This poem was written in response to the senseless slaying of Kayla Chapman, a local convenience store clerk in Kelso WA who was brutally gunned down after complying with robbers requests for money and cigarettes. She was such a neat person.

A slight streak of purple,
A smile like a flower,
A warm friendly voice, In a late midnight hour,
You added so much, to our own little hood,
You brightened our nights, and made us feel good.
Now you're not here, I cannot believe,
Your bright light's been stolen,
For that we all grieve.

We won't let this stop,
We won't let this rest,
Till all those responsible, are put to the test.
Your life wasn't meaningless,
Your life was so dear,
A smile on a dark night, A welcoming ear.
I give you this poem
, from my heart, through my tears,
I'll never forget you Through all of the years.
God bless you Kayla Chapman, you touched my heart

The Hurting, - they say some things are worst than death and this is one of them.

Sometimes, in instances of grueling
                                 pain
I think
of being
with the                 clouds

you made
that decision
&
you’d have
no idea
How much it
hurts.. where
Was your              judgement
*** this hurts
More than anything.
&
I’m sorry, you had to
go that way.
The clouds lament
your passing on
clear, sunny days.
They overshadow the
very demon you
tried to escape from.
&                                  
I’ve made a promise
To live for you.
To show you
that it didn’t have
To be this way.

You’re gone forever.
Lost within the fabrics of time
I’ll carry you as a lantern -
inside of me
till the end of the days.

&
I hope you finally can rest.
For once.
                                          
                                     Goodbye
                                      Forever
                                      Bao Bao
We miss you already.

Bao Bao - 2000-2018

Neons red in rain drops
bleeding down the window
a prayer for the ones
deserving more than they got.
Knew one,
a little buttercup,
parchment pale skin
and the bluest eyes
never caught a break
like a pigeon
with a low hanging
wing
on the ground it trails
left to peck in the gutters
with all the others
but the others
can always fly away.

You hear them murmur
their voices so weak
You must stand completely still to even hear a peep
They sound so earnest
Concerned more like
Every once in a while
A voice rises in pitch
intense and tight