#writerslife
I hate myself
for doing this again to you—
hurting you.
But it’s better than waiting
for you to break my heart;
I’ve seen this story before—
same plot, different actor.
It’s always the same;
you’re no different from them.
I’d rather take love from fictional characters—
the kind that never leaves,
never demands too much from me,
always there—
like ink, forever loyal to the paper.
Nov 2, 2025
Nov 2, 2025 at 12:38 PM UTC
pick ‘em apart -
there’s lot to learn.
speak not -
‘fore it’s your turn:
your words soak dry, maybe -
try a different language;
be sure to see it through, for there’s
comfort beyond the anguish.
more choices, less free;
locked in - can’t find the key;
saw through misery, yet
tough as a tree;
a knight of the absurd,
you bend the knee.
this isn’t the first time
you’ve hit the brick wall.
dash your *** with a pinch of salt -
stir it good, nice and easy;
get a good whiff of that
rare destiny.
for every tear,
there’s a heart that swells -
twice the thought of an oyster shell;
you’re a huntsman through the fall,
not for the wolves to prey;
they wait for you -
to make the wrong turn;
find another way.
Dec 24, 2024
Dec 24, 2024 at 6:59 AM UTC
mind commits a crime:
renders the body unsafe;
the soul bears witness.
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 8:40 AM UTC
'writing's like mass -
God gets mad if you don't show up.'
- earnest hemingway
Dec 16, 2024
Dec 16, 2024 at 8:28 AM UTC
dull and lustless,
i walk the streets -
looking at the trees -
the sweet shops
the library
the branded cabs
the grass fields
the trickling pipes
the street performers
the brown leaves
the eagle’s flight
the day
the ‘real’ men
the ‘real’ women
the idea of them
the average joes
the instagram ******
the mindless jocks
the humbler saints
the rich folks
the poor lepers
the clay pots
the rain
my life;
all devoid of charm.
what’s left to do,
but seek love?
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 9:18 AM UTC
fear is an illusion that feels more real than life itself, at times. scores of artists have succumbed to the despair brought upon by the fear of overexposing themselves. you know them - the writers who won’t write - the painters who won’t paint - and the sculptors who won’t get their hands ***** maybe you’ve even met one or two. or know someone close to you who might be of a certain poignant disposition that’s impossible to ignore. if not, perhaps it’s time to have a closer look at the mirror.
it’s true that those who dare to traverse the forest of the unknown must encounter the beasts that lurk in the darkness. some are benign. some are malevolent. at first, you’re terrified of them all. but as you go farther and deeper into the forest, you soon realize that they’ve become some of your dearest friends, despite all the wounds you’ve inflicted upon each other during your skirmishes. you learn to tame them, feed them, and eventually, cage them. yet after all this, the question, or rather, the fear remains - can you ever bring them out into the real world? and more importantly, what would they do to your mind if you do?
a scary thought for many artists, indeed.
but perhaps these ‘beasts’ may not be as bloodthirsty for our spirits as we might think. perhaps, it’s about how we personify them in our minds. there’s a beautiful poem by charles bukowski called ‘bluebird’ that speaks exactly of this fear, and perhaps even offers an antidote. it immortalises the little bird in the writer’s heart, a rather benign beast, that sings every now and then, unafraid, and in spite of what its captor might think, or feel, or do. it reminds us that it’s okay to let the bird sing every now and then - because it will - and not let it die so finally. it implores us to not sacrifice it at the altar of perfection, but rather be gentle with its humble feathers.
something i believe we could all do with our own little bluebirds.
Dec 11, 2024
Dec 11, 2024 at 11:22 AM UTC
a nervous 𝘵𝘴𝘬 of the lips
a little drop of sweat bulging at the neck
an eyelid flickering way too much
a mind that won’t change
a pillow that reeks of salt
a photograph of a distant memory
a fly buzzing around the plasma tube light
a buzz that won’t go away
a switch that won’t turn off
a stain that won’t dust off
a walk that’s unusual for the age
a kid who refuses to play
it’s the little things that give you away
Dec 8, 2024
Dec 8, 2024 at 8:05 AM UTC
a glass of bourbon
unspent napkins on the side
the cheque is written
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 9:16 AM UTC
Rainbows for chasing,
the moon for the aiming,
forming in clouds, faces
for inspiration,
beckoning, is life ahead
full of credible opportunity,
beside empty promises creating,
truthful reality.
