She asked me for a poem about her that never came
And I do not know if it is because I had no songs to sing
Or if I had given up singing to an audience that stopped responding
To an audience whose excitement waned
To an audience who was indifferent and unperturbed with his songs
To an audience who grew bored of the act
She asked me for a poem about her
And I guess this is it
An elegy for the relationship between the man and audience
To the audience whose cheers dimmed
And eventually fell silent
Except there is no consolation here to be had
Only the memory of the room
Before the lights went out.
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 4:20 PM UTC
We live in a world where words have less meaning
Where truth holds less value
And compassion stretches only as far as a smile
We live in a world where language has been wielded
As tools to brand others
To twist meanings until nothing can be decipherable
We live in a world where those who wield power
Get to define the terms
And get to label others as they see fit
Words and language have become weapons of hate
Tools for misogyny
And vessels for racism
And as I have lived my life
It has been fascinating
To see how words have shifted
Boundaries have shifted
And now we teeter
On the cusp before insanity
We live in a country
That wields that power
To define what an enemy is
We live in a reality
Where the definition for "criminal" or "terrorist"
Can be dealt, traded, and bought
And though you may not live within
Their current definition
Of enemy of the state
If you open your mouth in protest
They shall surely redefine the words and definitions
To hunt you
Persecute you
And finally get what they always wanted from you in the beginning:
Subservience Through your Delicious Silence
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 4:48 PM UTC
Is your heart big enough
To love something new?
Big enough to love
Without judgement?
Are we capable of such love anymore?
Capable to be open?
Why do we guard our hearts with such ironclad ideals?
Are we so afraid that we will be betrayed?
I fear we have invented a new type of love
A selective love
A love we revel in
Simply because there is an iota of it
Perhaps I'm wrong
And disconnected from the world
But the more I see the world act
I feel that a shift has taken place
And the old children stories
Of love and acceptance
Are bygones of a forgotten age
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 9:57 AM UTC
We all have within us
A room we dare not go
A memory
A belief
A once noble idea
Whatever the place
We are terrified to face it head on
I ask why?
Why do we shy away from such confrontation?
Let alone,
Confrontation with ourselves?
Why are some of us more inclined
To confront another
Rather than ourselves first?
Is it pride?
Embarrassment?
Fear of what such a confrontation would reveal?
We all have an abyss that strangely sits
At the edge of our minds.
A dark cavernous space
And many of us ignore it
Despise it
And would rather distract ourselves
From the unknown
That lives within our minds.
But I tell you this,
as one who once ignored the abyss in me.
It stays with you,
No matter how far you run
No matter how sad or happy you feel
No matter how distracted you are
The abyss within is not a force of good or evil
It is a pocket reality
A space only you can inhabit
A space
When left alone
Will slowly colonize your reality
Until you no longer can ignore it.
Until you must confront it
For what it is,
Alone.
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 11:50 AM UTC
Sometimes when driving through towns
Past little homes and apartment complexes
I can't help but to wonder
What unspeakable horrors hide behind
Those walls
That conceal
And muffle
Am I deranged? To imagine such things
To worry about the deeds
That may or may not be happening
In hidden rooms and behind closed doors?
Is it my anxiety? Is it a psychic connection?
And so.
I created my own idea of a perfect world
A system.
Where people are safe, from the horrors of another's sense of justice
Enter Aethisia
A world built entirely by the host.
A world free of others.
And only in his own solitude,
Do I believe man will truly Flourish.
Jul 30, 2025
Jul 30, 2025 at 9:26 AM UTC
Feckless and without warmth
We have grown to pretend to care
As a new species of man grows
From the septic pools of lies and deceit
Outwardly, we have grown not grotesque
But perfect.
Flawless and divine
Yet no light shines through our eyes anymore
Nothing more than hollow perfect creatures
We have perfected the art of deception
The art of pseudo compassion
Like the light of an angler
We draw in those
We only wish to consume
Surely, we have evolved
From bandits, highwaymen, and thieves
We have become licensed bandits
Licensed highwaymen
And licensed thieves
"All for the greater good"
We whisper to ourselves
Every night before we sleep
Hoping our dreams stop the pain
Hoping our dreams pause the fragility
Of our brittle compassion
We boast as love.
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 4:22 PM UTC
When I was young and simple
I never understood why and when
Adults lost their color
When and how did growing up
Into an autonomous being
Become the wasting away of eccentricity?
Until that is
I grew up
And saw first hand how it happens
Gradually, you begin to dull
Until you look around the world
And realize the color has all but vanished
Every step along the way
To "growing up"
Means at every stop, you must sell another piece
At every station along your life
You have to shave off another slab
Another offering, to get you "back on track"
Until you finally made it!
As retirement nears
You begin to remember that basket
Full of all the childlike wonders
You cut off to get you where you are now
And it pains you
Retirement finally comes
And you are handed back that basket
With all the once glowing ideas
But it feels heavy
And foreign
And what was once the inspiration of your entire existence
Is now dull and grey
And so are you
Who sold all the imaginations and innocence
To grow up.
Mar 20, 2025
Mar 20, 2025 at 1:21 PM UTC
At the end, what do we all ask for?
What do we desire in the final moments of life?
Why is it that we call out to those whom we love?
Why do we reach out to those who give us warmth?
Is it because we know at the very end,
That nothing else matters,
But love?
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 3:10 PM UTC
There once was a story of a little bird
Who lived in a cage by the window
And everyday, the little bird would look outside
To see the sky sprawled as far as its little eyes could see
The little bird knew not was out in the skies above
But he knew,
And it burned within him
That someday,
Someday, he would make it into the open world
For many years, as it watched
It saw rain, and sunlight
Storms and tranquil nights
Always in love with it
Always yearning for that world
Finally, the day came when the bird made it outside
Finally on the other side of the window
Without bars or cages to stifle his flight
The Bird had the every and all direction
To fly into the endless horizon
But.
The Bird went nowhere
Despite the absence of the cage
Because now that he had his moment
He realized he was far too afraid
To decide for himself his own journey
So he waited
And waited
Until many years later
The Bird decided what he wanted most
But time had left him older and slow
And the Bird never left
Despite the open world around him
Because he feared
That his decisions
Could be wrong.
Dec 2, 2024
Dec 2, 2024 at 4:42 PM UTC
The longer I live and from atop the privileged pedestal
Life has fortuitously handed me
I realize just how easily it is
To use such exquisite balconies of wealth and opportunity
To rob the ones below you under the guise of necessary evils
Corruption takes the form of whatever benefits the bearer
A slurry of desires and wants, that taste like needs
But only for a bitter taste to be left in the end
An elixir of lies, mixed with truth,
Designed to acquire more, through meticulous maneuvering
All the while, those fed such a potion
Taste the notes they desire, the notes they need
And such fears to lose those tastes
Were calculated to spurn just that,
Fabricated addiction.
Evil no longer wears the face of armies and war
Corruption no longer is a fat man in a small suit
With money bags surrounding his dinner table.
No.
Humanity's greatest enemies no longer openly walk the streets
But rather fester in the privacies our minds
Nov 26, 2024
Nov 26, 2024 at 11:20 AM UTC