College Motivation


Wenatchee Valley College commons during summer with the fountain running,.
Wenatchee Valley College during summer.

Heighten your aspirations,

Get ‘em up where they see the sun,

Float like something lighter than desperation,

Blood soaked to the tarnished beat of your life,

But succeeding despite.

Dude,

Just get the fuck up and move.

Do it,

Even the schoolwork,

Even the homework,

You’ve had the harder lessons,

The ones that left the scars,

Now put some time into the paper ones,

The ones that will lift you to the stars.

Frivolous waste of time you once said,

Now absorb and baptize in the act of learning,

Walk onto a campus,

Where you can be something and never look back.

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Glass Walls


Glass maze image from overhead.
Labrynth

Putting pieces back together in a maze made of glass,

Seeing clear the future goals to move beyond the past.

These walls that edge without blotting out my vision,

They feel so tight yet loosely fit and lie about position.

I thought myself to be far in, so buried deep indeed,

Nearly neglected thought and action calls to change for want not need.

Not a Normal Zoo


Tremulous chattering in the van like we’re beetles in heat. Something like that anyways. Its fucking cold but it sure beats being on the street. Time to start on one of those commitments. That thing where we write everyday, try to spew out the content that drives each of us bonkers, makes us sicker and crazier than anything else upstairs no matter how much we beg and pray.

There’s joy to be found here. In the way that our interactions have changed. Its subtle, so very subtle, but present and there’s no denying the pleasure it brings. Instead of side eyed looks they come straight on, a touch of passion, and I’m even back to singing terribly constructed spasmodic morning songs.

Like a drunk man who’s way too sober christening each second with noise to blot out all of the thoughts before they come screaming to his room begging for their toys.

But it’s all got a rhythm to it. A banging irrational rhythm.

From the awkward sex making in the cubbyhole cavern with blanket draped window we reside, to the front seats arm deep in residue from yesterday which resides. You’d think we were animals, but that’s far from true. The hallucinations today have me convinced that we’re clearly not part of the normal zoo.

Find Your Voice (and Video)


Spoken Word Video Reading

Find your voice,
Find your ink,
Air through lips or pressure through finger tips,
Find your voice,
Use it proudly,
Share your love,
Your hate, your pain, your vision, your create, your palette of life lived,
Sing it however you will,
Your voice will carry resoundingly.
Find your voice boy,
Find your voice girl,
If you whisper in the street,
If you stutter and feel like you bleat,
If you shout with violence and hurt,
If you crackle with intensity unleashed.
If the paper runs torn beneath your pressure,
The pentip breaks and spills its hidden treasure,
Find whatever you find that lets you know that you are able,
Complete, and perfectly capable,
Damaged beyond belief,
But beautiful in shining relief,
Find your voice
Find your words,
They’re the path out of wherever you’ve roamed,
And will cut the road home.

A Divorce for the Past, Present, Future


So as something of a preface to the following let me just say that it has been an extraordinary (in both positive and negative ways) period of weeks since I last punched together something to share with the webs’ people. I had a few challenges about a month and a half back which resulted in my being asked to write a divorce letter to my “disease:….but not the quintessential “goodbye forever drugs” – but rather, towards however I envisioned that sickness which had driven me to be were it to wear a physical form. The suave smooth talking salesman, a blundering and demanding gargoyle, a bad ass mans man with a beard, a sexy woman teasing and seducing….whatever form i chose.
Hey baby you sexy thing,
Hey brother you filthy rock star.
Thank you for the stories,
Those staggering rides up with the comets,
Them epic nights rolling without pause into endless days.
Damn but we fucked well and,
Damn we sped past those pathetic sheep on the streets,
Damn we were a fireball of excitement,
A hurricane of insanity.
My sweet goddess of sin,
My destroying titan of hatred.
You blessed me,
You cursed me,
It’s time to walk away,
Sky, John, off with you and your false matrimony,
Off with this slavers collar on my finger,
Just like you spit in my face when the fun was done,
Feel the scornful gaze that your wisdom brought so many I once loved to cast upon me.
Sky, my lovely succubi, take your sinfully beautiful body,
Those promises of impossibly intense bliss that would never end,
Taste the disgust you draped me in before all I encountered.
My gruesome and powerful spirit,
My depiction of remorse,
Of emotion to be understood and chased,
My devil-may-caresofuckitallandwatchtheworldburn charmer,
John, even when you convinced me that I was doing something positive,
Always those that I wanted to hurt the least caught the brunt.
You made loving tantamount to self-inflicted emotional trauma,
Never again.
You both served your purpose, goodbye.
I divorce myself from my past including you.
From the present wherein my personality is lost in yours and all I can see and be seen as is as you made me,
From the future of which I know little,
With this freedom,
I embrace myself again to stand tall and walk with purpose and confidence to something brighter.
Where the voices are new,
The suggestions more pure,
Life lived more passionately instead of intensely.
-S

Hope

Hope is the sun rising again.

The landscape of hope breathes life to we Travelers.

