I write to create a world where I belong.
I write to feel at peace within my surroundings.
I write to provide a safe space between my heart and my mind.
I write so that I don't judge.
I write so that I learn.
I write because knowledge makes me feel safe.
I write because to write, I have to read...... A LOT!
I write to calm the daily anxiety-
I write to calm the bouts of unbearable anxiety.
I write to my depression.
I write so that I can climb inside my own universe and lose myself in my imagination.
I write because my heart would surely break if I didn't.
I write not for you to read, but for me to purge.

I write because the child within me, demands that I stay true to myself.
I write because it's the only form of art that lifts me up, that quietens my hyper sensitivity and unpredictable mind.

I write because if I don't release my thoughts, they'll turn inward and manifest into black.
I write because words are powerful.
I write because it's my life and my choice.
I write because to not write, would mean to lie to my soul
I write for solitude, for happiness, for gratitude.
I write to belong
I write for love.
I write to save me from myself.
I write to protect myself from my most damaging enemy, my fear....
I write because it's my only way through to the other side.
But mostly I write, because it simply makes me happy....

the river overflows down to the sea,      
a wintry song to tame the reveled night,
and born of love the stars blaze ever bright,
with soft-ringed beams that sigh like poetry.
dark woven hour, how you inspire me,
the midnight gleams with pools of paean light,
the drowsy moon is shining filmy-white,
the woodlands shrink and dream of sanctuary.
arise on arching wings, oh, song once sung,  
oh, water sprite, oh, lily of the vale,
you pine for love, the forest weaves a spell,
unearthly voice of honey throat and tongue
  i hear you whisper, sing your wild, wild tale,      
  then bid the world goodbye and sweet farewell.

By saving the princess,
you save her kingdom

The brightest figure
upon a hill

gardens of summertime
dew
and creatures
of a thousand colors

blasted forth,
a gentle merging
of something higher
than nuclear
fission

from the depths of
her motes
and heights of
vibration

serve your anima,
so she be in your life
always

‘When the doors of perception are cleansed
Things will appear as they are:
Infinite.’

∞ William Blake

…

‘There are things known
and there are things unknown,
and in between are the doors.’

∞ Jim Morrison

…

Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is opened & the
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confus’d searching
here & there for teachers & friends.

…

People need Connectors
Writers, heroes, stars, leaders
To give life form.
A child’s sand boat facing
the sun.
Plastic soldiers in the miniature
dirt war. Forts.
Garage Rocket Ships

Ceremonies, theatre, dances
To reassert
Tribal needs and memories
a call to worship, uniting
above all, a reversion,
a longing for family and the
safety magic of childhood

…

A man rakes leaves into
a heap in his yard, a pile,
and leans on his rake and
burns them utterly.

The fragrance fills the forest
children pause and heed the
smell, which will become
nostalgia in several years.

…

An angel runs
Thru the sudden light
Thru the room
A ghost precedes us
A shadow follows us
And each time we stop
We fall

…

The Endless quest a vigil
of watchtowers and fortresses
against the sea and time.
Have they won? Perhaps.
They still stand and in
their silent rooms still wander
the souls of the dead,
who keep their watch on the living.
Soon enough we shall join them.
Soon enough we shall walk
the walls of time. We shall
miss nothing
except each other.

…

No one thought up being;
he who thinks he has
Step forward

…

The Crossroads
a place where ghosts
reside to whisper into
the ears of travelers &
interest them in their fate

Hitchhiker drinks:
“I call again on the dark
hidden gods of blood”

-Why do you call us?
You know our price. It
never changes. Death of
you will give you life
& free you from a vile
fate. But it is getting late.

-If I could see you again
& talk w/ you, & walk a
short while in your company,
& drink the heady brew
of your conversations,
I thought

-to rescue a soul already
ruined. To achieve respite.
To plunder green gold
on a pirate raid & bring
to camp the glory of old.

-As the capesman faces
poisoned horns & drinks
red victory; the soldier,
too, w/ his trophy, a
pierced helmet; & the
ledge-walker shuddering
his way into inward grace

-(laughter) Well, then. Would
you mock yourself?

-No.

-Soon our voices must become
one, or one must leave.

…

There was preserved

in her

The fresh miracle

of

surprise.

…

open

The Night is young
& full of rest
I can’t describe
the way she’s dress’d
She’ll pander to some strange
requests
Anything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest