HRTsOnFyR Apr 14

I have outgrown many things.
I have outgrown relatives who gladly offer criticism but not support.
I have outgrown my need to meet family's unrealistic expectations of me.
I have outgrown girls who wear masks and secretly rejoice at my mistakes.
I have outgrown shrinking myself for those who are intimidated by my intelligence and outspoken nature both.
I have outgrown friends who cannot celebrate my accomplishments.
I have outgrown people who conveniently disappear whenever life gets a little dark.
I have outgrown those who take pleasure in gossiping and spreading negativity.
I have outgrown dull,meaningless conversations that feel forced.
I have outgrown those who don't take a stand against ignorance and injustice.
I have outgrown trying to please everyone.
I have outgrown society constantly telling me I'm not beautiful,smart, or worthy enough to achieve anything.
I have outgrown my tendency to fill my mind with self doubt and insecurity decades ago.
I have outgrown trying to find reasons not to love my humble self.
I have outgrown anything and anyone that does not enrich the essence of my soul.
I have outgrown many things and I've never felt freer.

~Poem by Chanda Kaushik

HRTsOnFyR Apr 13

So here we are,
My falling Star,
Upon this road of life...
Two souls, so lost,
Whose paths did cross
Whilst roaming through the night.
With child's eyes
We recognized
Our parent's silent grief;
Their wasted years
Soon disappeared,
As time's a ruthless theif.
Sole heirs to pain,
We've shared this shame,
And felt the fears, which sought us.
Confusions grew,
As no one knew,
Just how much they'd never taught us.
Self hatred bred,
And blindly led,
Our rebel-minded causes.
Such sweet escapes
Those drugs create,
When sorrow finally pauses.
Hearts turned to stone,
We've wept alone,
Convinced the World forgot us.
With every chance
Each circumstance
Did have, they surely fought us.
Yet here we are
My falling Star,
Two broken hearted lovers,
Whom fate did yearn
To grow, to learn...
And so we're bound forever.

HRTsOnFyR Apr 10

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

HRTsOnFyR Mar 26

Love a man whose strength of character precedes him on his journey in life.

Love a man who’s not afraid to stumble and fall, only to pick himself up and face the wind once more.

Love a man who’s made mistakes and whose heart is etched with scars of long lost loves, lingering embraces and kisses that tore at the soul.

Love a man who listens to his inner guides, and not knowing exactly where they lead, picks up his sword and leads his horse into the dark of a forest from where he may never return.

Because he has faith in his dreams, even those that leave him broken and in need of a fresh start.


Because he is the wizard of his own destiny, weaving the strands of the unknown into a tapestry that he can cover himself with when times are hard.

Because he is a warrior and he is hungry for a life that is lived without regrets.

Love a man whose smile is honest and whose eyes fell you to your knees.

Love a man who will turn away from safety, trusting that his passions are a danger he cannot live without.

Love a man whose hands know how to explore your secrets and his body awakens every sin you’ve ever craved—he won’t judge you, he’s a worshiper of the Feminine.

Love a man whose tears are hot, who bathes in the ashes of his mistakes. Love him when his eyes are shadowed, when he walks the beach in search of his muse, when he stands naked in a soul consuming fire; because he’ll come out stronger than before. He’s promised you that and he keeps his word.

A man who understands the journey, will not apologize for where his mind leads him. He will seek wisdom from any place that it hides. This man is a visionary, and he seeks a woman whose life is her own.

He will own you if you ask it, but only when you allow him into your darkest requests. He will advise you if you need it, but give you space to follow your own truth. He will understand that your journey is a battlefield only you can lay yourself down on.

But ask him for protection and you’ll hear his sword rasp out of its shield.

Love a man who dreams of the future but never wastes today.

Love a man whose intensity keeps the wolves at bay.

Leave your door wide open, he will come to you when you need him – stranger, seeker, sinner; thinker.

Men on their journey push past the mists of the unknown and bare themselves to loss or gain, whichever will find him first, and trusting in the process, awaken stronger, more alive, gifting the world with their insights and inventions.

Men on their journey will enjoy your mind, will yearn to learn from you—will find their pleasure in discovering your truth.

Men on their journey are wild and sensual. Because their soul knows no boundaries, their thoughts are limitless, their voices can either soothe or excite.