She takes in those who walk upon her,

Brings us to the peaks of our mountains.

She shows us clipped horizons opened to infinity,

Has us inhale crisped air cleaned with freedom.

Where lights cluster above,

Their thousands of points glimmering success,

You’ve made it to join the others,

A star in your own sky,

An inspiration to the next Traveler.

Hope will lead you to become something more,

And the darkness will always give way to your light.

Strange Waves – Spoken Word


Plummet describes in a word the dumb shit,

The result of a life lived from one hit –

-to the next and that second of fuck it.

As intense wash the waves,

Through your secret filled caves,

Telling memories back from where you sent them away,

Until the shores are a littler cascade of broken mirrors pelting your gaze,

Each reflection a question,

Each flash a suggestion,

Of what happened and why,

Where you broke the faith and started to cry.

Each lens is a how of what could have been,

Who you are without all the sin.

No more pills and bottles and rock,

Bags of dope, sacks of coke and the inevitable cops.

Living on streets and the pity of strangers,

Acting devil may care to numb out the danger.

When each shot you took put a pin in your son,

Blocked his love just as well as you holding a gun.

You got loaded and loaded,

Raised finger and goaded,

As your legs washed out at the thighs,

From a tide on the rise.

If not for the merciful care,

From those you punish unfair,

You’d be sunk,

Drifting drunk,

Out to a personal sea in a trunk.

Boxed up tight when you ran out of fight,

Away from the world and your right,

As a man to do your best to make it alright.

And as long as it took,

For you to confess as a crook,

Thief of dreams, hopes and beliefs you forsook.

You can’t change the past,

It’s gone while the onrushing future hits fast.

So you accept the regret,

Live learn love and refuse to forget.

Keep strong in surrender,

Committed to change,

Because in the end you’re not alone,

And are any of us really so strange?

Overseer


Sit powerfully with your eyes cast low,

Shouldering sugared pillars of duty,

That the sun can rest amid glorious delights,

And the travelers roam free across their paths,

Searching always for the journey-

-not the end.

A Boy Named Wolf


EDIT 12/12/16: Was asked to remove the picture of my son as part of my ongoing dispute with the ex-wife. Image has been replaced with “Fort Taber” which is the location this interaction originally took place in the short story by the same name as this excerpt. Thank you for reading.

A Boy Named Wolf

Drugs/Alcohol: “I am not an individual, yet each singular person has the capacity to carry my spirit into the world. I am multiplied with each additional user, yet the core of what I am remains the same. I am not contained within powders or bottles or needles. Merely vehicles by which I extend myself physically into the world. On the plane of thoughts, I am a gateway to dreams, goals, opportunity, capacity, capabilities and opportunity. Emotionally, I am happiness, relief, dependable joy, relaxation, inspiration, and intensity unleashed. For your spirit, I provide for comfortable faith in a tactile form which offers succor to all who kneel and bring me inside their life.

I am a God who responds. Who ensures your prayers will be answered immediately. I am gratification instantly without the annoyance of patience. Why would you not want me? I an the perfect answer to your questions not even asked.”


Wolf:  “I’ve seen your work in my life, in the sickness of a father, the loss of my home, tears from mother, and a sister who doesn’t know “DADDY” as anything other than a voice on the phone. There are no dreams with any substance you truly provide. No lasting materialization of each temporary respite from reality. Each fades to an increasingly nightmarish awareness as you strip health, dignity, and passion from those penitent before your strength of persuasion.

Smiles only mask tears as, boldfaced, your flock sells such sweet lies to the innocent children begging for the love of time lost.

                “Physically, regardless of form, you corrode the natural state of each being. You disregard the value of life, diminishing the ability to explore the world we inhabit. Your demands for attention outweigh the critical needs of food, water, and shelter. You let your acolytes freeze, burn, and starve for your favor. Their dependence on you grows until your absence inflicts pain while your presence soothes the body and places the agony on their mind and soul. You are rust on a cog in the machine that is our body. Our one indispensable and limited currency to share and create precious moments with – time. You cut our lives short, and we can never regain that. Each moment so brief that we are hardly aware of its passing until it has gone. Even having escaped you, the damning repercussions of your presence will haunt the body with ailments and injury well past when you have departed.

You are the plea for death, to cut life short in mercy, for in desperation you trick our bodies to betray us.

                “In mind, you cause your lovers thinking to be so distorted as it must be to fit existence into conforming with your view of the world. It must warp to escape the horror that has become life. Defenses of the mind are erected, devolving willpower in lieu of rationalization, justification and denial. Barriers to the truth that they are not intellectually inferior, but infected by a sickness of the mind that cripples the capacity to confront, honestly, personal shortcoming in order to improve upon them. You delude, misguide, frustrate, reshape, and manipulate the mind until your followers rely on you to lead and direct every choice and belief.

You weaken the gift of thought, voiding the opportunity to mentally defeat you. No answer do you offer, only the question, why?

