Art, Poetry, Sacred Space

All my life
I live each day as if it were my last.

Savor every morsel. Every bite.  I choose to have a blast. 
Nonstop. In the moment, moving extra fast.

I go hard. Making it count. 
From the start living out loud – taking the scenic route. 

I turn it up.
Throw it down.
Twisting and shouting 
Till’ I pass out, sound asleep 

 all the fun I keep… inside. 

I live for the nighttime;
after midnight I shine.

Top of the witching hour,
my super power is staying up all evening empowered by the moonshine
 sun bright – Loving light. 

Going to sleep when the sun comes up…
Not a morning person except when I have to fill up my cup…

I make it extra strong, shots for all, by the seat of my pants
I dance and give it away happily for free, hitting romance sharply. 

I am smartly
Going long on the field, all for the love,

I present tough but inside, I’m a big pile of mush.
Yes, I live for the rush.

My five minutes of fame
Take all that adrenaline straight to the brain.
I am not ashamed.
My life will not be lived in vain 
On fire, I am the flame I feign 

Of course, I’ve always lived this way.  
On the edge.  About to leap.  

Pick a parachute. 
I’ve got plenty ready to go, deep and wide 
all across the board my mindlessly
making moves as I be 
shaking grooves on this moody ride.

Playing the good tunes twice just for 
the sake of feeling more alive.  

Tapping into my blood line. 
I hunt blind
and gather up what I find in my dreams to speak my beliefs. 

My subconscious screams to be 
living out its own schemes. 

On my own terms, 
I had to learn. When it’s all said and undone 

I’ve got nothing left to prove  

Except that if you’re not happy in the space that you are in… 
you gotta make moves. 


Even the word doesn’t look right. 
(And they never do) Bruises.

It’s hard to spell. Hard to say. 
And they are hard to see, too. 

They come and go, easily, 
in ways you’re not used to lines bleeding.

Like what the fuck, where did that just come from, 
Did I fuck myself up? Last night?
Is this what getting old’s like?
Was I alright? Did somebody bite me…
or did I just live up to my own false sense of hype 
and knock my knee into the dresser in the night? 

Silly me.  

Maybe it was my fault? 
Maybe I hurt myself? 
On purpose? Or in self-defense, hard to tell.

Battling your own mind is a hard sell,  
at $150 an hour to talk to someone, hell 
I’d rather just buy more pills 
and numb the swell – dumb down this welling
up, dreaded knot in my throat, that starts to creep in. 

Blood shot eyes deepen to reveal, yes it’s true. 
I’m not weak. 
And I’m not unwell.  
But I’ve definitely been beat to hell. 

Bruises heal in time, still I know 
this dull ache won’t always feel so loud in my bones 
like it’s punching you in the stomach 
every time you sit. 

A constant reminder of why we feel the need 
to settle for a bruising to begin with 

When we am so afraid to get hurt 
that we stay in a the same place – 
You’re only hurting your self worth I’m afraid. 


Eating chocolate in bed at midnight
after you already brushed your teeth.
Making bacon at 4am just because you can cheat.

Eating peanut butter no spoon straight from the jar
and cookie dough with raw egg, I’m still alive so far.

Doing your taxes …
four months late …
for the last two years 
and still not owing a dime.

Having to plan to waste time. 
with no time to waste. 

Creating safe space. 

Shedding dead skin. Not having to always win.

Reinventing your face every few years.
I’m definitely adulting a bit too hard these days, it appears. 

Rafiki Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely with your snuggly strength:
Your bark does bite the sharply spoken bray,
And yes, your leash has all too short a length. 

Sometime too sweet, your eyes of heaven wine,
And soft is his gold complexion silky;
And every hair so fair sometime defines,
Your tongue and heart to match your coat milky. 

But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose esteem when over years you age .
Nay, shall death separate us from our graves,
You’ve been the best friend I can possibly crave. 

So long as men can breathe, our eyes will meet,
Long lives friendship my little rafiki. 

