#through
forested mind with unknown paths
a Woodpecker taps out an alarm
a bear on hind legs
just entered the Woodpeckers home (territory)
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 9:13 AM UTC
crinkled skin
smooth lips
clothed modesty
a hallowed temple
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 4:34 AM UTC
Jesus spoke of Sparrows and their worth
of their being known by God the Father
tapping in to the Human experience-
the thought of death and the hereafter.
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 7:09 AM UTC
Self harm is not only cutting it’s hitting and biting and burning and hurting your self but mostly cutting people think hurting them selfs is better than getting professional help in reality it’s worst your wrist are covered with cuts from self harm this is why you should get professional help some people can’t get professional help because they don’t want their parents to know and that’s understandable but at least have someone to talk to and if you don’t always text me x
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 6:19 PM UTC
Ad astra per aspera;
a barrier, a stumble, a trip on a crack-ed sidewalk,
cannot leave it behind, so pick up, into pocket slipped,
just an ordinary hardship, won’t stop me yet,
i’m racing striped ahead, each step a reckless adventure,
and the passerby’s all think, “what’s with that guy?”
there is spirit within, that’s greeting this chance of
all that can come my way, happy happening
yeah I’m tripping
over mine own words
surging, burnishing,
burning my tongue,
like a hot coal black ‘n orange
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 11:31 PM UTC
A burning tree stood at the edge of life
Bearing flames of a heavenly night
It's silent scars whispered to the winds
A solitary boat drifted on the river
Feeling the warm embrace of soul
At the brink of life
Beneath a dim tubelight ,a lady held my hand
Pushing me forward against all odds
And a silent tear fell from her gaze
I ran barefoot through the road
My eyes burning red
My vision trembling in the frost
I grasped my heart to pour what lies inside
Lost in the woods ,
Listening to the quiet night
And then the sky begins to fall
Scattering stars across canvas of night
Falling asleep beneath cosmic rain
A gentle wind sings me a lullaby
And my eyes drift into hazy nights
Closing the door to the waking world
A little fairy carries my spirit away
From the land of desires
Whispering softly in my ears ~
" farewell "
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 8:03 AM UTC
At first what comes to my mind?
An important emotion guess what?
It's Trust, which is basic in each relation,
I would give it GREEN to evergreen trees in forest conservation.
Second comes to Loyalty,
I would give it YELLOW like sunflower ,which it gives to sun as its priority.
Third comes to Hope,
I would give to WHITE to be silent and everyone's scope.
Fourth comes to Love, that binds two people,
I would give it PINK for pure and gentle.
Fifth comes to Hatred, an emotion which pulls people apart,
I would give it BLACK to carry only negativity and evils in Heart.
Sixth comes to Happiness, that increases your life,
I would give it RED, which can come from your parents, siblings or wife.
LAST BUT NOT THE LEAST...
Here comes Sadness, it makes you feel low,
I would give it GREY, don't worry it will fade with one BLOW.
THIS IS MY KIND OF RAINBOW,
YES! A RAINBOW OF EMOTIONS .......
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 8:35 AM UTC
Like a storm‑tossed ship, you sail on,
through WINDS THAT ROAR and waves that rail.
Yet even in the chaos, a steady heart
keeps you moving toward gentler land.
The night may rage, the skies may break,
but COURAGE ANCHORS deep and sure.
Though tempests howl and shadows rise,
your spirit holds—unbroken, wise.
And when dawn softens the edge of the world,
you’ll see how RESILIENCE SHINES through all you faced.
The storms fall back, the shore draws near,
and peace returns with calmer seas.
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 8:27 AM UTC
In the maze of DOUBT, where SHADOWS play,
And winding paths lead hearts astray,
A quiet voice within will say,
“Trust yourself, you’ll find the way.”
Though walls may rise and fears confine,
Your compass points with TRUTH divine.
Through twists and turns, both night and day,
It guides your steps, it lights the grey.
At journey’s end, the path is clear,
The trials fade, the LIGHT DRAWS near.
Uncertainty no longer sways,
YOUR INNER COMPASS charts the way.
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 8:41 AM UTC
Through THORNS that PIERCE and trials that sting,
The soul endures what hardships bring.
