Category Archives: poetry

Burn me alive

Burning fire, find me in reason of means thought forgotten. Why must this flame keep my heart ablaze? Sparks ignited by reminiscing passings days of old. Bring me clear focus to determine the cause. Find me at odds searching to what lifts me off balance. Endless mystery held by such a word or confusion has entered into my weary soul. Fingers interlocked once upon, with space increasing in present notions of time. Brushed surface beyond exterior complexions or expressions. Seek it thus, is not the promise eternal which I swore? As I grow, may I indeed be led and lead. May I once again say I have what is held. Consuming blaze, engulf me with breaths I have not forgotten. Warmed embrace, I speak as one with open heart laid to find solace. Keep me in infinite promise.

Coming Together, Home


I cannot compare to the moon, stars, or the sun. For do we not stand as our own? Let them reflect or bask upon your own beauty. When has the sun hidden behind a cloud because you arose and your smile gave new light to my soul? Was it not in this very morning? Poetry knows not such intrusion you have caused within my world. The forces drawn not of orbit or gravity but the pull towards you keeps me in motion. But find me not lost within emotions splendored in infinite bliss. I have come to understand my reason and shall lead when the foundation is built. Carry on and mark my words but see the trail I embark in steps toward the future. Must you part ways or steady yourself to hold me as we take action together. Tales have been interwoven and locked in bindings of stories not of my own. I cannot grasp at meanings where who I define and see goes beyond the characters drawn. Let my voice roar and see me lead to victory in pursuit. My cause is not to conquer but rule beside my queen the lands we have gained by our struggles. Is it then a paradox? All that we have overcome to stand before our king and bask in His love? Or must I remember that it has yet to pass and I await the future in wait as I am shaped to the man intended to be? Let it be known, await for me and worry not for time has no limitation. I am on my way and together we shall head home.

At War

Head splits open with notions. Commotions causing distortions forming forces. But I still stand. Let war bring me to the brink of my misery. Find me in its company but know I am not part. The bombs blasting fields. Empty emotions riveted in silence. Rushing sounds of nothingness basked by screams. All around me as I crawl to wake, I replace fear with joy. Resting in pieces but finding I’m whole. Trenches covered by dirt but I rise to face the giants. Battles of yesterday scar my nerves. Mental friction of depictions scaled by bullets carried in loads. Ricochet beams of existence giving reason to fight. Hands held high, ducking in surprise with barrels of heat grabbing my side. Let the shots ring, this is not over. I shall not surrender. Find me at war with the world. Grab hold the sword and await to deploy.

Bleeding Poetry

Life becomes too complicated chasing 100 grand. So we beat ourselves with clubs blowing all we earn because we bottle our emotions. Sipping and lured by the hooks of open legs. While our kids asking and looking to be tucked in beds. Awakening to another person every week or month. Then we ask ourselves we going to make this bread. Sour doughs we’ve lost the desire to put in work. No commitments but stuck in the ideas of love, confused into thinking it’s lust. Yet I’m trying to make sense, create change. Stuck in American dreams while the average American realizes they hardly sleep. Keeping the lights on or water running. Still, we entertain ourselves. Allowing the screens shift the direction of life so in turn we miss. Mental prisons now seen as the norm. But who am I to speak? So you ask. A 26 year old afflicted, conflicted citizen resisting the addiction, the system. Working 9 to 5 to pass by life thinking before he would die by 25. Rushing time as if I could exceed my limitations. Writing intricate poetry and art with each brush stroke in the oceans of emotions. Known before as the shadow. Lurking and searching the purpose amidst the darkness. What can be said that I haven’t experienced. A man once broken and now restored. Imperfections soaring as memories long past. Reciting my testimony and thoughts to help bring a cause to affect the state we’re in. Let me bleed using poetry.

Last Will

By the time you read this, I will be dead. A story still written though finds its end. A passing memory of yesterday. I am ever changing and must put to death my history. Yet would you care about who I was or hold emotions as an act to play a part of my heart. A piece given to all I love yet your words hold no shelter. Your body acts as a way to keep warm but your exterior reveals the cold shell. So quick to respond now as my parting words reveal I would never be seen or heard from again. Yet it is not my soul that dies but this vessel that has held the pressure and tides in times of trouble. 

My last will, What would it be? I thought about opening this up with a poem. It is to give insight into what I commonly see amongst people who pass away. It makes me wonder what would happen if someone was to come across my journal. All secrets and thoughts written out and shown to the world. Peeled layers far deeper than my blog posts. In itself, my journal is who I am in the rawest of forms. Yet, can I just state what comes to mind in my head right now? What would be the parting words to those I love or just someone in the future. At times I think about my journal one day being used as was Anne Frank or the known authors of the past. So I will write as if these were my parting words:

What can be said about life? Laid out by men and women who claim to have things in order and find themselves lost trying to organize their life in schedules. What should I leave in my stead but a message to all, not just thoughs that I hold dear. 

Time cannot be rushed or forgotten but presently used and lived upon. Learn to breathe. That job isn’t going anywhere or the world is suddenly going to stop spinning. Learn to accept the passing times and embrace the coming future but don’t spend your time worrying about either. 

Love, never to be mistaken for lust, transcends all notions of men. Love is beyond time and beyond any complications. If you find it, hold dear to it, to them. Their will always be one. Though it may be written as if it is a fantasy, true love at times may appear as a tragedy. Forever is marked as an eternal promise and yet you never truly know when it will end. But this does not mean you surrender to your doubts or what others tell you. Love, fight for it because true love is action and ultimately a sacrifice. Never spend your time in torment wondering what ifs when your love is waiting. We are plagued by what to do and how to act and all I can say is to reveal your heart. If It is not returned then learn to have self respect, respect the other, and learn your value as well. There is not “the one” except for that person you are with or cannot see yourself live without, at times it can be in the form of a friendship. I have loved and honestly, one needs to grow first and love one’s self before you involve another. Even so, another will not grant you happiness, nor are they entitled to give you anything. 

Dreams are just that. Awake to the reality that you must pursue what you envision, the goals you set. Never set a big goal and expect to accomplish it right away. Divide it or see it as steps and learn to walk up those steps and grow along the process.

God ultimately will be by your side even during your dying breath. Even if you don’t believe in Him. He shall always be beside you and help you along the way, trying to guide you to become a better version of yourself. 

I leave you all with this, remember me not for who I was trying to be but who I was, who I became. My actions reveal my heart and my words reveal my thoughts.

Now. With that being all written out I hooe to have people ponder about life. These aren’t subjects I’ve ignored but what I discuss frequently to help others understand and for now I seem to go by seasons or lessons. I am not dying physically or planning to die, I am dying mentally though. Who I am today will die when it becomes tomorrow. I won’t stop changing.

My Name

My name, when you hear it, what comes to mind? Times now forgotten or memories of life in nights under the lights. When you see my name, does the earth become your vision. My name, something gifted to myself and shared freely yet holds its own weight, afflictions. What comes to mind with my name? Letters compiled and signed as sincerely yours with dear yous. Bold with font and underlined showing how capital the action is. With verb all around which can be seen as profound. But can I really spell out trouble? A simple man troubled to Be what you see as if it all ends with Zs, asleep to the reality. How can my name once again touch lips, breathing relief, and joy? Sounds by tones of shades of grays but it folds in spectrums of light in vivid illustration. My name, known and given by my Father and yet I ask to hold close. Ask for it and see it engraved on thy heart awaiting for I do. I await to hear your own though my heart hears it and beats to the rhythm. Dancing to miss and hopefully miss us but join. Such a name. My own. My name is yours.