Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

how I miss you,
the taste of your lips –
my, my only love, for you are, this

sometimes I wake
trembled in the corner
I made myself
where none
had yet to exist

I have painted my own portrait
determined, my own fate
my inner demons
the mask, now is my face

and I am still here

looking out at the world
sometimes I dance along
most times I walk alone
and so-

I can not escape, this box
not by will or by smarts
just the end, determined by none
if only
I could really know, someone-
inside through and inside out
like I do, this house

gathering storm clouds come
the wood floor planks speak with age

my hands shake, with anticipation
or perhaps, just age again
so here I am

locked in this made hollowed cage,
sometimes my mind escapes
a hand turns the knob of the door
up into the sky, from the earth
into the stars, then I go
eternal, as light from fusion flows forth;
may I burn, like our sun
and provide that warm feeling, once more
on a child’s cheek
or provide the power to raise
the truly weak-
or fall,
to split a glimmer, of a tear
and may I find glory in the unfold
transform into all the colors as rhymes are told-
for a moment

but so returns the astral dreamer
back locked into,

into my cold dark corner;
hope is stoked by both sides in this
dreams may be the epitome- of murder

notes… I wrote this from the cuff, all tonight, raw, maybe could be more polished… I went over it maybe three times… but it makes sense to me, if it does for you, please comment, I am curious if my thoughts make sense to anyone, I post to make my art public, and my inner life public, because we are all alive right now, we owe it to each other as artists… maybe that sounds like bullshit or lofty, sure, but we are alive right now, together, for we truly are… and one day, one day too soon, we will all go away, my friends, we will all go away… why do we not live every minute of every day as such… we are caught up in the game… because, we are human… and I wonder how to express that and share that… with you…

life moments… waking…

life moments… waking…

sunset love lake resort
Photo by Download a pic Donate a buck! ^ on Pexels.com

Sometimes feelings sweep over me, I can not explain, it is like revelation burst, just something changes, a realization, this is not always a pleasant experience, today, I stepped out into the sun soaked summer day, for the utterly mundane task of putting out the garbage, the sun felt great on my back, my bare feet warmed on the driveway, I avoided stepping on sharp pebbles, all seemed OK, but I then just felt a wave, who the hell am I? how the hell did I get here right now? surely this is not the be-end of my dreams of years ago, am I even recognizable from that? externally? in my mind I am the same person all this time, I think, but how did I get here, I feel lost, I feel out of place, I feel I have no place, logically I know I am living a life far greater than many in this world, I know this intellectually but can not get it to sing in my bones, like I think it should, how did I get here? I feel like foreigner in my own land, walking the garbage bin out to the curb I feel out of place in a place I have known so well and so long, as if I was sitting on a train, speeding past my life, a decade spent, gone, a decade gone, spent, just riding along watching the landscapes blur by, nothing of consequence happens, just time passes, and here I am, off the train, at this stop, barely recognizing the universal familiar, I feel lost, adrift, knowing who I am but not how I fit, how did I get here?

change is a fickle thing, I have made progress this year from here to there, I’m just not back yet, I can not say I have lived in the lands of despair but I surely indulged in the rituals of same, denial of the self, finding it easier to retreat into a shell, to autopilot, to become a passenger to my own life, in all I must remember that the way up and out is not a straight line, it never will, but sometimes I am reminded how far I have not gone, the failures, the lure and comfort of normalcy, of conformity, of base expectation when I am capable of much more, but only the internal knows the true potential, it is draining, at times the energy is not there, I must retain to summon the cost, for it is worth every moment here on this earth, I struggle to find the strength, on this night, at least, I must find the missing ingredient.

(music, sort of gothic depressing, with violins… just my mood today)

I wrote this out on the porch tonight, not as cheery as some of the other posts, but it was just not in me tonight, I will not pretend or cover things up, this blog is who I am, mostly bright and optimistic but my mind does wander and wonder as there are horrors in this world, and the ultimate horror of our demise, my mind gnaws on things, it is my design, so I am consumed with trying to figure things out, no matter how futile… at times it will dull my blade, maybe even break it… but I will not quit until it quite literally kills me…

Thanks to any and all of you “ones” that read this, comment, think about it etc.  I consider you all Ones… individuals, so cheers to you, and thanks again…

ebb and flow

ebb and flow

low angle photography of trees
Photo by Free Nature Stock on Pexels.com

low” 10.31.2018

the world is sinking, drowning into gray

even in the sunlight dwells, no denial

shadows ripple, within waves of dark energy

shallow, in the dearth of empathy

a look, a sinister flash, dark matter sky

a glint of the knowing

lifeless blood flowing from within a wound

thoughts rope bound in a fallow womb

for, what has cursed this land

so low

(if you are not familiar with my posts, I always post the original date I wrote something, kind of truth in print, or maybe I am just anal retentive… or both… but yeah, I wrote this back in October which surely seems like ages ago now, but sometimes I don’t post things as I write them, this would be one of those sometimes, I am generally optimistic but I believe there is a shadow for every sun, how can light exist without dark in simple)

sometimes, there is reflection…

sometimes, there is reflection…

blue black and white furred bird on brown dry soil
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

barren” 6.1.18

never healed.

rolling hills of molten glass

ashen sky labors in breath

light – fades into red

shrouds this living death


once these were fields

brim with hope

fallow burning

burning down

long ago

lash winds strips

with hollow sound

across the face of these ash laced mounds


there is no one to see

no other around

no mirror

just scarred barren ground

I lay down

I lay down,


within dreamless sleep

lies sleepless dreams

notes… sometimes life is not all puppies and unicorns, I am human after all, I try to always look on the bright side, but sometimes night happens. (and yes i wrote this in June, I don’t always post as I write, sometimes I wait for a moment that is right, for me)

music… “For My Fallen Angel” (just listen)

as always, thank you for your time in reading my little blog, even if I reach but one my job is done.