                “Emotionally, you shatter confidence, replace hope with fear, pride with arrogance, love with hate. You contaminate innocence with misery, motivation with desperation, joy with despair, excitement with impulse. Regret begets guilt, guilt begets shame, and shame erodes the experience of the present and the internal support of conviction and commitment to construct a fulfilling future – much less belief in an ability to do so. Satisfaction and acceptance with hollowness and insecurity. You are the complete removal of optimism and hope.

You are the ultimate resentment in self. You are obsession, self-loathing, and self-destruction.”

                “You are bankruptcy of the soul, there is no spirituality to be sound in you. Where faith should increase as blessings are counted, gratitude succumbs to grandiose beliefs about our place in the spectrum of control. The dilution of the spirit by artificial inflation of ego. Eyes are cast down instead of up when your supplicants seek nurturing. All values are destroyed to make way for your replaced design of integrity.

Your capital is misery, spreading like a plague to crush out the glow we each are born with – the blessing from beyond. You become the reason for prayers unanswered.


Drugs/Alcohol: “Child, you have not tasted the wealth of my love yet. There is fire here to prime you to any task filled at your slightest whim. Oceans of milky light cast from the fullest of moons to soothe you into peaceful waking slumber to dream and adventure as only the imagination can let you.

Courage at the waiting lips of a bottle wanting to embrace yours as only a lover could….”


Wolf“No. Lies. Stories. Manipulations and deceit. No. Not now. Not ever. You have stripped away the love that once beat loudly in the heart of the man I knew as father. I’ve seen his broken eyes, and watched the crippling frustration of a young man dying as an old one.

No. You have claimed enough from me and my family. You CANNOT and WILL NOT have any more. Leave, you are not welcome here.

I love you more than words can ever tell and am so proud of you Wolfie. You are always on my mind.

~End~

Please excuse grammatical errors (proofreading at 4am is tough). This is an excerpt from a story I’ve been working on to try and process my absence and loss of family owing to drugs and alcohol. Wolf is actually the name of my son, and I am so proud of him. He knows (I hope) that he is still my sunshine, now and always, even if I can’t be there. Format was played with a little. Please comment, email me – I am truly interested to know what the larger world thinks of this kind of writing.

Damned to Succeed (Slam/Spoken)


YouTube Video of the Spoken Word / Slam Poetry – apologies, my free plan doesn’t allow for direct posting of videos. This isn’t a gimmick to get you to click through,?” I just don’t have another means to share. Thank you for your time – I know you have a lot of quirky and unique folks and things to see online, we’re thrilled to have had your attention for more than 10 seconds and hope we can do even better the next time around, 😉 

~S


Why is always the question,
Regardless of the fucking answer.
Why did it happen?
Why is this the way it is?
Why do I not have this?
Why did I make that one choice?
Why is she gone?
Why are they not here?
Why am I stuck in this endless fucking cycle with no one to blame but myself.
Pity is the answer when there’s no one to answer back.
Regardless of the reason behind why,
Pity solves the unsolvable,
Pity for yourself feels like absolution,
Pity shames the word away,
Because pity lets the hurt ring true.
Whether it’s honest,
Or a cry for attention,
Pity is a thing that has meaning and passion,
Feeling not lessoned by the outside,
Rather enhanced by memories and dreams.
Pity cries that you regret,
But don’t want to be buried beneath all of your miserable self-hatred.
“Get off the pity pot.”
Idiotic fucking saying.
“Stop feeling bad that you destroyed your life.”
It’s grieving, one part perhaps.
Fuck you for telling me to “man up.”
I’ll get there.
But right now I’m a child embracing the need for a warm touch from someone who will tell me it’s okay.
Clearly that’s not you.
Or so many in “the rooms.”
Anger is a statement of action,
Which can burn to the point of liquid sunshine,
Or freeze the world in a halo of hatred.
Anger shows a path forward.
Anger lays out the choice to move someplace new.
To take the past in an embrace and crush it with disgust,
Use it as fuel to burn a path into the future.
Or,
It can smolder into bitterness and resentment,
Regret with rage shimmering outwards in an aura of disgust.
Either a tool for success,
Or the death sentence of purgatory by one’s own hand.
Ice yourself over with hate for what caused the pain,
What caused the frustration,
The misery,
The loss,
The devil on your back that whispers sweet nothings in your ear.
The misleading moment where you believe it.
The damning consequences of that instant.
Fucking ice,
And seething determination.
Fuel the burning demand to NEVER GO BACK.
To forge a road forward.
To lay waste to anything that stands between you and success.
Today I’ll try and remember to turn the flame towards where it truly belongs.
Crawl out from under my self-pity and depression,
Stop asking why,
Just take it all for what it is.
The past was what it was.
The future makes unknown moves to confound the game.
This moment has all the possibilities I will ever see.
 And it’s time to stand proudly in it.
Raise flag and grit teeth.
I’m sick of this shit,
Forward the march into the question of tomorrow,
And damn yesterday for the last time,
It’s about time to win for a bit.