Corporate Stagnation


But first a little side note, if anyone could spare a little extra money to help a wonderful kid, it would be greatly appreciated. Below is an excerpt from his mom from their page. It’s not every day that we can actually do** something to make a difference but in this case, every little bit helps. Cancer is a fucking bastard.


“My dear, sweet son Otto has been diagnosed with Stage IV Neuroblastoma. He just turned five last month, and became ill suddenly just a few weeks ago. The last month has been a whirlwind of testing, doctor’s appointments, and specialists. We were admitted to the hospital when his symptoms and his pain became too severe, and finally received our devastating diagnosis after several days.
As his mother, I cannot bear to leave him right now. My only baby is afraid, angry, and in so much pain. I don’t know any mom who would feel differently.
Unfortunately, taking care of my boy means that I can’t work. While FMLA will protect my job so that I can return there when this is all over, I am the breadwinner for our little family. We just bought our first home in October and would despair to lose it and have nowhere to bring Otto home to when the time comes. My paid time off allotment will already run out as of this Friday, barely a week after we brought him in.
We need your help to cover his medical expenses as well as funds to keep us going so that we can continue to support him here in the hospital. We have already received such an outpouring of love and support, but we still have such a very long way to go. I know our goal seems like such a large number, but every small amount will help us.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”


Corporate Stagnation

The words disappear beneath the shadow of hands

Ink-stained knuckles curve into fists of anxious frustration

I hide this self only as much as I can pretend

With the challenge of mind led by the weight of suppression


The truth is acknowledged by those in its possession

Absent in substance, despite how it’s being written

We accept in ignorance what we abandon in submission

Perverting blind desolation while claiming “It is I who apprehends!”


Well, who I am to desecrate this movement?

As I sit here losing hope from the promise of creation

Devising rhyming riddles of expectations to offend

Only to deaden the void from the torment of corporate stagnation


The page glares in indignant accusation

With a delighted radiancy desirous to transcend

I always succumb to suffer its carnal predation

As it is, who cares? we all die in the end


I am grateful for friends and family <3

Monthly Archives: February 2014



Posted on February 28, 2014 by MuseWriter

Eerily quiet

In a way that escapes the modern ear,


A blank canvas filled in with white

A bold emptiness inviting anyone

to create a mark

Or to fill a hole

Whether the colors resemble anything

remotely perceptible

Some, hear the saxophone lulling into the night

With a heavy heart of understanding

outlined in the pinkish hue of love

The echoes vibrating off of the porcelain keys

A duet of hauntingly beautiful music

to complement the mood

Others, afraid of the uncertain

See darkness in nothing at all

No direction nor meaning

No sound, no saturation, no feelings

A mysterious sullen shade of

shadows and silhouettes

Misunderstood, perhaps

Wintertime is merely the feminine

shifting of emotions

Of acknowledging the

empathy for the differences that unify

everyone of us

A season of physical touch and self-awareness;

A memory of warmth and of the

glowing sun.


Closed Eyes

Posted on February 28, 2014 by MuseWriter


The golden webs glow in the darkness

Of shut eyes focusing on seeing

Knuckles grind into skin and the lights get brighter

Breathing steadies

Lines and shapes moving, pulsating

Intertwining into an array of mystery

What is there to see behind closed eyes?


Nooks and Crannies

Posted on February 24, 2014 by MuseWriter

Where are you?
I see the shadows
feel the movements
But only from the corners
of my eyes
As if it’s some kind of joke
to confuse the blind-ed
Where were you?
When the clouds drew near
blocked out the sun
when I forgot to run
Feet locked into the ground
as if they had sprouted roots
all by themselves
Letting the dirt swallow my
body whole
Even the dark
Nooks and Crannies
that I had forgotten about;
How do we begin to
lose ourselves
in the very things that
Once helped


Kept Outside

Posted on February 22, 2014 by MuseWriter

Sucking in breath
Calculating movement of throat
And counting the appropriate
Pauses to create;
To distract attention from face
Highlighting the notice of a distant object or attraction
Offering something, anything
Reasonable as to explain why
Focus must always be shifted
And kept outside
To be comfortable


Posted on February 4, 2014 by MuseWriter

The simple choice to make, think fast it’s easy

Do you go with gut instinct or only question the answer?

