#fact
If you know what buttons to press.
If you know me that well....
There is great responsibility with great power.
Mark my words.
If you indeed know exactly what to say to bring me down or lift me up.
And you choose to tear me apart?!
I have every right to weep you from a distance!
Mark my words, however....
If you certainly know exactly what to do to bring me up, or push me down.
And you choose to build me together?!
Heaven will bow down to lift you up, and I will rejoice whether I have the right to or not!
Mar 19
Mar 19, 2026 at 2:45 PM UTC
To argue your perspective in a concise and eloquent manner in court.
Those who lob false accusations must continue to lie and try to tear down the truth.
Yet, the beauty of trails of paper and properly kept records, when the evidence is not against, but in favor of you:
Why harbor the heavy conscience?
When the burden of proof is truly no weight for you,
For the innocent bare no responsibly to prove that they are such and feel nothing but indignant for facing trumped-up allegations.
Who would not feel anger?
Rather, those who bring forth the issue must beyond a reasonable doubt prove the accused's culpability and convince others of their guilt resolute.
Especially in those cases of collectives versus individuals,
As in cases brought against or by the many state & federal apparatuses around the globe,
Or as in the cases of employer versus labor.
In natures both competitive & cooperative,
Romantic & platonic;
By many chandeliers & candelabra
Do we each tend to different flames,
But the fires burn the same.
In innumerable different ways,
The things we say are indistinguishable
Even if they are misinterpreted or mistaken.
The things we say are often the same,
But either wrongly said or poorly received.
How much is simply the cause
Of grave miscommunication?
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 11:56 AM UTC
Hostile & aggressive speech
On the behalf of any individual/party,
By any speaker.
That a man is presumed innocent
And with that he is given
The benefit of doubt,
The burden of evidence
Lies on the accuser.
But first the case
Must make it before the courtroom
And stand trial under judge and possibly jurors.
Wherein if things were perfect
And this were some utopia;
Honest & fair judicial proceedings
Without differentiatons or distinctions,
But a base which takes into ruling
Merit of the content of character
And possibility & potential.
Less rushing, greater depth of dialogue, and fitter tailored.
Asking, "What would I have done?"
Saying, "What should I do?"
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 8:24 AM UTC
It's easy to talk like you know it,
To portray that you have good insight
And possess an informed perspective.
To pretend that you're knowledgeable,
Considerate, introspective.
At least, it sounded smart in your head.
Something was lost in translation
When it was finally written or said.
I assure you I really do care
And I can explain why I don't.
You must have misheard me
Or not have understood me,
I was the one speaking
So I think I'm the authority on the conversation.
Despite you having me dead to rights,
Clearly in quotes,
I demand for denial & the presumption of it
As I maintain my innocence.
That is fake news, misinformation,
And a misrepresentation of the situation.
Totally baseless claims & pure speculation.
Whatever lies at the root,
Regardless truth.
I'm sorry you feel that way but,
Despite any piece of evidence,
That's just your opinion.
These are politically scientific opiums,
These noxious feral serums
Poison the whole of living,
Whether local or national
As collective or individual.
Hostile & aggressive speech
On the behalf of any party/individual,
By any speaker.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 2:24 AM UTC
Then there was man
Who fought the wild
Braved the winter
Dodged the sun
Made the fire
Rode a wheel
Tilled the land
Dug the sand
Brought water
Carved cities
Read books
Pulled the trigger
Went to space
Ruled a people
Left a *****
A fragile Y
That has to
Somehow
Beat 2X
To stay in the fight...
Jan 28, 2025
Jan 28, 2025 at 12:53 AM UTC
I do not go through life fearless, nor do I wait until I've conquered fear
Everything I do I do despite fear, fight through every tear, must be better than the prior year
I'm sure there's a word for exactly that, that's a fact, but I call it living
Acknowledge when I fall flat, remember there's no safety mat and I must never go back to the beginning
That's who I want to be, that's what I want to say
But that is not the me I wake up with everyday
I'm unsure,
Insecure,
Immature,
With a bit of a temper
I could go on and on, stop me when it starts to sound familiar...
©2023
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 8:48 PM UTC
Conflagration,
Conflict & confusion.
Consternation,
What comes, and has been.
Condemnation,
Of fact, and of fiction.
Comatose.
One world, many nations
Aug 31, 2023
Aug 31, 2023 at 7:47 PM UTC
the sailing stones
were thought to be
a phenomenon
it was incomprehensible
that a rock
the inanimate
of all inanimates
should show signs
of movement
here was mystique
here was mystery
perhaps a message
left by
cosmic energies
or
higher beings
undecipherable
unexplainable
there could have been
beauty
in never knowing
in letting
the idea remain
pure
untainted
restorative
alas
we cannot bear
the unexplained;
where the miraculous
is founded
in uncertainty
we must probe
and pry
until an answer
is found
whether for benefit
betterment
or
hindrance
perhaps a balance
can be found
between the known
and what remains
acceptably unknown
before
the intrigue
and enchantment
are marred by
the bland
the sterile
the prosaic
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 9:53 AM UTC
🆂🅾🅼🅴🆃🅸🅼🅴🆂 🆈🅾🆄 🆆🅸🅻🅻 🅷🅰🆃🅴 , 🆆🅷🅸🅲🅷 🆈🅾🆄 🅷🅰🅳 🅻🅾🆅🅴🅳 🅾🅽🅲🅴
🄰🄽🄳 🅈🄾🅄 🅆🄸🄻🄻 🄻🄾🅅🄴 , 🅆🄷🄸🄲🄷 🅈🄾🅄 🄷🄰🄳 🄷🄰🅃🄴🄳 🄾🄽🄲🄴
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 11:23 AM UTC
No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them.
By that love, we see potential in our beloved.
Through that love, we allow our beloved to see their potential. Expressing that love, our beloved's potential comes true.
Oct 11, 2021
Oct 11, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
I hate how I love this feeling
Warmth that crawls through each vein
All control lost in it's presence
Dependency driving insane
I ride wave like a surfboard
Wherever it may go
No matter how low it carries me
Don't have the will to let go
Time spins circles around
Feels like I am frozen in place
Not only am I not in first
Not even running the race
But wings of comfort lift
In the air while I am high
I inevitably come crashing down
That comfort is only a lie
Hardly notice pain when I land
The drugs have made me numb
It is only when I run out of them
That I am forced to face what I've become
I watch dreams slip out of hands
They fly somewhere out of range
In their place are thorny regrets
Does not seem like a fair exchange
Nothing good blooms here anymore
Body became a barren wasteland
Only the occasional tumbleweed
Rolls across desert of sand
My soul scorched and blackened
Like earth where lightning struck
All the universe offers me
A pocketful of bad luck
The world a beautiful place I know
To me it no longer looks that way
Envy the people who still see it as such
From my perspective surroundings are grey
Maybe if I hold on a little longer
Blue skies will one day return
It's hard to hope when you've witnessed
Everything you love and care for burn
And it is even harder living
Amidst ashes of your greatest desire
When you cannot escape the awful fact
You're the one who started the fire
Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 2:39 AM UTC
Taking the story forward,
there are these people, all along the edges
of tyrannies in states of peace,
outlaws and anarchaltypes,
heroes for the meek,
the meekest of them all.
The man who thought, he shot
Liberty Balance,
edgewise, or we are ******* in wrong,
but, he fired off a round
of conjecture
f'sure,
no sweat, see the space we cease being,
doing we the *******
and we morph, cool way to say, we change
we become the point of life. We the living.
All our ancestors inherited the wind.
We hold it in our fists. Be gentle.
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 12:38 PM UTC
Cultural fantasy. 1
we are all fantasists, with a skeptical façade; for cultural appearances.
Most of us desire wealth, power, *** love, or improbable things and are fantasists as regards our own reality.
Ironically those of us that openly desire the improbable are labelled dreamers, and those that cling to a collective cultural reality are deemed level headed.
In conclusion we are all fantasists, with a skeptical façade; for cultural appearances, each choosing to remain swathed in our own egos, desires and self beliefs.
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 3:17 AM UTC
Cape Town café
drink up it's gospel brew
as black as ink
and I will ask you
what you're thinking
how you're feeling
is my love only in theory?
does it mystify?
look plainly at
your hot cup of gloom
watch it stimulate the tongue
and give away
fidelity's holy fire
that once lit the fuse
of addiction
within the skin of this burning man
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 10:35 PM UTC
We will definitely be someone
who is destitute
when it comes to love.
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 10:38 AM UTC
Deny the fact
Live in a dream...
The reality was not meant
for some of us.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 1:53 PM UTC
She's a poet who writes for relief
and that made her a thief
Destroy every joyful people's belief
because she writes poetry
that will make you feel such grief. —Tin
Feb 21, 2021
Feb 21, 2021 at 10:41 AM UTC
There you were on 658 North Skyline drive, visiting the place where you once called home
With those innocent, helpless girls on your restless, manic mind.
At the age of twenty-five, a hopeless law-student drop out
Sitting in the blistering hot Summer Tacoma heat in your battered beige Volkswagen windows down,
wind blowing on your ruddy face.
Wishing you had a flashy Maserati
Thousands of beads of sweat trickle down your head like a waterfall.
Frustrated and exhausted
Knowing the fate what's going to become of the pretty, carefree girls laughing, walking ahead on the street by your car, but they're completely unaware.
The reminisce of cheap beer and stale cigarettes on your breath
As you quickly glance at your velvet crowbar, that resides on your chair-less passenger side, so desperately wanting another hit.
Jittering with panic inside, that familiar feeling surges with an adrenaline rush in your body, going from zero to eighty in 0.01 seconds
You start to get in a trance with self-destruction, panicking with chaotic anger beginning to emerge again, in waves like the ocean.
The entity begins to set in
Yet something abruptly stops you.
Holding a crumbled picture of dear Elizabeth and Molly, you keep your wallet in your right blue jean back pocket.
Yet you don't give in to your double life.No. Not this time.
Letting the devastating, destructive behavior from the entity consume your entire being.
As you begin to have sudden regret ignoring the powerful, impatient fidgety urge.
Ten girls have now suddenly evaporated into thin air, caused by your harmful doing.
