The world is so big and I am so small
How can my love be helpful at all
There’s an old man taking an aimless walk
With hopes that someone has a minute to talk
There’s a child who knows fear more than she should
And those who might save her would that they could
There are killers in power who send in their drones
To children in class who’ll never go home
Their soldiers are dying not only at war
Death by their own hand: far more, times four.
See the problems are many varied and vast
There’s trouble ahead and pain in the past
So how can I be helpful at all
When the pain is so big
And I am so small
I can tell my children that I am proud
I can smile at strangers, I can laugh big and loud
I can snuggle my pet and boop her nose
I can donate all my unused clothes
I can encourage a friend frozen in fear
And should she fall I will lend her my ear
I can write a poem to make art from the pain
I can bathe in the sun and be cleansed in the rain
Here is the answer,
the conclusion come to
There is great power in the small deeds I can do
So while the world may be full
of trouble and strife
I will pour my love over my little life
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 7:55 PM UTC
An **** of ghosts but they’re all you
each one serves to suffer
To meet yourself a hundred times
To be ****** and **** the other.
Seneca couldn’t tell you
Not a thousand words
A simple note
Or a bluntly driven missive
But bit by bit man will arrive
At what woman has always known
Kassandra has her roots in me
what I know I must know alone
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 2:08 AM UTC
The moon at which I wonder
Is the same moon gazed upon
by Joan of Arc and Cleopatra.
Perhaps they confessed to her,
their secrets and their hopes.
And so I leer at the moon
As though I could, by will alone
shrink the distance between us
To read her mind
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 2:02 AM UTC
Whole days
that I don’t know time
I wake to the birds raucous
Eat when my hunger commands
And Bathe when I wilt.
When the calling calls
I water the plants
Bake the bread
Tidy the house
I linger on walks
Stand in front of flowers
Take a hundred terrible photos
On a camera with no clock
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 1:52 AM UTC
Everyone wants to be cool
But I’m a collection of verbs
Never stood tall in nouns
No, I am not static
I am what I do
and what I won’t do
I don’t repeat
By leaving
I repeat
By returning
Kassandra has been talking
I never heed her warning
Hope for the thief
Is the verb that I am
Hope for the liar
Is the verb that I am
Hope for the cruel
Is the verb that I am
Kassandra is talking
And this time I hear her
Forgiveness isn’t a one time deal
I choose it
And chose it again
But staying gone
Is the verb that I am
Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 7:00 PM UTC
I think what I know to think.
I try to think of what I don’t.
I take the paths I think I should.
Sometimes I take a shortcut.
What I have found along the way
And this I didn’t know;
Is that all paths lead me back
To where I took a shortcut
Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 8:38 PM UTC
The sea’s companionate tempo
with the shore
Venus carving flowers
in her cosmic orbit,
The caterpillars sarcophagus
delivering him
to ephemeral death
and impermanent rebirth
A heart that breaks its mooring
to ride the current
of longing & desire
A fledgling’s hubris
leaping before
she’s known her wings,
And us
In divine dance
At the intersection
of faith and fortitude
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 5:08 PM UTC
The universe is dreaming,
Of you and of me
Of the skin peeling
from the paperbark tree
Of the cow grazing
along the low paddock
And the egret watching
From atop her back
Of Jupiter
And her umpteen moons
Of drought broke to flood
By summer monsoons
Of a girls fist kiss
And her final so-long
Of poets born
And life turned to song
Of the sea reaching out
To touch the long sky
Of every answer
To a pillow sobbed why
The universe is dreaming
so herself she can see
in you and in me
in everything here,
gone,
and ever to be. ~ Xiola
Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 6:26 PM UTC
I know why the most wounded
Feel safest with animals
An animal never hides its nature
It just is
Allowing the world to adjust around it
However it will.
People aren’t like that
They hide their nature
to adjust those around them
To mire their free will
People are hardly animals at all,
Anymore.
Which is more dangerous.
Jan 26, 2025
Jan 26, 2025 at 12:21 AM UTC
I used to lie in bed and wonder
When will life be good to me
I think this is the sinners complex
That I will one day be deserving
And life will reward me justly
Now I am good to myself
Life can fall in line!
I am a sinner! (Aren’t we all?)
Life can respond as it will
Meanwhile, I will be good to myself.
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 6:24 PM UTC