Yet in the pain, a strength takes root,
A bloom of courage, resolute.
Adversity’s path is sharp and long,
Its shadows DEEP, its winds so strong.
But steadfast hearts refuse to fall,
They rise, and blossom THROUGH IT ALL.
At journey’s end, the roses grow,
Their sweetest fragrance born of woe.
From every scar, a triumph shines,
A crown of roses, LOVE DEFINES.
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 8:33 AM UTC
The weight of TRIALS UPON your frame,
Each burden carved, each test aflame.
Yet in the fire, your spirit grows,
THE WARRIOR heart in struggle shows.
Through storms that strike and shadows near,
STANDING UNBROKEN, free of fear.
The lessons etched by pain and strife,
Become the armour of your life.
And when the dawn reveals the sky,
Your wisdom shines, your strength STANDS HIGH.
FOR EVERY CHALLENGE, harsh and grim,
Has moulded power deep within.
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 8:45 AM UTC
Lock the doors and let the sirens scream,
We’re the nightmare in their perfect dream.
The walls are sweating and the floor is thin,
But we’re the only ones who get to win.
The smoke is rising in a heavy shroud,
The thunder’s calling out our names aloud.
Let the world burn down to the blackened bone,
As long as I don’t have to stand alone.
We’re walking steady through the blinding heat,
With the rhythm of the ruin beneath our feet.
No turning back to the shadows we knew,
Just the gold in the flame and the heart of you.
If the end is coming, let the embers fly,
We’ll be the brightest thing in a dying sky.
Hand in hand as the ceilings tire,
Two souls unscarred, walking through the fire.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 10:28 PM UTC
One day Someone decides they want a boat,
and they plan and begin to build us.
Eventually we arrive, all shiny and new,
there is champagne celebrating, much happiness,
big dreams of traveling oceans,
doing and going to places where none have been.
We spend much effort launching the sailboat,
dragging it to the docks,
much like being dragged to school.
This is where we learn to navigate,
where we find all the features and functions,
how things work.
We start off with the easy stuff—getting on board,
but eventually it’s cleaning the deck, trimming the sails,
using a compass.
Much time is spent in the harbor,
in safety, in preparation
for the day when we must set sail to uncharted waters.
They tell you how rough it can get,
but we often overlook these words,
or they have so much faith in their ability as boat builders
they simply say:
“You can overcome any storm,
no matter what comes your way,”
failing to teach the precautions needed
for that day when you put on your captain’s hat,
pull down your sails, trim them, and leave.
Prepared or not, one thing is certain:
what awaits outside the quiet, safe waters
is nothing you could have imagined.
It is different for everyone.
Yet we head out with great expectations,
on the calmest of days,
sun shining on the water,
the bow of the boat cracking seamlessly through calm seas,
like this is how it’s always going to be.
The first few waves are fun.
We pull faces, surprised at the unexpected,
thinking, okay, I’ve got this.
We are shiny boats, nothing will stop us,
sailing under the guidance of all we learned growing up.
Some boats get little or no guidance,
and you learn along the way.
Others never leave the port
because you are still overloaded with cautionary information,
fear instilled rather than adventure.
Sometimes we are lucky:
we sail along, visiting destinations
without any major event,
especially if towed behind the hand of a wealthy parent’s ship.
But most times, we will always, without doubt,
reach rough waters and foul weather.
It’s never just clean sailing.
Here is where everything we learned along the way,
combined with the boating manual written and passed to us in the harbor,
comes in handy.
Because no matter how well prepared,
at some point you will put on your raincoat and get wet.
Friends are like crew members.
The more friends you have, usually the easier the sailing,
unless they’re there just for a free ride,
not willing to pitch in when the storm gets rough.
Those are the ones lounging on deck with cocktails,
smiling and laughing,
but when the sun hides and the sea rocks your boat,
they are the first below deck,
or worse, they abandon ship.
As you sail through life,
you soon learn who is who in the zoo.
You know you have a friend for life
when waves crash along the deck,
six feet high,
and someone is by your side
with a bucket and flip-flops,
bailing water, shouting,
“Are you ******* kidding me?”
As waves pummel your little boat for hours,
and when the storm passes,
they are there—tired, wet,
happier than you to see the sunrise.
