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Posts published in “Uncategorized”

Don’t forget me.

I have pushed writing away, and was afraid I had lost the skill. Then, I remembered all the terrible shit I wrote when I was younger and how those evolved into something better, more crystalline, more vibrant or soaked or bearing, and I believe I’m just getting back from a short vacation. Which, if you think about it, is only a couple years out of 35 so far (20 writing), so that’s not so bad.

Here’s some shit I tried, knowing I’d fail to jot down the feelings from watching The Bros and the dementia scene. It’s just sad that I think I can dip right into the stream of consciousness or the brief-but-deep pools.

This ever-churning, emblazoned and darkened dot, drenched in hues

I am wasting
Between these breaths
I am taking


I recently found that I was using the improper, “okay,” when the correct spelling is, “OK.”  I would go back and update my prior works to the correct spelling, but I would rather be reminded of my ignorance.

From this point forward, please know that I will correctly use, “OK.”  If you see something with, “okay,” you can correctly assume it’s an old work, or I was tired.

That said, I try to be grammatically correct and use correct spelling with most of what I do.  It’s hard in the land of poetry and creative writing, because there is so much pleasure to be had from confusing the audience or being ambiguous, and grammar, punctuation, and spelling tend to make being ambiguous a difficult task.  However, I certainly won’t use what is universally thought of as correct grammar, punctuation, or spelling if it clashes with my own beliefs. See, “till,” versus, “’til.”

Also, I do not like run-on sentences; I use coordinating conjunctions and punctuation, where appropriate.  I am a student of stream of consciousness.

Untitled 13

I can see in the dark. Not by locking my eyes on an object and hoping the exposure to darkness eventually hones a new skill. No, not that ludicrous way. I can see in the dark by focusing on everything at once and acknowledging that there are subtle shades to the darkness and, therefore, bits of light from which to make objects appear against a backdrop, or shadowed on a foredrop.

Perhaps life is that same way a bit misleading. We’re told to look directly at our goals to accomplish them. Stare at until you break out. Not that I don’t believe such a scheme isn’t entirely possible, I just have lived to find my own goals a bit shadowed before they’re clear. In fact, I set such general goals that my accomplishments feel hollow until I recall where I was before. Maybe that’s my clouded mind, or a lovely way to float through life.

I derive pleasure from sounds. Those sounds that string together to create a noise track to life are so exquisitely placed– to not appreciate their beauty and synchronicity is paramount to falling without holding out your hands. The sounds are there to reel you into reality as life walks on without you, waiting for ears to open your mind back up to its surroundings.

To have pets is to have companions and, subsequently, a reason to not become insane. Paths that stay in constant symmetry of days are often given synthetic or augmented experiences to replace those feelings gained by being interrupted by other paths. Pets = paths, just as we do to them.

When I can’t see myself writing, I just write. Only fools and cowards believe in writers’ block. Real writers know you can never stop divulging your life– not for anyone. We’re the opposite of voyeurs, but the stalkers of our own lives.

Stay foolish and imitation will always ruin your gift. Be unrelenting in your approach and you will eventually build your own bypasses around/through/over others.

about writing

I take very seriously the denotation of my writings as scribbles. Yes, technically they are poems, but I practice them as though they are whims (good app, btw) and not to be taken seriously– except in their definition and execution.

I also enjoy, thoroughly and with opened eyes, the passing of these scribbles from one resource to another. Specifically, I take pleasure in taking them from Dropbox+PlainText and tweaking them a bit for WordPress, while trying to recall the originating train of thought. I’ve stated many times that I do not edit, and I deviate from that when publishing, but honor the statement once they are published. Semantics.


I write poetry because I like psychoanalysis more than strict observation and research.

Status Update

So, the last post I’ve made is from August. And the WordPress mobile app on this phone has not been used since May 17th. So, I think I will update a bit. And, there you have it: a status update.

Update 1: Done posting a few shorties. The problem with posting using the day I wrote something is that it is confusing to those expecting new content to appear first. My interpretation of, “new content,” is that there is now something there which wasn’t before. Sorry if it’s harder to follow.


Now is not the time to forget what you have come out of. You are more than now. Now is just a thin film over your eyes, with vast cities, rivers, mountains, and land beyond. Good is where you are and where you have been; all to come is difficult and trying until that, too, becomes good.

I Do Not Write

I do not write for you, invisible existence. I write for He who knows my name and loves me still. I write to jot and scribble observations of a worldly, spiritual, existentialist nature. I say nature in conjunction, though mean to stand it fully by itself. The logical, visual, visceral, foreign methods of expression sit, nestled in a batch of words that seem more shallow than a drip’s pool; and, I pour into them with every gland and nerve of this body I was given. I dry myself with slow breathing, only to soak again and slosh about when I wake. I feel like a weathered, angry man when my wife wakes me for what I must do before going off to indentured servitude of a much less harsh variety than was prior to our country’s freedom. I do not ramble; I stroll amongst thoughts as would a day-tripper to the forest: with a sense that there must be a time to leave, but having very little care to get there. And, too, I sometimes stop short, before any sort of insight makes its way through the text I’ve laid to dry, but forgot I did not wash them first.

I forget myself as easily as my PIN for everything other than my debit card. You can see I am but a forgetful bit of man, sunken and raised at the same time, with a hairline border to keep me defined.

Every piece of writing seems so much longer and lasting when written than when read. That’s why I don’t go back to read: disappointment in myself for what my self has written and recorded. Funny, I envisioned my life and saw, long ago, a continued emphasis on what it is I loved: dictation and repetition.


always trust in what you’ve decided.
that includes deciding to discard what was previously decided.

LOVE your God

You cannot have only faith in the Lord. You cannot have hope in our Lord. You should LOVE our Lord, wholly and completely. With your LOVE in your Lord, you will trust. With your LOVE in your Lord, you will know. And trusting, and knowing, through LOVE will release you from the bonds of anxiety; your LOVE for God breaks your chains of human condition, of, “I need,” and, “what will happen…”. Forget that you need. Forget that you are curious of your own demise. LOVE your God. LOVE supplants necessity. LOVE works within your spirit, shaking off your words and baking you in God’s. Know how you can tell what your partner, your parents, your friends, your siblings, your cousins are thinking when nothing has been said? God knows you without your needing to say a word. God LOVES you, and with that LOVE, your God gives you everything before you know you have a need for it. Do the same. LOVE God to where you feel God’s presence. LOVE God to where God’s own LOVE comes through. This isn’t a one-way LOVE, having one without. This is God’s LOVE.

musings & scribbles