To evaluate the lenses available for view

and for purchase

One by one each pair is laid out in a row

Stagnant in waiting for a view left in

wanting; unseen

The different frames decorated for


An attachment of recognition on first


Selecting the best mirrored of self

instead of the glasses with the correct

focus to see

Too much visual screening can leave

one often staring, lonely

Observances jaded by the different

shades and shadows covering face

A mask to wear while

claiming ignorance and


Monthly Archives: February 2013


The Norm

Posted on February 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

I shrugged in sarcastic narcissism,
Of course everyone got the joke.
As a creature molded to analyze
I constantly try to self-replicate myself into the norm;
It’s safe, a nice comforting cocoon, the norm.
An obvious cliche stepford kitchen recipe
But the norm is always actualized from diversity
The new beginnings that created multiple personalities
Stages of metamorphosis to write down in history.
I am a masked face to pretend to relate.


To Be Happy

Posted on February 24, 2013 by MuseWriter

It’s hard to begin to express the sheer frustration and depression I fall into when you leave. Although your body lingers, your mind has lost it’s way. The pathway to self-destruction on speed. A numbing embrace and a glimpse of a light, so you use. To keep a handy vial on hand, mimics the guidance of friends, pushing you away from everyone. And you do. Your self-confidence issues are portrayed, by the mean words you say, when you’re not you. How important do I weigh in the narcissistic world playing in everyone’s heads? What would you say if you were given the chance to conquer it all or, to be happy?



Posted on February 22, 2013 by MuseWriter

As a cockroach, the ugliest parasite of them all

I am free, but pointless

Black antennas and beady eyes, they consume

The world is on fire but the bug always prevails

A grim reaper of destruction and chaos,

What have I become?

A monster of death?

A watcher, a listener, a schizophrenic creeper?

To be an addict’s last witness and give out his dying wish

We all collectedly suffer;

To always be alone and afraid…


My Miniature Vault

Posted on February 13, 2013 by MuseWriter

My miniature vault, a glass storage jar, sits on the table

In its own little spot, next to the monte carlo cigar box

As an object of character, it represents my freedom, my rebellion, my sweet descent

My little piece of sanity that keeps me contained

A late bloomer to the bud of the most contentious flower

I hear every poet’s favorite color is green

I hope so…

Posted on February 12, 2013 by MuseWriter

The walls are pounding,
Quick, loud beats that mimic my heart.
The room is always illuminated by the tv,
A reality of fiction and demons of temptation.
Where is our salvation?
Where is the harmony of perfection and ecstatic bliss?
They say that everything happens for a reason,
But I won’t stay here pretending that I don’t notice.
Am I a threat, a calculable mission,
A potential cause for confusion of emotion?
Oh God, I hope so.


Posted on February 11, 2013 by MuseWriter

I looked down, red caught in my peripheral vision

A few seconds passed of shocked contemplation

Mixed within the natural expression, was blood


A Dreamer (part 2)

Posted on February 9, 2013 by MuseWriter

A dreamer is

the medium to life that puzzles together

the miracles of the Universe.

He isn’t godly or holy;

He isn’t a wizarding character of fantasy.

A dreamer is a creator of hope;

and with hope,

life begins…


February 9, 2013

Posted on February 9, 2013 by MuseWriter

Softly, somewhere, a piano sings

A whispering tune that I have never heard

It’s my hope, the sound of the keys is encouraging

My own fairy tale, just without the violation of words

And I find myself remembering, or at least believing, that

I could remember the place of collective self and happiness

It’s without Greed, the killer, the monster that will devour the world;

A plague that ravages you from the inside.

