Tag Archives: love

* Becoming *

sunshine –
melting my heart –
from this life and beyond
is where i start –
my breaths are slow
i hail my essence, and with
this glow i am bestowed
with Spirit’s presence,
a gift to grow

my own Being
present, these ancient eyes
ive seen before such
Truth and lies;

so here i ask
my arm extended –
what is it for me
this time, intended –
my fingers stretched
to brush
the heavens
and fill with Love –
a gentle flow
(the gift upon others i bestow)
because the Truth
is what i know –

this life is a glimpse

full reach, and yet –
these fingertips brush what
cant be reached

still i …


what is meant to be
as Love, so gently, wraps around me –
and i – accept this gift, and share
even when some
cant see or are scared,
i expand, and move forth, you see –
i am one from Eternity –

and Time has come:
spun, to lift

this world into Light, from its drift..
while still keeping eye
on kingdoms of deep
the ones just so close –
beneath our reach

because they speak –
they bless and keep –

those who listen
softly guiding
with whispers through wind, even

when we fall-
and TRUST becomes

our only call –

because THIS, we know, surrounds
us all …


so my arm extends
with roots and tree
for ancient mountains once covered
by sea

praying to stay
in warm embrace
as my heart begins
its next big race



F the Fright

how many times

did i start over
think i’d landed
believe this was my grip –
my toehold –
i’d finally made it to
my life

just in the last seven years
just in the last city

of dreams
wrapped in a nightmare
i didn’t recognize
and muse:
who’s life am i living?
this unfamiliar
how did i get here
and how to get back

to the familiar strange:
i could make sense of …

(how many times)

how many chapters
did i
live through
how many lives
in this city and before
…and here i am again…

fresh at a start
trying to learn from
my heart
seeking to make real, this time
what before i couldn’t find
is this the one
the one where it starts –

how wary am i
so often fooled
like a noose it grips tight –
i beg to run forward,
on: fuck the fright


(although written for someone else – worthy to share.)


her Majesty, le félin féminin,
empress of black
and fur –
egyptian goddess of night –
saved the day preemptively
when I was just eighteen
fourth of july is our anniversary, she nodded
and nuzzled
time flies with no fright
with rhythm, despite
our cries to the moon while
we get it just right – and
fill contempt with Light, it
does not compare
are we aware
time knows no
boundaries –
on the moon with a spoonful of jello
and we
dined among the STARS
cried among the STARS
we do our thing
gangster – in the spring
blossoming –
le félin féminin
purrs again . . . menu changes
her majesty  of mystery
sometimes we just do our thing
let’s live in the mountains, I say
romance the sparklies . . .
eat the numbers
is there any other way
surprise!  the cycle goes…
’round the sun
but isnt it fun:  we’ve begun –


spins to win
we die to our rhymes
a little at a time





I had a whole altar set up
in your name –
your face and mine, dancing
adorned by crystals and flowers
space dedicated to you –

I Love You
where have you been
don’t you remember
you were my partner
in lives before

but now there is nothing
where did you go
I call your name you don’t answer
as if I hurt you
as if I killed you

you have taken from me
your entity
yet we both walk this earth
until we find each other –
why this time
do you force us apart

my human ego was so hurt
I said goodbye long ago
what is this disgust you show
I’m here too
don’t you know –

I had an altar.
Forgotten now
from a friend that once was
and a sister before –

how many lives must we live
in this spiral ’til you see
what you seem to like
to do to me

let me go
or love me too
our karma is too deep
for my spirit to let you keep
the abandonment, the power
bloom then dead
like a flower

Tell me once then no more
whisper it – you whore
we switched places in this life
you gave me your strife
and this duty I’ve borne
while you judged and looked on;

but it all means nothing.

On the infinite scale we’ll keep going
until time stops, or we do…
until next time

when we start again and we find
traces of what we’ve left behind

perspective (and poetry)

two days ago, early in the day, i wrote a poem:

“Morning Commute”

the baby screams
we’re stuck in a tunnel
white boys talk too loudly
the baby screams
stuck in a tunnel
someone plays music on their phone-
stuck in a tunnel
the tracks squeal
the baby screams-
a kid bumps shitty house to himself
and we’re stuck in a fucking tunnel
faces stuck to screens
bloodshot tired eyes
… and
white boys talk too loudly.
dressed with no clue. hair stuck up like glue.
the rest in solo silence, subdued
to not be stuck in a tunnel.
to forget about baby screams.
to forget this morningfuckingcommute.

(it wrote itself. i just scribbled it down after.)