Standing tall, girding *****
I, reached for the unreachable
so - distantly close, impulsive forward, surges.
without doubt,
or plan,
missing by the - conceivably smallest,
actually - furthest amount,
yet still moving through,
pushing the immovable, climbing
the inaccessible,
falling - frequently,
never reaching nethermost depth,
buoyed by a recognition,
realising - all this fighting - striving
failing - miserably,
doing it all - wrong,
was not failure, but a justified lesson
on coping in the mire of existence.
The rainbows beauty explained in science,
gives it simplicity. A reality water and sunlight,
nothing really to chase,
or catch.
Moon - oh moon - my most favourite, still my dreamstone,
is but a stark beautiful presence,
removing sunlight reveals a satellite bleak,
nothing is here to seek,
or take aim,
likewise our cloud perceived faces,
expectations are best - unexpected.
If controlled by endeavour and aquasition
disappointment may be somewhat - repositioned,
attainment of skills formerly devoid of utilisation
revived, re-given to make something, that in truth,
can be ameliorated.
if only to yours truly
.
Still Chasing Rainbows . Michael C Crowder 10th March 2019 @scorsby
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 10:43 AM UTC
What do I do with this blank space
I always have something to say
But today that's not the case
What do I do with empty page
Maybe I can use it to get out of this cage
Maybe I can use it to escape this rage
What shall I do with this unwritten story
Maybe I can write words that will help them speak of my glory
Maybe my words will go down in herstory
What do I do with this bare canvas
Maybe it can bring joy and stop me from being anxious
And maybe it will get rid of all this worldly madness
What do I do on this earth that's not my home
Acquire a defiant syndrome
Or stay hidden under a dome
Forever alone?
The day of my freedom, clearly unknown
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 2:25 AM UTC
Might Put Out A Surprise Book For The Holidays.
Anyone Know An Artist That Can Design The Cover ASAP?
∆
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 10:40 AM UTC
*before the world swallows you whole,
leaving you barely able to exhale all that continues to weigh you down,
or inhale all that is destined to cast away your inner conflictions.
just...
breathe*
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
El Mirador
The Sikh man on the the rooftop balcony,
tells me if I have any problems in this city,
to come and see him,
and he will deal with it,
he’s serious,
and he’s loving,
and his black eyes reflect,
against the black streeted city,
in a way that leaves no doubt,
upon my incensed mind,
we are in,
a Belizean town,
on the Guatemala border,
it’s late the moon is there,
as She always is such a trusted companion,
the balcony smells,
of humid resentment,
there is a sleepy nostalgia,
blowing through the air,
everything looks misty,
tomorrow I depart for Flores,
then to El Mirador,
the largest pyramid in the world,
waiting for me to explore,
I have a few days,
found some extra time,
between flying to NYC,
then flying to Milan,
to find my way to El Mirador,
it’s a six day hike from Flores,
this is something that’s calling me,
told you before I’m a traveler not a tourist,
I’m packing my bags,
getting ready for another trip,
my business is straight,
and my 5th book is almost finished,
which gives me a few days to breathe,
to hike into the jungles in respect of the pyramids,
and I was packing my bags and getting everything ready,
when I decided to take a break and step out onto the balcony,
where to my surprise I found a man,
sitting in the dark,
resting in the infinite,
space of time and thought,
and when I discovered him,
he began to speak,
he told me he’d come from Amritsar,
and that he was a Sikh,
Seek and Ye shall find,
so I go with God,
and get back to getting ready,
for my trek to El Mirador.
— ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆ —
The H Trilogy
Volume 1
7/7/16
∆
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
The wind howls my name,
whispering loudly for me to come home,
beckoning me back to the place where I’m from,
reminding me that nothing stays the same,
Moon in the sky my only friend,
on this Highway living life my way until the dead end,
I do not ignore death I’ve even tried suicide before,
but it’s not my time to go yet there’s more emotions to explore,
more words to write more messages to translate,
so sorry I’m not sorry Death will have to wait,
it’s late,
it’s early,
head in the clouds,
mouth taste all earthy,
the winds howl for me to come home,
whispering my name out loudly,
as I write with this anxious uneasy feeling,
from a mind that can’t settle and just keeps writing,
head so hot whole mind melting,
but emotions so cold that they’re biting,
bought the whole farm,
but at least it was turnkey,
to himself he’s a harm,
should be strapped to a gurney,
use me please abuse me please,
do anything except hurt me,
the winds howl proudly,
whispering loudly for me to come home,
beckoning me back to the place where I’m from,
reminding me that nothing stays the same…
∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 12:18 AM UTC
A list of lost poetry
Lies on my bed stand
and An archive of memories
Rests in your hand tonight
Another sob story
To another break up song
Another solitary cigarette
To another, “I knew better all along”
So, rather than the ladder
I’ll minimalize farther yet
Until I can’t believe in anything
and I manage to forget
She skipped the song
and Got right along to her favourite verse
She said she practiced, but forgot to rehearse
She says, “I hope I’ll be up to par, tonight”
She looked so fragile against my skin
My favourite probably was
The time when I
Believed the lie
What a pleasure it was to succumb
What a pleasure it was to feel alive
What a pleasure it is to say
I forgot to say good bye
She said it’s a control thing
Something that looks grim in the right kind of light
and I’m an eye sore to the onlooker
I guess I never worried much about that
Somewhere between wish I may
and Wish I might
Somewhere between
The fire
and The flame
Somewhere in between everything
I forgot to feel anything at all
I was never what you hoped I would be
but You have to admit, I did try
I tried everyday to give you something to believe
but I understand that some things
Just aren’t up to me
Some things you have no choice
but To sweep underneath
and The floor’s starting to lose shape
Under the weight of things
She knew the horizon, it wouldn’t change anything
We run from our geographical locations
Thinking that our region will change
Our core being
Created in God’s image, we are foolish creatures by nature
We ride on hope that’s never been validated by anything
We dig our fingers into the sand and revel in our pipe dreams
She’s praying against all odds that her rod
Isn’t the one that gets struck by lightening
“I’m not ready,” she said
“How can I let go,
When I don’t even know where I’ve been?”
At the end of the night
She lit a cigarette
She watched her smoke
Billow into the sky
She tucked her laces into her shoes
and Brushed off her jeans
She picked her keys up off the ground
Then she leaned in, and kissed me good night
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC
It was written before it was stone, my friend
She tells me a thousand reasons why her tides turn as they do
Each one of them knotting up
Before she ties the noose
She says it’s nothing personal
To disregard anything that was misconstrued
but Wasn’t it you, my darlin’?
I think it was you
I saw her again, late last night
She was wearing a ball gown and was
Sporting her converse tennis shoes
I caught a glimpse of her
As she kneeled down before him
That’s the hard thing about her
She’s a lie, but you can’t know that
Until you know her
and If you’ve known her, you’ll know
That there is no use
It’s a repetitive cycle that just
Begs to be true
When they put it on the stone
They put it on the cross
They made molds to make shapes
To accommodate
For what was lost
They found that what they’d hoped for
Was just a mask, a mirage
So they made up their own story to tell the masses
and On the next Sabbath, slaughtered the cause
and I suspect they took their time sewing shut the valves of your heart
and I don’t know what to do
You always ask me
Like I pay attention to the news
You’re surprised each time
I can’t tell you the truth
But you know what I am, don’t you honey
You’ve got my number, and you’ve got a plan
and I hope you don’t take me down with it
I hope you don’t take me down in it
The street lights, they don’t need a guide
To show them how, to show them out of
The dark night, the street lights
Don’t mind if you mind’s swollen
and Your heart is left open like a
Gaping wound, the street lights
They’ll keep you company tonight
In that moment, I became afraid
There was a disassociative effect
There you were, on the bed
and Then here I was, on the floor
Pulling at my skin
and I glanced at the window pane
Hoping the snow would lift my spirits
Instead I saw shards of glass
In my fists, going at it
I can’t even trust my mind anymore
It used to be my safe haven
Suddenly everything I came here for is
Out of sight, out of vision
and You’ve left your sword
and Abandoned your mission
You walked me home
You came and got me
I didn’t think you’d come, or anybody
I didn’t care,
I never expected anyone to come anyway
I mean that in the plainest way
We are conditioned in circumstance
Nothing else
Some of us fair better than others
and You’ll either survive, or you won’t
It’s the natural order, the law of evolution
We’ll **** out the defective genes,
and Enhance the most
We live in a society that insists
You stand on your own
but We live in a world
With a collective mindset
Who do we trust,
Our roots, or society as a whole?
