Grey Scale

August 14, 2014



He lives in black and white,
dreams in vivid color,
believes beauty is a myth and existence is a curse.

He knows there is good,
but it’s submerged in darkness
as it’s just lost looking for light.

Good is like a firefly in the night,
stuck in a well
so far down,
so far away
it’s just flicker in the distance. Nobody cares
that good has gone missing except for when its dark
and there’s no one to guide them.

Yeah, that’s when they will care.
The moment they finally realize;
no one likes to live in colors of black and white

Strangers on the Subway

August 6, 2014

Across from each other they’re apart,
two different worlds,
two different stories
and two different paths.

For what brings
them together in
this exact moment, this exact time and
this exact point of their lives
is any ones guess.

Is it fate? Luck? Destiny?
or maybe it’s nothing,
just nothing at all.

But what if told you
they were perfect for each other
but he was too nervous and
she was too shy.
As he got up to leave,
he wanted to say Hi
but it was his stop so he left and
the two never saw each other again


Random Update #1

August 3, 2014

Hey to all of the readers/followers on my blog. How’s it going? I’m doing pretty well, thanks for asking lol

I just wanted to know if you guys enjoyed my writing and the stuff I have been putting out. My blog has changed a lot since I started it up a while ago and I wanted to know if you guys liked my poetry or creative writing or maybe my old random personal opinion posts? Perhaps more drawings? Maybe I should be quiet and never post again? Just kidding.

Are there any suggestions or ideas that I should work on moving forward? Right now I post a lot of poetry, I love writing it and I get awesome feedback, but I could change it up and post other things too.  Let me know because I have an awesome following and support base and I love posting stuff that everyone enjoys reading.

PS: You guys are awesome.

PPS: You guys are still awesome.


small penguin

Blood Stream

August 3, 2014

A pond, lake and valley all connect
one way or another as they intertwine
like veins and overlap each other.

They take turns pouring blood
back into an ocean
that’s floating at high tide
and trying to pump out
the sour salt-water-taste
that’s left in its mouth.

Water is water and blood is blood
in a body of water,
but the heart is an ocean

heart-shaped ocean

We Never Existed

July 31, 2014

What if no one was there
and it was only
me and you
but neither of us existed.

I could write this poem
page after page,
forever and ever
but it wouldn’t matter
because it was all a dream
or better yet a mirage.

What if what I’m saying makes no sense
and what if I’m crazy, but what if
I’m not

disappear girl

Writers are Selfish

July 18, 2014

but writers don’t care
they rearrange,
mix and match letters
anyway they wish.

They don’t care if H
doesn’t like it near A
or T doesn’t like it in the middle
and if E isn’t fond of the end,
but they do it anyway

they force letters together
just to express themselves
with no regard
to the feelings of others.

Writers are selfish

Once upon a time writing

All That I Can Do

July 13, 2014

scrabble board game words

I wrote these words
only for you
so do with them
as you wish.

Take them for the literal
or the figurative
it doesn’t matter to me
as long as you promise
to read them
and know
they were written
only for you.

Crumple them up,
throw them out
and burn them in flames when you’re finished

but as long as they were read
and not wasted
I know
I’ve done
all that I can do

Alone in the Woods

July 9, 2014

big foot woods

See these fingers,
see these hands
they’re like yours,
waiting to be held
warmed to the touch.

Give me a smile,
give me a wave
not just a flash.

I’ll be your travel guide
follow my foot steps
down to the riverside
we’ll lay

watch the sky turn orange
count the constellations,
if we’ll ever get that far

trade me your freedom and
I’ll give you mine

No Traffic on Rt. 17

April 21, 2014

We take it for granted,
the ability to see and be seen;
ninety miles per hour on the highway
would be accompanied by red and blue lights

But not tonight.

It’s an orange-white street light
over your shoulder
masking the faint-taste of alcohol
on your tongue and
not judging you for what you have become,
but there to show you what you could be.

So look past the orange-white light
and to the skyline
as it gets all of the attention.

When the city falls asleep,
remember who it is
guiding you home past midnight



April 11, 2014


He hides behind a new sea of camouflage
shades of green and brown colors
similar to the terrain he fights on

it’s what he breaths now,
it consumes him
it’s his new norm

he’s killed a man in cold-blood
and strangled another until his last breath
but he won’t let it be told
nor will he ever tell his family
or seven-year-old daughter,

he doesn’t want her dad to become the enemy.

He sits there alone in the desert,
under the stars as his camouflage colors
turn into shades of greys and blacks
for he is a man who has lost himself, behind army lines.

At home, he imagines
his daughter sitting on the window sill,
waiting for his return and running
down the front stairs and into his arms
before he can make it to the door.

His image shoots warmth through his veins
and into his heart not for if his moment will ever happen,
but when it does.

She doesn’t know it, maybe never will,
it’s her
that makes him stay alive
for another day,
it’s her

that is
his hero


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 2,162 other followers