Police and newspaper sightings of a certain man named "Ted" have appeared out of the woodwork,
But you keep that identity hidden under lock and key.
Newsflashes pop up at the five o'clock hour, but nothing seems to phase you into utter shock.
Now sitting in an unclean, rat-infested jail cell in Colorado
The walls only seem to know the REAL you
The light fixture is almost sawed off entirely to your liking, for your excitingly filled escape, set for tonight.
Going through the small labyrinth of the ceiling of the jail,
New, fresh, clean clothes on, and annoying coveralls off
You open the front door, as a blast of the bone-chilling cold goes through your body,
Fast, snow falling on the ground, and luckily a car with its doors unlocked
You now fade away into the blackness.
After you've completed the horrendous event in Lake City that you so desired to do on a whim
There's now no recollection of your recent event, even though you were there.
The trees with the wind are whispering and gossip your horrific acts.
Only they truly know your lawless stories
A couple of years has rolled by,
Trial after trial, day in and day out
Hoping and confident that you'll win, but each time, you've disappointingly lost.
Judge Cowart sits on his throne, tentatively listens
The buzz from the ***** and pills that your beloved Carole snuck in for you is finally beginning to wear off.
Irritation sets
As you razzle-dazzle each individual with your stealthy charm
The time has finally come that the jury decides your ultimate, timely fate
Flash forward to eight years on death row, with that heavy metal that you wear
Living in a concrete castle, in a desolate foreign land
Indeed not Buckingham Palace.
Rowdy, loud, ***** unclean, unshaven men surround you.
Something that your not used to doing.
Not the place you wish to be at the moment.
Body odor and sweat with no air conditioning in a stagnant, minuscule cell might also be Hell on Earth.
While just an old malfunctioning fan tries to keep you cool from Florida's oppressive heat.
You talk to the four walls, that listen when the detectives get fed up and bored. With your perpetual beating around the bush rhetoric.
You wasted your life on behalf of your destructive behavior and wrong choices
Time is ticking faster and faster when you only have a few days left till death day arrives
Rose is officially gone and is now a long distant faded memory of your failed career of a deadbeat father and husband.
It's been a few years since you last saw her and Carole as they vanished from your life.
Vanished and stolen.
Like the girl's lives, you had vanished and stolen from happy families only to destroy when you willingly obeyed and fulfilled the entity's destructive wish.
Your tears become your lullaby, for your last night on Earth.
January 24th, 1989.
Your expiration date has arrived.
Rowdy, drunk onlookers are at your last hurrah
The warden swiftly comes to your death watch cell and wakes you up from the unrestful, anxiety-filled sleep you had gotten
Are you ready? He asks you.
No longer now is a handsome forty-two-year-old, but a shaven bald gangly, ailing man, with the appearance of looking like a sixty-year-old who's unrecognizable to one's eye.
"Deadman walking," the warden shouts.
Emotionless expression looks of people that you've once known in your past are now seated in small white chairs
As officers restrain you in the infamous wooden chair, of the many in-humane men who've gone, years before your time.
Adjust your electric crown
Nerves begin to quake internally like a rattlesnake
And in less than a flash, with two- thousand volts, you'll be gone from this world forever.
At approximately 7:16 am, you're pronounced dead.
Alone & Forgotten.
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 9:36 PM UTC
There is no excusing what you did
Not greater betrayal than that
Heavier now than it was before
That is certain fact
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 5:15 AM UTC
My past sits before me in a cushioned armchair
mimicking my crossed legs
a swaying foot
I’m so focused on its story
that the walls surrounding begin flickering swiftly
yellow, grey, violet, grey, yellow
in minute intervals, everything else vanishes
except a voice that travels from there to here
the words ever changing as they go, and finally settling upon the tips of my fingers
then, comes to me, names that nurture the weeds in my veins
from my first love, a bright doe
through the birds, vampires and ghosts
all the way to Pan
to cultivate this breathtaking wildflower is my fantasy
so that its fragrance will entrance me into a state of sleep
and take me to a place where resolution is needless
between me and the cushioned chair
are miniscule grains of actuality blended with accidental lies
I know there’s no literal plant
just as I know that there’s no literal resolution
and that it’s not really my fault
I was always good enough to have it all
therein lies the perfect balance of pain and joy
for I do not have any of those people anymore, this is fact
for that’s just how life works, this is faith
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 4:02 PM UTC
Regardless
Who is it
While smiling
If you didn't notice
Sparkle in the eyes
That stimulates a mind
And soothes a soul
Never question
Your beating heart
What you saw
Trust me
That's an illusion
Or a painted void
Or a disguise
Or a mask
Or just another lie
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 10:08 AM UTC
Only if you have
Been through
8:30 version of me
You know me well
When I am high
Not that high
What you may have thought
Ink is blue
When I feel low
Not that low
What you may be thinking
Ink is dark
And mostly
Yes mostly
That is my diary
Not camouflage
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 10:04 PM UTC
There were sparks in her eyes that no one can see
She admired someone she wanted to be
Yet, it was destroyed by reality
She said to herself, " I can only be me".
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 1:21 PM UTC