted to tell you here
You were my everything

He started to mimic the cries of a child
The birds started their clicking sounds
Warnings in another language
Gun shots in the far distance
Still not home

feb 3
a journal on pursuit.
what if you did? what if you just kept going? what if that dream of yours wasn’t actually too big? that things start aligning, making sense. what if? most people look at what if in a negative light but what if something fucking incredible happened? what if you do in the future, in this moment, for the future? instead of the reminiscent ‘what if’, the optimistic version. perhaps there is no negative outcome of the pursuit of anything. as even failure has its benefits. even failure is a step towards achievement. as some movement is better than none at all. even when its redirection. even when it feels like the world is rejecting you, you are still on the path you are meant to be on, as long as that dream of yours goes nowhere.

truly, I believe everyone has desires deep within them that will never go anywhere. no matter if you try to supplement this desire by something arguably more ‘realistic’, it will never go away. nothing can ever scratch the itch of a dream you have except the pursuit of said dream itself. the more you hesitate, the more you cast fear and doubt on this dream, the farther it will feel. yet the stronger pull you have towards it. the more you tell yourself it isn’t possible, that it’s stupid to think you could have that, the more you will create a pull towards it. so why suppress it? why spend a life going after things you don’t truly want in hopes your truest desires will be fulfilled through supplementation?

most people say they wanted to be something, and decided otherwise as it didn’t seem practical. those people are not truly happy or fulfilled in what they chose to do instead. they are living a life of phony, of pretend. the active decision to not pursue their truest self. how can you argue with your own truth? as if your soul doesn’t reveal its own truth, but your mind will for it?

for years, I could feel exactly in my soul what I wanted out of life. I wished to be aloof in a beautiful way, out in the world, authentically, organically connecting with people of all origins and finding a way to impact communities globally. I always wanted to be a famous writer. to spend as much time as possible creating. I’ve always had an adventure spirit, and a creative mind. I’ve always had a fear or not seeing enough, experiencing enough, meeting enough people, creating enough memories. since I was young, fomo has kept me up at night. the fear of missing out. my parents would always tell me, “the day is over, you can do more tomorrow.” but that answer never silenced the desire in my brain to do as much as I could. I’ve always been so hungry for life. it has always came naturally to want more, to challenge each day, to search for beauty in every single day.

admittedly, I have spent a lot of time pursuing other passions, hoping that my truest passion would go away on its own. how foolish of me. to silence my own voice. to suppress my own purpose and wonder why I cannot find purpose elsewhere? that nothing else in the world has felt like I’m meant to do it, makes sense why now. I thought I wouldn’t be able to be out in the world on my own, so instead I got a job to travel and make money doing that, which sounds ideal. but it doesn’t scratch the itch enough. it isn’t enough. it is not the authentic, organic, traveling I am craving. and it will never be enough no matter how many times I try to tell myself that is the only way I’ll be capable of what I want to do, an easier way out of what I actually want to be out in the world doing. I have always written, but have always put it on the backburner. I have always told myself that it isn’t good enough, that in no way could I be a successful poet, writer, on my own. that I had to have a normal job and it could always just be a passion on the side.

but these thoughts consume me.

these passions consume me.
that’s how I know they are meant to be pursued relentlessly. no matter what I try to do instead, there will always be a nagging voice in the back of my mind containing my truth, begging for my acknowledgment. begging for my honest effort, and full effort towards it. as nothing will work out for me until I am on the path of truth. the versions of me that has tried to suppress my truth are the versions of me that keeps feeling rejection from the universe in different forms.

so, that feeling, urge, deep in your soul will never go away. trust it. respect it. chase it. spend your life not only in acknowledgement of it, but in pursuit of it.

Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Can I ask a few questions?
From different angles,
Different times &
Different spaces,
As my mind processes
This energy I’m emitting.
Looking for my reflection, perception
Always looking different, the
Human I’m becoming is
Constantly growing.While Looking
Through different angles,
Different times & different spaces.
Acknowledgement of growth
So I ask my mirrored self,
Where else can we go?
With the space & time.
What are we gonna do
With them both?
To create a better brighter image.
Mirror mirror on the wall
Why and how do
We reflect these images.

Dear, Unsealers:

I know, I’m a day behind as it’s the second day of February.

But it’s time to welcome in February all the same. After a whirlwind December and a long, drawn-out January.

This is the shortest month on the calendar. Twenty-eight days. Here’s hoping this month isn’t nearly as eventful as the last one was.

With that being said, it’s time to welcome in the new month…

Welcome, February!

After the longest January imaginable
The shortest month of the year opens the door

Twenty-eight new days ahead
Days of love, kindness, and compassion abound
Honoring the saints, Brigid of Kildare and Valentine

Of reminding ourselves
We’re in this world together
Through all of the twists and turns that come along

Days of finding voices and verses
With the Poetic Summer fast approaching

Even if the weather outside still reminds us of winter
There’s hope of brighter days coming our way

A blank canvas for the month ahead
One that goes by in the blink of an eye