Heaven’s Door

My mind opens up as a bud with suspended dew drops does in to the presentIn the garden of my mind blossoms the red of dahlias and its scent.The ticking clock – an accountant born to alarm and calculate,To encourage one to make haste, chimes a rhythm that’s never late. The crow’s cry plays its…

I Am A Woman And I Don’t Feel Safe In This World

I was born like thisWith tits and big hipsA river between my legs,A lake in my heart,A mind that rages like the ebbs of the sea,Mud on my hands before I knew what water is. I have dragged this mountain,And though I have the sight,I still crumble at my sides.I have been told to bow…

Gleams Of Streams Of Dreams

I have given myself over to youI have opened my heartAnd I have felt you in it. I have felt you in my brain too.You that pull the stringsThat fills my in betweens. I have not a single clue,No intention in playing smart,But I have feelings I’d like to admit. My body your love has…

Love Has Murdered My Brain

I write about love like I have a clue about it’s strings.A musician rejected by his own instrument.I’ve heard rumors of all the joy and butterflies it brings,I give this love thing a try with no improvement. Seated on the couch, I could feel loneliness clutch my heart,The pain in my chest and fear of…

I Am That Which I Am

I am the maker of the clothThe fabric of my life.I am everything that I need,The builder, the breaker.I am the tailor and the dressThe scissors and the thread.I am the floor under the feetAnd the man that walks on it. I am the bullet through the throatThe blood red history booksI am the warm…

We Look For God. He Is Lost In Us

We are magnets of our futuresSailing in ships of different thoughts.We are makers of our fateFrequency broadcasted equals frequency caught. Yes, we dictateWith every wave of thoughtAnd seal our fateWith the emotions brought. We look for God.He is lost in us.Many remain obliviousTo the power within us. I look for wordsTo explain a conceptThat can…

What Self-loathing Type Of Shared Misery Is This?

Why is having more important that being? Why have we prided blindness over seeing?When did the type of fork matter over the food?Why does vice and menace thrive over brotherhood? When did likes and numbers overtake feeling?Technology stealing more than it’s healing?Ten cars, seven houses and still we’re suffering.It’s as though our progress is backfiring….

Pen To Paper – The Art Of Poetry

Take a painting class, learn how to say ‘I’m a writer’ in Portuguese, stumble upon fencing or lean your way to gardening. Try your very best to do anything but write a poem. If all else fails, open a wattpad account and scream about it from the top of your roof. At first, you will…

The Fangs That Bit and Poisoned My Youth

Nothing was mentioned of the soulWhen to death we march, time unknown. Not a minute more or much lessDoes the clock pause this game of chess. Age comes fast while we’re dying slowSo low our chests, what faint glow. When seated on an empty deskTrembling in the hand, this I ask: What’s age? What’s the…