Stormy Sea- the madness of depression

Image result for stormy sea art

(The Gulf Stream by Winslow Homer 1899)


Asphalt whispers, of buzzed bees.

Who flew too fast in search of knees,

Quicksand beaches, hide titanic eggs.

While ostrich feathered rainbows, served the kegs.

‘The Captain, must always stay with his ship!’

Screamed the first mate, as she cracked her whip.

We’re all drowning in someone else’s crisis.

Climbing like monkeys up the community ficus.

So who else can save us, except for ourselves?

Hard lessons two-stepped, inside of a bluish hell!

Let the music play as we sink our own boats,

I’ll be in the corner, singing parenthesis in quotes.

Stay in the saddle with your lassoed otter.

Ride waves for 8 seconds, with your chin just above water.

Only to wake up unexpectedly parched.

With everything white, and perfectly starched.







Just short of tenderness

But right past anguish,

I bide my days.

Awaiting one single word

Falling victim

To your blase


A love

That is torment

Found as my fate

Prayers go unanswered

Full sails deflate

Weighed down by tears

And achored by hate

Your indifference

Murders my winds

I log by waters

No longer to voyage

No longer to breathe

Long away are the sighs

I am not carelessly free

Heart laden by rocks

Grave marked by fishes

Who dirge bubbles for me.



I drift silently forgotten…

To the bottom of its sea.






An apology, an explanation, and a hug

It has been a few months since I’ve even logged into my site here,  or even allowing myself to be present and try to feel my thoughts into song, parameter or rhyme.

For that, I owe each of you an apology. Each of you deserve it. I owe it to each of you who have been so gracious, concerned, and who supported me and my erratic writings encouraging me forward.  I left. I turned my light out and left you all in the dark.

I am sorry.

But I didn’t abandon you. I’ve carried all of your inspiration and kindness inside of me, knowing that when I was stronger I would be back.

The last quarter of 2016 for me, was hellish.  I know it was for a lot of you too.

I struggled with everyday life in just trying to keep my precious words of creativity in harmony with in real life situations and living.  I was unable to do it. I was unable to remain open,  and had to pull myself back. I had to conserve the energy that I was bleeding out without replacement, and I had to find my center again.

I think we all go through these cycles of open and closed. When words pull emotions out of the darkness inside of us to share and release it, but the reality hits that we’re not yet ready to face those emotions. Or we pull out monsters and hidden truths we’d forgotten about and it’s more than we bargained for. But we try anyway.

We push when we should hold. For our own sanity, we should hold sometimes.  But it’s what we do as wordsmiths, we push the boundaries of our limits to go further. It’s what makes us better. It is what propels us to the stars and beyond, but it also can be our undoing. Being stubborn and not willing to give up, we press and push forward when we should hold.

Most of you are way more skilled and proficient in navigating the emotions that comes with deep sharing that writing allows us to do, and maybe you won’t understand what I’m even talking about because you are so much strong than I. But if you really write from the heart and the center of that darkness, I feel you will understand this more than I am even capable of explaining.

I can’t promise my writing has returned to like it was before. But strings of sentences to untold stories, dorky antidotes, and musings are bubbling and tickling to be seen and shared.

Thank you for staying with me. The kind words you’ve given and sent over the past few months have meant more than I can even express. I am slowly working my way through correspondence and will respond to you soon.

Hugs* for you all!



Side note-  John Bender is no longer lost and has found me.  🙂


























































Lost Little Fool

I am nothing,

If anything at all,

A lost little fool

Without you.

It’s is true.

With you

I am a fool,

Your fool.

A glorious fool,

But not

A forgotten fool.

Find me.

Deliver me.

No longer suffer me,

Foolishly wafting

Without you.

My heart

Being brave,

Can no longer

Face your absence.

I’ve imagined

Time without you.

I detest it.

I despise me.

Without you

I ache.

Without you,

I bleed emotion.

Without you,

I am lost…

A lost little fool






Through the misted meadow’ed window of my weary soul,

I heard the knocking laughter from it’s troll.


He cackles and bleats at my failing demise,

My hope losing grip, my heart fraying in perpetual agonize.


No matter how hard his presence I try to leave,

He creeps behind me at an amazing gimping speed.


I cannot shake his rotted humid breath,

Matching the stench of my secrets, that I’d hide until death.


My nightmare resurrects under new pseudonyms,

Why is he back? For years I have not seen nor heard of him.


I’ll burn his goats bridges, in a huge hell bonfire,

A last ditch hail Mary to save my measly crumbling empire.


I will not leave a trail back to me so easily found,

Pushing the notorious demon back into his lair up underground.


He feasts on my idle indecisions and carefree laughter,

Ambushing my joy, is what he greedily lust after.


He has been stalking me for years on end,

Disrespectful of my life, he snidely spits to condescend.


Once I have shook his hand, with no option to run,

Fear if he embraces me, my inner light darkens and forever is shun.


His darkness is familiar, and in it comes unintended comforts,

He peddles a numbness, where my feelings can slumber.


But he is mistaken that I am that easily won,

For my rebirth into the Universe is only just begun.


So I will fight against my surrendering nature, to rally against him,

I will win this war, with celestial light’s ardor and an army of enlightened seraphim.