Legs shaking under the steering wheel, I hide it

Blue lights flashing in the rear-view mirror, an intrusion of the night, they hurt my eyes

A confusing warning, a paranoia sponging up the awkwardness

In that moment, I flash-forwarded to a million scenarios of what was in my pocket

The system is corrupt and weak

But we still believe it

We are abstract clouds that wander through the fields, their sheep

Somehow lost in this crossfire of a country’s desire to everything


Hoarder of Memories

Posted on February 7, 2013 by MuseWriter

There once lived a man who claimed he could fly.
He said he was a true pilot of practiced skill,
Also known as the difficult type, but he was loved by us all;
and their colorful words and phrases depicted him well.
This man loved, as so many romantic men do,
Like his whole body was roasting on fire.
The acrid smoke clouding his judgement;
The heavy heat making living unbearable.
A gift was offered, it was long ago;
A gift that everyone has forgotten,
But the man who flies can see the world,
He’s become a hoarder of memories that don’t belong to him.
He suffers now, afraid of what he might remember;
Because she doesn’t.
How many lives are allowed in one sense of time?
If there is a favorable notion why you hold them so close,
Then, it’s okay to divulge the available details.



Posted on February 4, 2013 by MuseWriter

Butterflies, how do they fly?

Little velvet wings that shine like stained glass in the sun.

Such a delicate life;

An explorer of illusion made for beauty and wonder.


The Monarch of the tree paints it a fiery orange;

Orange has always been my favorite color.

The battle for the tree is illuminating;

It’s so remarkable, this insignificant magnificence of a whisper


The Tower


Sitting in her bed with feet drawn up

It’s quiet save for the churning about down below

Her belly’s swollen, bottom skin touching upper thighs

The window is slightly open and yielding

Anthropomorphic moaning of ghostly cries

Transfixed in her study of the spire’s views

She’s mesmerized by the ebb and flow

The great beast itself waving up at the tower’s top to say hello

A braggart creature assuming power with every powerful surge

The force keeping hope balanced with its fierceness

Whispered prayers encircle the space

Her unheard pleas of hope for attention

Fireplace ablaze, the red coals burning through the night

Flickering as the wooden door creaks open

Louder still, as the hinges give way to the excitement

Open-eyes reveal a storm-sodden man hovering in the doorframe

Flaming tendrils reach out to illuminate the faces

Leaving shadows dancing as scattered splotchy shapes

The fiery glow throwing color as if from an artist’s brush

Heavy acrylic dripping to the floor in contentment

He finally returned home


I am grateful for music <3


Beginning – End


They said
“Just live in the moment”
So we
closed our eyes to the past
Scarf tied
to shield view of the future
Mouth shut
better to forget what’s unsaid
One thought
to suppress the rest
Time governed
by desired thoughts and feelings
What’s life
without the beginning and end?

I am grateful for Friday nights <3

Monthly Archives: January



White Curtains, White Walls

Posted on January 24, 2015 by MuseWriter

The bird sits on her perch
Inside the iron cage
In the front of the house,
with its white curtains and white walls:
The bird’s home two feet from the window

The bird sits on her perch
Decorated in gold
Her feathers soft to touch,
contrasting against the white curtains and white walls:
The bird’s beauty purchased for all of her colors

The bird sits on her perch
Forever always watching
Ignoring the boundaries of view,
cage bars framing the white curtains and white walls:
The bird’s eyes gazing past the glass in desire

The bird sits on her perch
Listening to silence
As a lonely decoration,
an isolation within the white curtains and white walls:
A solitude to drown out any chirping or singing

The bird sits on her perch
Heart rapidly pounding
Chest feathers ruffle with motion,
a reminder of life in the room with white curtains and white walls:
It’s always the same day after day.



Past, Present, and Future

Posted on January 30, 2014 by MuseWriter

As I sit here on this stool, with the rubber cushion;
minus the splits of foam that I’ve sat in before
I resume a type of thinking more characterized
as self-reflection,
apparently focusing on the majority leaves one ignoring even
the most apparent responses of bodily intentions, my digression…
Analyzing the differences seen from the past, present, and future
Is there any mirror that defines life in a way
that isn’t scary to look at;
layering the foundations on the white scars that starting healing after
the last suture was placed
It’s interesting that memories take a form of their own
Categorizing emotions like I wasn’t living at all
But the body copies moments and marks up skin
At least for myself, if these things that I felt, either figuritively or literally, were real
but i wonder, why can’t i remember?
Is there a certain price to pay for filling up mind, brain
with more thoughts than many are capable of believing at all
Not that I mind being the mirrored masked portrait of someone
long forgotten,
but if chance had humor could it mean that there were a few less neurons firing then previously thought?
Should I mind if I’m never told the same story twice
given only just the suggestion, the motivational penetration
of anyone else’s digressions that make it from one brain to the next?