and In the meantime we’ll try
We’ll do our best
Not to feel alone
I think you better get yourself
Some medical attention
You might have to call an ambulance kid
It could be serious
but I know how serious
Serious gets
and Right now this mess we got here,
This ain’t nothin’
I’m not gonna even
Worry myself about it
When I left I took
All my stuff with me
I took your heart, as it was bleeding
I got in my car, and
As I was leaving
I saw you standing in the window
You were crying, I shut my eyes
Slipped into reverse
Couldn’t help but glance in the mirror
and There you were, still standing
I saw the woman in the day room
Behind mountains of boxes
I knew you’d never leave, in that moment
That I’d return to a silhouette
Still crying, and
I’ve loved you in a way that a monster cannot feel
I don’t understand it, but I had to go
It was one of those moments when
Everything you’ve learned goes out the window
and That queer sensation, that lump in my throat
I didn’t know what it was until something willed me
To return home, you can’t identify
What you don’t know
In plain language
I don’t know how I’ll find a way
To forgive myself, but you
Keep trudging, you keep
Moving forward, because you
Don’t know what else to do
With yourself, because you can’t
Go home, this is your home,
but You are candescent
and Until the light returns to her heart
You will stand in the backdrop of it
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
You get what you payed for
and You take what’s yours
You don’t bother asking anyone
Who they are anymore
You just hum your song along
Until you get to the gate
Then you show the attendant
Your intention to go only one way
She says,
“It’s a ride you can’t get off,
and It curves around the bend
Where she takes you,
She’ll decide,
Right there and right then”
So what you mean to say
In so many words
Is that I’m powerless?
Nonetheless,
You get what you payed for
and You know you can’t complain
This box here contains
Only the sentiments you can’t
Find a way to blame
So you pull ‘em out
and Look them over
Until the hurts gone away
Even though it seems impossible
Today
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
And every day I look for the magic,
and every day he'd look for good.
Same, I said through a whirlpool of tongue
"Same" and it circled and crashed and pushed out the lie.
One will find sinners
the other find fools.
and either way both of us
find why we came.
Kiss me then, hot
in the corner with your hands
above my shoulder on the wall.
Kiss me and keep me from looking
keep me from finding sad and hopeless.
I said, bind me then.
So that I may not reach out
and I'll find just the good.
And he came at me with magic tricks
and belly dances.
He came with divinity and bound my feet tiny.
Take smaller steps to reach heaven now,
And I fell to my knees kissing a dirt road
lined with stained glass fragments.
I crawled until the blood from my legs
matched nothing at all on earth
for I have taken all the
red from the sea, taken all the
red from the burn.
Taken all the red from child's crayon.
Taken all the red from the sun.
And he takes me and makes magic to me under this nothingness sky
and we find good,
in the chaos we find good.
sahn 3/12/2015
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
I will love you with a fierceness,
coal burning stove hotness.
I will fire with the pistons
of the seven deadly sins.
I will love with great sorrow
for all the widowed and the ghosts
of what is yet and
what has wandered
woeful, wistful warm and wry.
I will love you with a wetness
thick like oceans foam
and I will hide it-
All my anger
at the bottom of a wave.
So you can dance on the shore of it,
so you can wade in the salt of it
so you can watch it recede-
So you will know it must leave you.
I will love you like a clover.
In a thousand clovers hovered
in a field of the wheat and grasses,
long and itching.
tall and reaching
trap your ankles as you walk.
And in that glory green
I will be in the shadow patient
with your wishes, clover me.
I will love you like dark loves you.
With no motive, with no hue.
with your fears and self-flagellations.
with your faults and accusations-
I will love you as dark finds you,
in the shadows, in the grief.
I will love you.
And when I love you
you will know no other self.
When I am stone,
when I am marble
I will love you ever so.
When I am stone
and I don't grieve so-
I will love you evermore.
Sahn
5/7/15
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
i watch his magic trick
in the morning by the sink
with the crunch of the blade
he goes from monster to man...
with the sleek silver rake
he goes from mine only
to the all the worlds.
and i am jealous of the world
my eyes watch him
as he clears the charming stubble
and tames the wild curls.
and i peek at his belly,
soft and pale
with sprouts of hair
like a man jungle.
and i watch him
with the cottoniest of cottons
ironed and pressed
shirt like a gift wrapped tight-
edges and clean lines.
i close my eyes and inhale
because next i will smell his smell.
and keep them closed
for him to lean over
inhale
and kiss me goodbye.
i don't want to hear the door close
but it does.
and i watch the hands as they
tick
tock
and i watch that **** door that let
him go
become the door that brings him back home.