What am I going to do with you  

I don’t know what to do with you –
My muse, you schooled me, 
So beautifully, and a bit unruly

Now, in hindsight, it doesn’t amuse me quite 
Like it used to, smoothly 

See you blew me right over, cooly 
I fell for you, and your beauty 
When almost instantly you turnkeyed 
me, a bit rudely 

I dove in, making plans, 
growing roots in to a tree
Mistakenly carelessly, 

I believed in the musing of love – 
stupid me.

The thought of keeping you, fooled me, 
now the pursuit is no longer newly, and
I’m on a loosing streak, read:
You and I are living proof
that life isn’t always fair, foolery. 

It never is, the truth is now cruelly
forever etched on our personal movie 
narrative so brutally. 

I wish you loved me absolutely 
but you’re only here to do your job, 
to bemuse me 

And yet I can’t stop coming in for a closer looksie at 
the mirrored flame, playing with fire always wooed me.

My brain still screaming, bewildered amusingly
“Pick me, pick me, I’m a god damn ruby,“

While my heart knows, that you’re a diamond stone, 
always going to shine, shrewdly in your own light, moody, 

I know nothing else lasts forever, newbie
So why am I getting hopes up on a story line 
gone slightly out of tune key?

I might a well admit it, 
you will never choose me. 

All you’ll ever be is just a muse to me.  

When I fall in love, I fall in love forever

You said not to love you – 
I loved you anyway. 

I tried to prove that my love was real, 
but you said to go away. 

So I sat down in silence 
         and prayed 
that someday you and I would both find the kind 
of love that would stay,

Even if it’s not in the other’s love in which we played,  
Prey tell, I’m compelled 
to love you forever and a day. 

Hell, up close or from far away,
and not in a creepy predatory kind of way… 

Nay, don’t be afraid, see 
my love isn’t controlling,
not in the way you’re used to it behaving

My love is steady, brave and sweet.
It won’t ever ask you to say things you don’t mean.

Nor will I lie, I could try, 
but love this undeniable, it won’t just ago away.  

This isn’t the dress rehearsal for a wild play.
My love, is a compiled stance of romance strayed.

Even if you don’t ever want my love, that’s okay, 
you don’t have to take it, 
cuz in my heart it will live on safe, 
or possibly die on a stage, for now, 
that may be the safest spot for my display.  

Though I’ll settle for the page, 
where I can rewrite my own 
passive aggression play how I determine, 
bigger than any one person  or fashion or place.

My love, is not to be caged, 
or placed on hold, stale mate, 

not to be sold, no, this kind of love, 
can’t be foreclosed or late,
it’s never going to be for sale, 
let alone sold at a second hand rate 

Because real love can never be traded or erased. 

So when you say, with grace, 
“Don’t fall in love with me, okay?”
just know, that you never really even had a say,
because my heart knows and will always show 
up on it’s rightful sleeve, an obvious face. 

In an effort to protect it’s own rep 
in it’s very own protective case, 
up front, unapologetic, and impact braced
all the while leaving no trace 
back to any one heart chord, strait laced.

Yes, I fall in love quickly, deeply, madly, 
it’s all a part of this lovely character 
display of gravity

And sadly that doesn’t mean my mind can’t change, 
at any given moment, indeed, my love could fade… 
I mean that’s a very real part 
of putting your heart on parade,
you never know what’s coming 
or going next in this charade.

It’s like playing Russian roulette 
with a connected gut brain, 
my head and my heart at odds, God’s blood stain,
stuck strong together in vain, 
breathing through the pain…

All the while making claims 
like “maybe it was in the stars?” 

Perhaps it’s all just luck well played cards;
“  just can’t help myself” I thought, that’s the game,  
I think.  And I’ve come too far to retreat.  

I’ve learned that love oft 
is a play by play frought with 
“He loves me, he loved me nots”. 
Still I’ll take whatever shot I got, 
even if it means betting on the risk 
of scarring my own damn flame.  

No shame. No far away wish. 
I’m amiss –

Though I suggest you best not go asking me 
to refrain from saying “I love you” when I mean it. 

For it is because I took a chance on this love,
my life have been changed for the better;
Can’t you see it?

Much love to you all in the New Year! Here’s to falling in love with your life and making 2023 your bitch, right.



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