What of the truth…

What of the truth when believed it a lie?

What of the darkness when seen from the light?

____Is a line erased still something that I wrote?

____I have no faith, but I’ve not given up hope.


What is a treasure when there’s nothing left to find?

What of the day when thinking of the night?

____I’m here but I don’t feel it so I’m gone, I suppose, but

____At the end of the day there’s only one thing that I know–


Even far away, some things still feel so close.


If I could sit and ponder

If I could sit and ponder

____from day until the wolves called yonder,

I’d remain here on this window sill,

____my deepest thoughts in constant blunder.


I’d think and think and think some more

____in search of truths for five and four score,

Then I’d cry myself to sleep

____for a life unlived cannot be restored.

a shelter for the light

My heart,

___it pined so its needles were ground and stuffed into my pipe.

My mind,

___it wandered so on a leash it was as we strolled into the night.

My soul,

___it broke out in the darkest of hours and refused to ever be quiet.

___And though, in the darkest of hours is when it came alive,

My body,

___it grew hale because it knew its purpose was a shelter for the light.

Does it ask you to jump?

Go on,
___strike the gavel!

Sentence yourself to the consequences of conditioning you’ve endured!

Be one with the lamb!

Go on,
___find your herd!

But, first–

Tell me,
___what have you learned?

Do you feel peace when the wind whispers its soliloquies?

As you look into the water does it ask you to jump?

The only distinction–

Tell me,
___who is it that you trust?

The poetry of life

Life’s poetry is read in the veins of the fallen leaf, in the scent of a distant lover blowing in the breeze. Listen for her lines in the rolling thunder. Feel the emotion of her verse as the unwanted fly takes liking to your shoulder. That little rock over there? He thinks he’s a boulder. Can’t you see? That’s the beauty of life. True reality lies in the eyes of the beholder.


I want a lot of things. I want to read. I want to write. I wanna call up a homie, spark a bowl, sit back & talk about life. I want to fast forward time, and I want it to rewind. I don’t want to search, but there’s things I need to find. I want to quit trying. I want to be content with where I’m going, where I’m at without judgement or strife. I want to be alone. Why won’t somebody hit my line? I want him to text me first. I want a commitment. I want to be promiscuous, our relationship inconspicuous. I wanna listen to the rain. I need some sunshine. I want to travel but… where should I reside? I want to save money. There’s so many things I need to buy! I don’t want to know the truth. I find comfort in believing lies. I want to be happy. My best work is the fruit of depression. I want to be a teacher. Too bad I’m busy learning a lesson. I want to be me. I want to be free. I really want a cookie, but I’d rather eat the dough. You know what I want more than anything at all? I want everyone to know my name while I remain unknown.