Sahn
4/24/15
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
You want to kiss her.
Lip color makes a sunrise blush-
You have to know
If she'll be soft inside.
You want to taste her,
To figure out,
if she'll dart or will she wallow.
You want to kiss her
but you can't say why.
You want to touch her.
Watch her skin across the room.
You know the hollows-
want to trace them with your thumb.
You'd be so gentle, you'd move yourself
with your deft hand,
you want to touch her-
but you can't see why.
You want to smell her.
Scrub that cheap scent from off her clothes.
Get close and know her
with every sensory she brings.
You want to smell her-
like on the pillow when she leaves.
You need to smell her
but you won't know why.
She makes you achy.
You know the tiny things about her.
You gather pieces,
watching out from under lashes.
You'd wait for timing.
You'd wait for fate to give you courage.
She makes you achy
And you don't fathom why.
She makes you need her and
you can not find
why.
Sahn
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
It all spins
gravitational pull
and I-
astronaut distance
orbit it sadly.
My only regret-
out in the black nothing
is not feeling my back
against brick
one more time.
Push me against
the cold and cutting
and kiss me with your
hands by my head.
Ever so cleverly
holding the wall-
holding the world.
Holding out on me.
As I tumble,
astronaut girl
and look at the blue beneath my toes
my only regret is
not learning how fly that kite.
Learning how to ride currents
with colorful
useless
beautiful
toys.
So very stuck, was I,
on all of the moons
That I never took
to dragons with tails
or red and black scales
and days taken hostage
and grass that can lasso
and pull me in earthbound.
Now I am anchored to nothing and watch
as the blessed and foolish dance at weddings
and funerals
and I watch from above.
Astronaut, I am
my only regret is that
all of this time
I've spent farming the stars
I never did learn
to correctly love you.
Sahn 4.13.15
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
You will learn my rhythm
and lean in when I talk-
The smell of me like petrichor perfume
will linger on your shirt.
Feel of my lips like
satin ties
of the ballerinas shoes
will wind
around your mind
and tie across the gooseflesh
on your arms.
You will know I have come
before my hand
lifts to knock,
and your heart will quicken-
echo percussion against the chambers.
You will remember
the last wet place
we walked with one umbrella.
And when it rains
you will fill buckets with longing
to fit our slick bodies
underneath its black shelter
again.
You will knot your tie
and straighten your collar
and your body will stiffen
because it remembers.
You will have a track mark
like the silver needle bullet
chasing through your veins-
that recalls us.
Like tongue recalls salt,
like wound
recalls harm-
like child recalls
before being born-
like the prayer remembers
before being sung.
like the rock will recall that the ocean was there
and the cell will recall being painlessly split
and you will remember
with such vivid lust
and you will love in a timeless loop.
And I will love you over and under.
We will love till we're small again,
Love as time resets again
And then do it all once more,
Again.
Sahn 4.10.15
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
What day was it, exactly
when you asked?
I'd never thought
not that far out:
But.
I want to sit by the mountainside.
Hear the brook every morning-
gather up river stones
build up a path.
Drive an old chevy truck.
Red.
With radio made for blasting.
I want a moonroof and plenty
of stars in the sky.
I want to see faraway places.
Hear funny voices say funnier words.
I want to visit-then
I want to come home.
To you.
I want to cook like they do in NY
And garden
and pick pretty flowers.
To grow older
and watch
as my babies grow old.
I want to visit pyramids.
Buy trinkets at Parisian stores.
I want to see Venice-
make my way
thru watery streets.
But then
I want to come home.
To you.
To that mountain.
by that creekside.
Feed the squirrels and watch red robins.
Write under a tree.
I might want to go west-
Drive down highways fast
stay up in Vegas,
Late.
Wear sparkly dresses.
Drink pricey champagne
close to the bay. Any bay
will do.
I want to find light in the India bustle
and color in Ireland's green
and then,
I want to come home.
I want four corners and
I'd love seven wonders,
But still-
I'd want to come home.
To you.
Sahn
4/11/15
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC