Breathe in, breathe out, a gentle flow,
Shifts in posture, let the tension go.
Adjust the level, find your place,
Acceptance blooms in this sacred space.
Pain may linger, but here we stand,
With open hearts and open hands.
Acceptance goes a long, long way,
In this place, we find our stay.

toxicity is just a human thing; cause of all the fumes we
all love to breathe – do our young men have much chose,
we can all live like men, but need to be trained like boys
if the roof over our troubled fires fell down, would the
smoke clear, or would we be forced to breath it all in?

but that’s how we live because we’re troubled, have dreams
inspired by the ideas of others, treat women less, as men
with no father’s, live in our own shadows because we all
hate our true colours –
                                  we just all want to breath.

Time used to breathe, like us.
But then we turned it into sand
we turned it into a commodity,
something that can be spent, wasted, served
We shackle our wrists with it.

I wish sometimes that we can go back
to a time where time just is
where you can 'waste' a day
doing whatever makes you happy
and not feel ashamed.

Be silent. Listen. Breathe. Easy enough to say, but much harder to put into practice. Sometimes I talk to fill a void. I talk to avoid having to feel the weight of silence like judgement, so I don't have to go down deep and see what actually lives there. Help me deal with my emotions, help me feel my emotions, especially those that are uncomfortable or unnatural to me. Be silent. Listen. Breathe. Maybe the hurts and sadness, the hungers and scars deserve to be recognized for what they are. They are part of life. The help me know and feel I am alive. They help me remember and be more grateful for the many wonderful blessings I have in my life. There is a time for talking, but now it is time To Be Silent. To Listen. To Breathe.

I sit in bed, wondering
how life is quite bittersweet.
Yet we always keep wanting
to live a little longer,
despite of it all.

I sit in bed, thinking
how in every millisecond
we decide to still take
a deep breath,
despite of it all

I sit in bed, contemplating
why we have this desire
to live, to exist, to experience,
despite of it all.

I sit in bed, writing
on my laptop
haphazardly positioned
between two pillows,
legs crossed,
that i still decide
to let the words flow.

I look far beyond the distance of my room,
contemplating, then realizing,
how life should not be always perfect,
(just like this poem)
but I am still here, typing,
for the hope of it all.

I sit watching brown eyes
probe affectionately through the haze
at the mirrors created by close family.
I think the intimacy that is made possible
by the sharing of wine, **** and space
in a dim room full of sad love and smoke
will never ceased to amaze me.
The men see themselves in each other
and are both heartened in their own ways
I am drunk now in my way
and The Mirror is ****** in his
and Brown (Green) Eyes is both at once
Appalachian mouths move in turns
to take a hit or a drink or a shot at wisdom
Suddenly the truth of our three souls is laid bare
on the tiny table there between us.
My heart tightens around the words
as they echo through each chamber
growing louder with each reverberation.
“Happiness is being able to breathe”

Love you, Frank.