We go through our boats,
assessing what was lost, wrecked in each storm.
Sometimes you lose things of great importance:
a compass, navigation, people.
It’s easy to give up,
unless you remind yourself
sailors before you used the stars, and things are never as bad as you think.
And you might just get where you are going by dumb luck, I guess, and having a friend makes it all that much easier.
If the storm washes someone overboard,
and they are lost to the ocean,
look for them and have patience;
it doesn’t mean we should stop sailing
or turn the boat in circles forever.
Sometimes the ocean takes stuff,
and unless you can still see the life raft,
you are expected to keep sailing on course.
Sadly, as time passes, like age,
we don’t always reach where we ultimately planned.
Sometimes we arrive at places unknown even to the map,
other times stuck in doldrums,
without a breeze to push us through.
This is when you need that ride-or-die friend,
because nothing is worse
than floating in the middle of the ocean alone,
without wind to fill your sail,
alone without anyone to talk **** to and pass the time.
If you were taught to catch fish,
fortunate enough to have a rod,
you shouldn’t go hungry.
If you planned your journey,
enough provisions should last.
But sometimes life doesn’t work like that.
You find yourself surrounded by water,
not a drop to drink.
It’s then we persevere, hope for the rain,
because this is how it goes.
The rain you curse today
might be the same rain that saves your life.
What we cannot prevent
is our little boats becoming weathered:
barnacles, lifting varnish.
Like our bodies, we only get one boat.
Keep it clean, repair it along the way.
Don’t wait until the mast has fallen,
paint chipped, windows layered with grime,
before grabbing a mop and bucket—because who wants to sail on a ***** boat?
If lucky, you meet someone
willing to share the tasks,
help carry each other’s load.
If fortunate, you hire help, or do it yourself.
But remember:
no one wants to clean your shit-covered lavatory.
Your **** your responsibility.
Leaving it for someone else
will likely leave you old and alone and smelling your ***
If you neglect upkeep,
sailing becomes heavy, uncomfortable, dangerous.
No matter how well you care for your boat,
time will age it.
How you treated it before
determines how long it lasts in trying times.
Sometimes we sail to an island,
find safety and shelter, never leave.
Sometimes we stay briefly, then move on,
grabbing a few coconuts along the way.
There’s a thin line between settling
and never appreciating what you find,
constant discontent chasing every sunset,
never truly savoring the sky and beaches.
The truth: no boat sails forever.
Finding a safe place, a harbor,
where storms feel distant,
where friends with buckets and flip-flops sit beside you,
maybe a dinghy or two of your own—
this is the goal.
Any boat that sails will eventually sink.
And that might only matter
if you can swim,
if you get rescued by a passing boat,
or aren’t eaten by sharks.
Remember the first rule of sailing:
there are always sharks.
And when you sink, can’t swim,
you will need people to help rescue you,
or you will either drown, get eaten,
or end up stranded alone
on some island you never intended or just floating until you drown.
When you find your island and harbor, moor your boat,
have fun with the people who stayed true;
the journey is the adventure, but happiness is the destination.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 8:47 AM UTC
Tonight from all but you, beloved, I depart,
And turn my worthless heart to gold through love's pure art.
To taste your breath, the elixir passion gives,
I cast myself into the fire where my spirit lives.
Though harp and lute's enchanting melodies entrance my soul,
Your words—like stars cracked open—make me whole.
You spoke of rain, of thorny paths, of shoes too tight—
Through sleepless nights I sing laments and keep your sorrow bright.
While friends grow drunk on ruby wine in revelry,
I'm drunk on you alone, and beg one glance of mercy.
Should you speak of union in the morning light,
Before each noble soul, I'll stand—your warmth in sight.
I count your laughter hidden in each fleeting line,
Each smile you give transforms my sorrows, makes them shine.
For every grain of love your gentle hands impart,
Like straw to amber drawn, I'm pulled to where you are.
That morning breeze may bring me news of how you fare,
I practice arts of charm with every morning air.
So known I am along the paths your footsteps grace,
The moon herself bows down before your shining face.
Though ruby wine now shimmers in the server's cup,
For love of you, I keep my piety and spirit up.
