Strife

When pauses get a lifeand the going gets hard,does the tone get bold,or do we spare our breath?When lines carve into fleshand guises etch wounds,does the echo get its say,or does the hush stifle all?When events decide to existand reality transpires as it does,does courage stay dutch,or do we bargain for a nerve?When things decide...

In Wait (Inspired by Gaza)

As the air whooshes and the breath comes to a still with my entire being in presence, in wait, in watch a decade, a while, an eternity as the ink runs dry and the sparks flicker out A scream rises past gnawing through the throat A bare wisp escapes far from the embers A shadow...

Scribbles

Since when did we start teaching our souls to seek some and distant a few? Since when did we learn to sabotage the existence of our own finite lives? Since when did words give way to smiles to mask pauses? Since when did we learn to endure and brace and never break the still?

Pieces and Fragments.

Deep breath in. Okay, here we go.. Ever since 8th grade, this time of the year has always been about picking up pieces and starting anew. One nice thing about this time is that I was born this month and yes, with mirth and laughter, let the wrinkles come. This annual event also brings back...

Balm

To whisper into the void And ask for the breeze to carry it into the clouds, To calm the racing thoughts And trust the way the river flows, To write secrets against the skin And confirm the ink fades its etches, To make a pact with every beat of the heart And break word with...

Musing

Why do our breaths get so frail that when we meet death, we leave and do it with such courage that only ashes remain in our wake? And then with memories and souls that survive, we decide to eke out a newer course until later, waiting until breath becomes frail again and the heart gets...

A Question of possibility.

Can we retreat into the shadows and hear the veins course life? Can we dare to forget and then call memories by their name? And then once breaths have had their fill, can existence still have a soul?

Ricochet

When bullets ricochet, Who do they hit? Does air take the brunt? Or does soil take its stead? Does blood seep in? Or do gasps cloak pain? Does pain exist at all? Or do we float in nothingness? Do the dead deserve mercy? Or is it the living? Or those that exist, the undead who...

White Facades

A landscape of white and toppling greys, A fall nearby, And a mournful sigh. A broken canvas etched in red, Erasing air and persistent breaths. Tiny beings, Hearts and orbs, A shard of ice And frosted grass. Pictures surround, Nature in mind Reality just another haze. Fickle stares, Of helpless souls Of lives gone, midst...

Canvas

Cubes, triangles and asterisks Amidst black watered chandeliers. Roses, dandelion and tulips With blood frosted roulette. Graffiti, chaos and sense In dance with the unknown. Brushes, juries and a paring, And duels met by the stroke. A pause, a query and the stars And meteors hit by the sun. Canvases all for a scene. Daring...