A Road Home


Love under the moon.

A note from Skye: at a juncture in our relationship where I had left the woman who is now my wife behind to go on a callously stupid and ill-fated journey elsewhere, she inscribed a note on the blackboard I have inside the roof of my truck (then my home). She wrote me, “Never forget, that home is where the heart is.” Despite going through terrible fights and challenges as I lost my mind following a tearful reunion and after our marriage which eventually led to my diagnosis of schizoaffective, she has remained a constant presence and holds my soul, mind, and thoughts to a more serene path than I have ever imagined to be possible. It isn’t easy for either of us sometimes, but in honor of the forthcoming holiday and a desire to put a smile on her face, the short poem below came about. The dog I had at the time which came to love her as well was named Luna – hence the image attached. Thank you for reading.

That beast with feel good flames,

It shatters personality with energizing fear,

Makes a whole of fractured creatures,

Absence felt but unseen shines light,

On the gnarled path to something true and right.

Rather than lost and alone we find our way here,

Out of the forest of broken hopes,

To a land fabricated of dreams and words,

Of possibilities and limitless features.

When we journey beyond the ken of all that’s known,

Risk it all on a gambled passion turned more,

We’ve started a walk down that most crooked road,

The one that leads home.

Find your love.

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Change the Future


Agents of Change

Beguiled and lost in the haze of one life,

Still losing out on what could salvage that strife,

Put meaning and purpose behind all the pain,

Gather the crazy to shed light on the game,

For all the nights spent on streets,

Walking and stomping amuck.

Banging head against wall for the sound of a thud,

Claiming bad luck.

If I had to find solace in all of the facts,

Like the door once chopped down as a kid with an axe,

It would be to show vision of future not so bleak in design,

Make windowless posters and let bleed out my mind,

To a world created unsorrowful, joyous and free,

Pleasure found in success is where I’d seek to be.

I’d be pleasant and loving,

Caring and nurturing,

Devoted and faithful,

Consistent and capable.

Brilliantly damaged with an uncrafted mind,

Open to new thoughts,

Carefree instead of careless with my time.

I’d be playful and cheery,

Opulent in my charity,

Give all with sincerity,

Never expect in return,

I’d find that blistering heat of our sun to which I once yearned.

There’d be lessons with smiles,

Understanding and patience for miles.

I’d recognize your pain that I felt as a child,

Never more would I feel like I was trapped in a zoo.

The display would be dismantled,

Daily shit show would be cancelled,

Put the guardrails away,

Be approachable, jokable and laughing while at play.

I’d tell a story that said all the mistakes clear and loud,

Put nothing out there afloat on pink cloud.

Pride in voice to name myself a survivor,

Through chance and luck as much as MacGyver.

Explore the recesses of why I did what and how it had to have changed,

Look never for excuses, but reasons to grow, heal, and set aflame,

-a desire for beauty to cross ‘cross the world,

Melt away shame for my broken child be they me,

Boy or girl.

Stand owning my personal legend of existence,

Know that at the end of my days,

I made something more than a negative difference.

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.

Ink Leaks


Spilling ink from your soul.

Loosening around the edges,

With screws tweaked hard until they’re embedded deep.

Frothy blackened ink flows with silkiness,

Out across the indents to smear your tools.

Graceful and petulant the grime shines,

A mirrored tone that shakes each reflection.

Fingers slide off in an impatient rush,

Avoiding the wandering glaze seeping out with each torque.

Whetstone polish to sharpen the blade,

That soldiering behemoth of broken muse will never do as bade.

ink-covered-face

The Update of Hope – 1/12/13


My apologies for not getting on earlier. Everyone following and others have been so incredibly supportive of this site and my work that I feel guilty over a prolonged absence.

However, for the first time in many moons that absence is not related to horrifying events, rather the beginning of a renewed vigor for life and the culmination of some challenging work.

I am being tested at a new position in the hopes it will be come something long term – I’ve thrown myself into it beyond 100% in the attempt to do so. Happily, and with great satisfaction.

I’m finally paying child support, not as much as I would like to be giving to my kids, but everything that I can afford. Consistently and with the intention of finally becoming a consistent presence.

I talk to my children once a week, reliably, and without fail. I have 5 different alarms that go off and warm me so that if I collapse in exhaustion either the alarms, or calls from multiple people warning me, will get my ass up to be there to speak with my remarkable son and daughter. While the animosity is thick between my ex-wife and I, somewhere I’m finding the appreciation and respect for her that I should have. She’s been raising my children while I was unable to. It is my responsibility to earn my way back into the family I destroyed, not expect it handed back with a smile. I don’t think that way all the time, but as I build a better existence and confidence I find that it takes away the undercurrents that I let drag me farther from them.

I’m living in a stable location….more than 40 moves in 2-years….STABILITY would be a blessing in so many ways. It took me almost 3-weeks just to put my suitcase away because I was certain that something would go wrong…now I’m considering bringing more clothes that have somehow survived all the travel.

My squishy and delicious Mimi without who the world would have stopped so long ago. Forever and always will I be hers, and she mine.

Happiness.

I think I’m getting closer to happiness.

God damn if it didn’t take one hell of a journey to get here, and he (or she) shows that I gave up time and time again. They also know I’m terrified that the other shoe will drop at any second – usually I’m the one wearing it when it does.

I’m optimistically terrified of arriving at a new future, a start to something better, and becoming what I was intended to be.

My love to everyone who continues to support the blog. I will be trying to get more consistent again as everything balances out.

Happy 2017, merry-post “holiday insert” – and my wishes for kindness, satisfaction, joy, and contentment in the coming year.

Tonight the world is peaceful.

peaceful-night-2

-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.

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.

Becoming a Literary Exhibitionist


Exhibitionism at it’s finest calls for a complete strip down – but like most nudity, sometimes those watching would prefer the clothes stayed on. Authors must dangle and hope the meat on display attracts the eye. Easier perhaps when your life is wrenched from the most vivid hallucinations of Jack Kerouac and Hunter S. Thompson then run through the Douglas Adams’ improbability drive. Prodded with LSD and electrified glow-sticks into the Minotaur’s lair to play. Surely that would entertain?

This is a lifelong dream, a Purpose or a calling that I’ve never been able to just put ahead of everything else. Please share, and thank you for taking the time to browse. Thank you.

IndieGoGo – Crowd Funding Effort

empath-imagery