.     .     .

then, i spent the next couple hours reading about the two people (on average) who’ve died every day since new years’ eve just three weeks ago — in frigid cold water by drowning, across the world and a few thousand hells from here — just because they were trying to escape a war they didn’t start. all these souls. people just like me, younger than me.

thinking about spitting angry poetry lyrics over something not even threatening my life suddenly overcame me as incredibly distasteful, small-minded, privileged, and BULLSHIT. i was mildly disgusted i could’ve so easily thrown my spewn, simple frustrations to the internet winds without a further thought; carelessly professed what was — in reality — a safe and uneventful transportation ride for me and everyone else as such a giant pain in my ass while, at the same time, somewhere-other-than-here, people are paying everything they have just for a blind chance to cross an ocean in some janky inflatable raft they know they might never walk out of.  fuck.

a couple weeks ago i learned my life will soon be making another huge shift. there is a lot of unknown, a lot of details i can’t control; in fact mostly all of it is currently unknown and not in my direct control. as i’ve begun adjusting to this next major turning-of-the-tides being so close on my horizon, while also feeling inadequate to steer myself as strongly as i’m used to (or comfortably at all), i’ve begun to fight that squeamish feeling — the one that keeps you up at night, the one that burrows itself in your gut during the day.

but here, let me interject: i’ve immense gratitude for the timing of all things in my life, for all the ways the universe has conspired to protect me in life thus far, and for all of what’s to come; i’ve steadily made effort to grow and learn from my journey, and have had both a deep trust/inner guidance i relied on heavily, and a crippling fear that showed up when it was (sometimes violently) beaten out of me; and i’ve learned how to grow my spirit back from the depths of some pretty nasty voids after it seemed crushed to oblivion — and i am thankful for all of these lessons. and — i do have a healthy love of good mystery… so a part of me is completely fascinated by the fact i’m about to step foot into the next part of the-rest-of-my-life and, even though it’s right around the corner, i have no clue what it is yet… 

but — that’s because what i’m choosing between right now is mountains or city. alone or with someone else. this state or another. how close to my family do i WANT to be. 

i’m not leaving my country knowing i’ll never see it again. i’m not leaving behind all i know and everything i own, or even my pet. i’m not running so i don’t starve or get murdered. or worse.

i know what it’s like to have what i need, and i know what it’s like to be lost; i’ve known comfort and safety and struggle, what it feels like when you have a grip, and the spell of terror that can follow when you lose it: to be adrift in unknown water; but i have NOT literally had to float across a strange dark and freezing, deadly ocean to fight for my life. i’ve been paralyzed with fear. i’ve frozen in the face of danger instead of getting the fuck out of the way. i’ve fought back when i shouldn’t have. and so it is (as it should be) incomprehensible to imagine how terrified these people are feeling in order to gamble their lives into the hands of human-smugglers — their babies’ lives — instead of choosing to stay where they are.

.     .     .

one story i read yesterday talked about how, in a small raft crammed with 45 people — some without life-vests, even ones who couldn’t swim — the motor gave out only five minutes into their journey. they floated over six hours, temperatures below freezing, most of the small children unable to handle the cold and succumbing to severe hypothermia, at night in the dark until the current brought them to Turkey. there, a guard turned them away and even beat some of them with wooden planks until, luckily, one of the young men in his twenties — an auto mechanic back home in Syria — was able to get their shitty outboard motor running and they were able to leave, trying one more time for Greece.

another reporter spoke of how he’d witnessed, of rafts bulging with people as they came ashore, a stunning, chilling silence among all who had made it — as if their collective trauma had hushed their spirits in unison, leaving behind just shells of discarded humans.

.     .     .

…and then those ghosts with wet clothes and shocked minds have to somehow keep moving. survive. be strong for the little ones. 

…why do i feel like i’m writing an account of some historical event?? how is this really happening, right now, in twenty-sixteen… while the world watches…

.     .     .

so here i am — just on the other side of the world and a few million hells away — and i am deeply humbled for a stroke of birth-fortune i didn’t choose; for the fact i have a choice (no matter how limited the resources) of what to do next with my life.

so i decided to post my poem anyway. but to include the inner commentary that came shamefully tumbling behind it; hopefully it can help remind some of you, too, how important it is to remember perspective. 





i could feel you, your consciousness
absent from this realm
for hours – it was
a vacuum of space
standing alone in a room
usually has more people,
not because
we weren’t communicating
but because
vulcan mind-melds:
the sucking stopped –
whirling spinning trading of
ceased when you departed
and you played
but i held down the fort
for us, here
into deep midnight hours i
stayed while you left
and the space separating
us began
to excite me –
because all the more i
your return –



You must see,
what you’ve found in me
i cannot explain,
we are from the past
waiting upon what is present
waiting for the future
that is now –
yet now we are here
and we are lost

You come from my past –
a recognized face
yet now our memories
have been erased
as i see you now
you are a new person –
as so am I –
yet our souls are connected, still;
and we are blinded
to images of our past
in a time so long ago –
we lived
and we met
and we danced in the moonlight –
falling into love, forbidden, showered
by silence
of the stars
and we kissed

and now
what you see in me
is a flicker from that past
hidden by layers of years
and new beginnings
though you still can’t see
what was held between you and me
what we shared, what we saw
what we felt…
why was I chosen
to remember, when you can’t