Love a man who shakes loose the questions of the ages, who throws himself in to the sea, seeking salty respite from the ravages of his quests, who listens to the call of mermaids, and believes that the spirit world holds more wisdom than all the books in the world.

Love a man who’ll be on his journey until his dying day.

You’ll know him by his integrity. He’ll never tell you that he’s finished being the adventurer.

You'll know him by his vulnerable heart.

HRTsOnFyR Feb 2

Birth of heart, lost in time
Like old light, soul of water
Firey sea , wave of mind
Cold white sky, hollow trees
Softened dreams fall and rise
Fear is lost, fallen power
Beneath bones hope lives wild
Quiet heat, sense of self
Gentle death, God, and night
Spirit lines, silent grasses
Spring of stars, moonlit smile
House of steel, looms of darkness
Angels dance, brightly veiled
Body song, world forgotten
Ancient feet, talking trails.

HRTsOnFyR Nov 2016

Mother! Father!
Moon and Star!
How I wonder what you are....

By Fire's light and Earth's own pull,
You've stirred the waters of my soul.

I've felt you closer than my skin.
A dance with Death;
Life's one true kin.

But don't despair,
My Winged One;
I'd never ask you fly alone.

HRTsOnFyR Nov 2016

Light as a feather
We flow like the river,
Treading so softly
The grass never quivers,
Laughing and loving
And threading our fingers,
May friendship and beauty
Be all we let linger.

HRTsOnFyR Oct 2016

Seated on the edge of the riverbank
Watching raindrops fall across the city light's reflection;
A living Monet of color and fluidity and the sutble refractions of life.
The bridge above me is humming with traffic,
The railyard to my left fills the cold night with the timeless bellowing of midnight trains,
Used syringes lay amongst the driftwood here.
A crudely painted swastika adorns the trail head,
Overgrown with brambles bushes and blackberry vines.
A solitary beaver cruises the shallow dregs of shore
On an endless quest to find her mate,
Painfully unawares of his fate,
Fallen victim to a poacher,
Some careless fool with a greedy and discontented heart.
The tents and tarps of Portland's homeless, the lost and forgotten, line these hillsides;
Their many dreams and hopes lie broken amidst the rubble of this everyday existence.
I sit here often, smoking and thinking, and watching the ever changing lights.
Every now and again I take a picture, gather a stone, or fall asleep to the sound of rain
And the smell of earth and leaves and rushing water.

HRTsOnFyR Aug 2016

Walk a mile in this soul
And you'll see what I see
All that loves turns to gold
All that's lost sets you free

No matter the cost
I'ma keep being me
Ain't no price for what I've bought
Except my own pair of wings

Shout out to Harlon Rivers for the inspiration for this from the title of his collection, and to the old homeless man I met in Mobile Alabama who shared some of his poetry with me, for he is the subject of the matter.
HRTsOnFyR Aug 2016

It matters not what lies behind
Or what may lie ahead,
When waking dreams and evil things
Reside in each man's head.
They rattle chains and haunt our brains,
They feast upon our fears;
Consuming joy and hope and trust,
And all that we've held dear.
We hear their cries and stoke the fires,
Descend with them to Hell;
We share their shame, but not in blame,
Then fight amongst ourselves;
'Tis rare one sees
That which he flees
Is but a timeless mirror.
From brilliant men, to hapless hearts,
To wicked, wretched souls...
They are no more, nor less, than we;
But fractions of one whole.
Though he may lack in this or that
While others seem to reign;
With better looks, or smarts in books,
More power, wealth or fame;
We mustn't bend to arrogance,
Nor envy, just the same...
For he who dims his brothers light
Still hath no brighter a flame;
Instead he lessens all our sight
And squanders his own gains.
Have faith in ALL that's here below
Was ordered, first, above.
And suffers much, the eldest man,
Outliving all he's loved;
While rich men live, as paranoids,
And poor men toil in pain.
The simple man, a laughing stock,
And genius feels insane.
While beauty's forged the darkest hearts,
As shallow, they became.
And lives of ease have yielded sloth
And left good bodies lame.
So none can measure, nor divide,
The worth of Moon and Sun....
Like bird and beast,
As Earth to Sea,
Dependent on the One.
The seasons change,
As well they should,
And ne'er can we forget....
We're nigh but little cosmic spokes
Whom churn the Infinite.
And so these planets and their stars
Keep wheeling 'round the sky,
The watchmen keeping track of time,
Our souls all keeping ties.

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