The redundrum bush blooms, blocking my windows view of the street... I really don't mind though. not sure if I'll ever sleep. wanting to play guitar, but can't feel words enough to sing. waiting for online therapy, when there's nothing wrong you can see from a screen.
Blooms from the bush outside my window block the noise from the street. I lay in bed where I've been for days wondering if I'll ever sleep. too busy for even the bare minimum, the shower is not a place I can see me being. I should get clean, and I want to eat, but there's not been a thing in my fridge for weeks, except the bread from last Saturday that I keep forgetting needs meat. I haven't made it to the store in months. On every daily list that I used to make, there was a space that always read, "groceries".
But I haven't made it to the store because I've been so busy, unable to get out of bed, unable to play or sing... Im hid away from something, but I think that "something", is here in bed with me.
listening to the Sun get hot then dim, and do it all over again, behind the redundrum blooms at my window, blocking my view of the street, showing nothing here wrong with me
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 6:40 AM UTC
Rain-soaked rhododendron
outside my window,
I'm needing to leave bed,
but can't seem to let go.
I've nowhere near a quiet mind,
mine never seems to slow.
But feelings aren't real
unless action is taken,
so,
I get up just to show
(the rain-soaked rhododendron
outside my window) that today,
it's what I'm thankful for.
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 12:16 PM UTC
i strained to read lips that read words at a whisper,
behind hypnotizing curls black like campfire smoke
dizzyingly dark, do dream filled eyes devour,
as perfectly parted pink lips mouthed syllables that tempt
my throat to dry and my own lips to lick.
she sat
her supple mahogany brown skin
wrapped in fur lined bomber jacket,
her mind held captive
in a small, green
book.
there, by the ferry window she sat
still quiet echoing inside
in a moment of pondering gaze,
book lowered and head did raise
as we docked, both rose, and went our separate ways
leaving me to wonder …
wha twas it that she recited in silent soliloquy
which swam so safely ‘round her mind ?
from such a small book, with assumedly small lines,
to hold hands with such poetry
It must’ve been a truly
beautiful
write.
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 7:52 PM UTC
limbs red like fire along walkways of yellow sun
wood-lined streets that beckon for winter to come
a season of summers stiff, death rattle
late fall's brisk winds twitch a closing chapter
colors that fade to stillness under solemn white
sleeping beneath longer & longer, heavy nights
after great darkness has stretched out its farthest,
snowy grounds melt and latent life's dawn is lit
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 12:38 PM UTC
40 bucks to make it
6 minutes late, to watch
20 cameras and read
1 book for
8 hours.
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 12:38 PM UTC
Like I was missing something
that was never there,
something created in my mind -
a feeling, a friend,
just pretend.
Comfort.
Trust.
Care.
peace .
All parts inside me,
perhaps a 'second set of eyes'
helped ta reveal
what was difficult to see -
in me, by me,
but, mirrored in another's eyes,
I have. finally.
and now a bud grows on my windowsill
from something I truly thought I'd lost -
the one I thought I'd killed.
but there it is: Beauty, Hope,
in dawn's orange light.
what was gone, now is New,
by no fault of mine.
potential for my best day ever
i meditate, prepare,
then shower & out.
Here we go again
we shall see
I'll take notes
for what could be
one More time, again
again
..
shedding skin.
shedding skin.
out with the old
in with the truth -
Finding who I am
when I don't have a 'you'
again.
Shedding skin.
to Original colors
stripped down past the blue,
revealing the real me, set free
not just what I've been through.
Finding myself all over again.
shedding skins
Aug 25, 2025
Aug 25, 2025 at 2:44 AM UTC
The call to Oblivion
gets harder to resist
A desire to be numb
so obviously persists
Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 10:01 PM UTC
a flame shadow-boxes a dance
with it's reflection in a cup
the scent of sandalwood
burns rings in the dark
taking too long to stand, forcing straight
the back of a now older man
before turning to bed & book
clicking of the nightstand lamp
straining eyes & resting mind
seek the comfort of thoughtless dreams
that drift through the night
sweet
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 10:21 PM UTC
Reminisced with the Wind,
starting my day off early
'tween two train cars
bound for Jersey.
Broke down and bought me
first pack of smokes in months
loaded up for days on coffee
and skipping lunch.
Bells play a tune
as bright as snow
across the field where I sit
on a bench in the cold
Churches lock their
doors in the states,
no one goes in
when it's not Sunday.
When the sun hides its eyes
you find other places to pray.
Kinda missing the warmth
of those French summer days.
... and it's not true what she said,
Its not an,"ex (i) can't get over,"
its a feeling .
Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
one little thing at a time
...and bring a pen.
I feared i might sober up
and there wouldn't be much to write,
but slowing down to take a look,
moving at the pace of life,
not rushing it,
but taking it as it is,
seems so much more now to jot down,
I can hardly keep up with pen.
This is where the real poetry is,
and where it's always been...
Those loooong Journeys
cross-countries by foot,
and deeper still,
on more spiritual quests within.
Strolling along without worry or care,
relying on faith without understanding of a godlike dose of "luck"
that seems ta always just, be here.
The poetry is in the moment
when it's written, where it's found,
life exciting, breathing, be still and
witness it all around.
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 2:18 PM UTC