Since to your face, O graceful cypress, my heart clings,
I turn from both worlds for love's transforming wings.
Though once I sought you night and day through wind and rain,
Now in my heart's own realm, I rule my own domain.
Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 7:49 AM UTC
How am I to say such vigor
specious and amorphous and astringent,
effacing a landscape called yesterday
soon after some shut-eye,
then the jive suspends with
a dissonance creeping in coda
as the overture falls through.
If the clock is right or it feels wrong,
mono-tempo takes over anyway.
Now I see it when looking back.
Enchantment hedged a garden full of lush lives
that I didn’t even know I could ignite
until the season shuffles.
Had I hit my stride? Yes
I keep my head up, but No
I'm upside down, from the outside in.
Clouds that we glided by
are dropping through my hands like sand.
It left me hovering around a layover of sentience
less itinerant than fugitive,
brittle memos that
are in no ways oblivious.
You don’t know your words engraved but
I do.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
Hold your secret, soft and deep,
While silent, watchful thoughts you keep.
A human ear, though kind and dear,
Might let your tender whisper hear.
Go to glass, so still and bright,
And pour your heart into its light.
It listens close with silent gaze,
Through all your hidden, winding ways.
No judging word, no sudden sting,
Just quiet truth the echoes bring.
If sorrow blooms from what you find,
That wound is only for your mind.
Aug 25, 2025
Aug 25, 2025 at 8:38 PM UTC
Are you really doing it this time?
This time, are you really going to leave me,
Because I need someone who deserves me,
Who treats me better than you.
I don't want that,
I doubt you do either.
Please don't follow through,
I need you.
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 10:39 AM UTC
September 2024
few love to sing our Anthem,
almost demanding an operatic
persona, a skilled voice, capable
of great range, but it is a story,
about one man’s imprisonment,
and that phrase:
”Through the perilous fight”
always reminds,
even in peace,
we are forever,
engaged in battle
to be a light among the
nations, a shining example,
and the perils thereof
when we err,
mistake the,
of course!
of
our truest course,
and go adrift
but!
look around,
many, not few,
placing their hand
over the heart,
words reciting,
that’s how I
know, we
yet, still,
want and pray
to be a great nation,
a light unto the world
Feb 5, 2025
Feb 5, 2025 at 4:22 PM UTC
I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I already pulled at my hair.
“It’s normal” he says
I swear just to debate,
cause he doesn’t seem to care.
And I’m bleeding through
my scar tissued skin,
the layers only grew
still I find a way in.
I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I’ll be down to the last strand.
Check or fold the plays,
the cards aren’t that great
I’ll be down the my last hand.
And I’m bleeding through
my thick nice sweater.
It’s a shame as it’s new
and we’re reaching the cold weather.
It will stain the soft fabric
I may just grab the bleach,
but I always made it a habit
to always keep it just out of reach.
I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate
pretty soon I’ll be bald.
On hot coals she stays,
though she shifts her weight
and watches her soles scald.
And I’m bleeding through
my clogged and blocked pores,
and the remaining few
are becoming septic sores.
I’ll shed another layer
of a non-protective bubble,
and my hair will continue to get greyer,
I think I’m now in some trouble.
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 10:35 AM UTC
Believe me you
I'm tired of hearing me too
I'm ready for this era to be through
It's sad to see in both you and me that the same resentment aimed in the same direction grew
©2024
Jun 21, 2024
Jun 21, 2024 at 11:26 PM UTC
I want you to know how I feel
but my words don't reach the extent necessary
to let you know what is real
that I want to be your emissary
but I act so wary
like an actuary
with a knack for staring
judging passing cherries
as cassowaries.
My frustration grinds through a mouthful of teeth
because of the fountain of heat
that lies beneath
my sword in sheath
melting through its protection
bleeding from the rejection
of your outward inflection
thwarting this coward's intentions.
I miss you but I don't even know you
I want to kiss you and hold you
but the issue to that bold move
is that I don't know if it'd go through
like Father Time's sand
passing through my hands
god **** I'm an old man
from your cold canned gold jam
I'm sold bland then soul slammed
by Conan
The Barbarian
in my solarium
solitary terrarium
where nary a sum
equals more than one.
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 10:33 PM UTC