summer loses some bite.

summer loses some bite.

recommended listening : jinsang – confessions (it was what I was listening too, well, besides nature, some chill beats for a chill day…)

blur car city downtown
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“thoughts from my porch” – 8.24.2018

so I thought I might sit awhile in this night, I much usually prefer the setting sun (for obvious reasons), so another heat wave passed, and is truly like a wave, this swath of grappling, stifling heat creeps over the entire state, or coast, and bakes, for a little while of time all amplified by the mighty all-encompassing grip of our tiny lenses, but not tonight, the temperature has dropped to her knees, perhaps dipping twenty or more degrees, still – the chorus of insects is in midsummer’s form, loud, not raucous, all the clicks and songs of the chorus we know and can almost sing along (were we just crickets among the thickets), the mosquitoes are not quite biting as night’s before (was it something I ate, or are they just being polite?) cars are just two still beams gliding up the street, I can not tell who they are, just cars, vague vehicles of light, two beams and a set of reds on the back, a train calls in the distance, imagine that, such an ancient beast, how so far advanced we are although we are not, after all we still measure in horsepower, I observe some cars, with their manners, seem like they are looking for something, someone, certainly not me, no one has come looking in quite some time, what is there to see anyway? the same, just the same, maybe I need a break… no. maybe I need TO break – all this, all this familiarity I wear like a cloak, this safety, this hiding, all easier said, especially in my head – and with this pen, is it such the sweet addiction of fear that is holding the key from turning or just something simpler, the ravaging comfort of complacency? from the outside, this must seem like prime real estate, but on the inside, looking out, I can see the walls for what they aren’t, so, if I can see it, why not just change, rearrange, start over – ah, but that is just the thing, that requires a first step, in an unknown direction, and then another – and a destination, and of course here I am, sitting, thinking, instead, instead of…


Invading thoughts…

Invading thoughts…

war chess
Photo by Gladson Xavier on Pexels.com

home invasion” 8.18.2018

hostile dreams

haunt these

my lonely days

of this existence

among the people

who occupy the spaces

like so many chess pieces

I am long tired of the game

I can not seem to win

lose, or stalemate

or even more

move off this board,

endless gambits

my mind is on fire, no, it is at war


if I can not find rest

in my sleep

wherever will I find it?

when I’m dead?


hostile dreams,

as of late

they infiltrate

my perimeter

my daily thoughts

a train wreck

my horoscope


hostile dreams

they penetrate

my fortitude

my fortress

lays in ruins

not from attrition

but from the constant grind

of never ending erosion

exploiting the cracks

I have left –

the signatures of my neglect


hostile dreams

they have overrun the walls

hardly a pause

my resistance

is merely whisked away

my army


in their space

empty armor husks

strewn about like so much relics

less steel than one step from dust


hostile dreams

they permeate

saturating my pores

stretch the air

the stench

overwhelms my nose

I can not escape

sensory overload


I have lost

the will

the will to fight,


now I lay me down to sleep


by these hostile dreams.

musical choice ?

my dying bride – the cry of mankind

one of the worst band names in history… one of the best bands ever… many a night or a time they have been my muse, my drowning, my immersion, I like this song because it is like a hypnotic meditation (with the constant sound in the background from beginning to end lulling you into contemplation or maybe sorrow… or maybe both, the world is not always cotton candy and apple pie… I would love for it to be so, so sometimes even optimism needs to sleep, for a time)

fallen angels.

fallen angels.

statue angel cemetery
Photo by Ghost Presenter on Pexels.com

fallen” 6.14.18

so I know how they felt

the angels that fell

eternal cries

of pain

separated from your love



cast into a dessert fire

sweltering heat

never ending sun

my skin boils

cooked to the bone

but this –

surface agony

compared to the realization

is nothing

the separation

the fall

for all eternity

Notes… I’m not religious (and hold no ire for those who are, more on that some other time as I have a bunch to unload on that topic) but you would have to admit (if you love a good story) that the bible certainly has some great writing in parts (other parts of the bible are just instructional and clearly written by clergy with a mission imo… I’m talking the sodom and gomorrah type of stuff here people!).

Specifically in this case, I love the play of free will vs. obedience to god… sort of a conundrum (if you have free will… won’t god know your choices anyway etc?), but also the fall… knowing you made the wrong choice and now you are confined to hell (figuratively) due to your own actions.  Now I am not claiming to be lucifer (the rebel leader)… more or less a lesser angel without that much pride to take on the big honcho in the sky but caught up in the moment… these are all the ingredients baking the cake in my head on this one… not sure if I conveyed it all in the poem, hey, I’m just a guy with a blog, cut me some slack jack.

Tunes… time for some blues, I got those lost woman blues, the I ruined the greatest thing I will ever know blues, I didn’t lose her – I screwed it up, so all I have now is me and my guitar.  Gary Moore “There’s a Hole”



grayscale photography of man sitting beside wall

“I am, Ruins” 7.18.18

can you forgive me?
can I forgive myself?


the guilt
like a captor
a cage
becomes familiar
a house
with common walls
closing in
blinds the view
no windows
no doors
huddled in the corner
struggling against the bindings of my guilt
under the weight of stone
tattered clothing
barely covers
broken form
cold wood boards
floor creaking

the key-
to forgive
out of reach
beyond my sight
I can not see,
my mouth, my mouth pantomimes
Help… Help… Help…
(and softer…)
…help –
until a whisper
then just a murmur
quakes across trembled lip
a single tear forms
and draws
like a blade that strikes out against the world
(help)… (help)… help me, please… please…


No cute notes or music on this one.. I think I will let it stand for itself. -dmk