Shining In My Eyes

Posted on January 10, 2014 by MuseWriter

Floating away from the frigid abyss

Slowly opening senses, as if an infant learning

the first moments of awakening

The void retreating;

almost as quickly as consciousness shifts

The current, lifting thought

Dramatically acknowledging every random

tendril of hair and/or cloth

An accidental journey predetermined by

the Keeper of the light, and

Monitored by those incandescent flashes of bubbles

of air building the momentum

for the fire to grow

The internal flame igniting the oxygen into

filtering the hibernating air sustaining

my lungs, enough to encourage

the scattered thumping beats of my heart

Gathering faster in anticipation

and in accomplishment

Fingers stretched as arms fan in and out;

Palms drawn up together towards the surface, penetrating

the water; shooting through like an arrow

Palms pushed down to escape the darkness

Black sea turns to green, then to blue

Curious creatures coming closer to see

Avoiding the spotlight pointing its rays towards my face

The sun shining in my eyes, blindingly

calling out my name…

“Speak In Rounds” Grizzly Bear:

“White Rabbit” Jefferson Airplane:

“State of the Art (A.E.I.O.U)” Jim James:

Shortest Outcomes Written

Posted on January 9, 2014 by MuseWriter

Penetrating weapons of investigation; a kind of manipulative exploration

where random thought passes to prove someone’s punch line

The shifting subtle glances stirring up unexpected responses of curiosity;

what does that say about who we understand to be?

The wayward thoughts causing disruptive questions; thinking

Practicing those moments of clarity without surrendering to

defeat in minute flashes of distractions

Announcing victory in even the

shortest outcomes written.


I claim to be perfect…

Posted on January 31, 2013 by MuseWriter

I claim to be perfect, well at least inside of my head

But I fear my mind is a scary place, always questioning

It’s a visionary’s dream, or a lover’s death

It’s exhausting to be constantly trying to maintain a feeling of knowing

What is truth? I still don’t know

I always give in to the gravity of my thoughts

They travel down to deep, dark graves

Underground condominiums built up of my past

There’s this constant buzzing, a nagging in my ears

I am never allowed any moments of silence

This state of annoyance building up my trepidation

Unnerving the glow of energy I’m building within



Posted on January 30, 2013 by MuseWriter


The echoing descant translates the harmony into my head

Making this treasured bundle of maternal comfort feel suddenly foreign

I’m always shocked as the explosion of emotion sets in

It’s as if my self is attached to the breath of the world through music

Every chord amplifies the ringing pitch of each string

The reverberating hum gets louder as the fingers connect with a whispering touch

Euphoria sets in as I can feel it flowing through me

Imprinting, now paving the neuro path to concrete memories

Eloquently playing, as might a painter if,

IF he could hear the shapes and the colors he entertains

Strokes of rainbow symphonies that fan out and fade

An orchestral picture perfect love song exhibit

A Confession

Posted on January 29, 2013 by MuseWriter

Two screws attach the plate to the wall

The industrial piece of plastic that holds in the switch

A border between the hollow boards of wires

An icon by the door of every modern regulator of the night


What does it cost to facilitate the irrationality?

Is it damaging to not think of it at all?

It’s only a single moment but it affects the very core of me

It’s such a dangerous game to play when there are no rules anymore


An awareness of expectancy guides my train of thought

An Amtrak full of people feeling lost and abandoned

But even they enjoy the sickly shade of streetlamp yellow

This is a confession of what makes me afraid

A Translucent Pandora

Posted on January 7, 2013 by MuseWriter


The palm leaves falter as you draw back the curtain

Jagged dark edges weave into the light on the wall

I lay here, comfortable, learning

You flip the switch then darkness falls

The room glows, it’s such a golden amber

The light explodes off of the panes

Four sides of a translucent pandora

An illuminated glass statue of dreams

The waves of color shine and sparkle

Narrating memories once shared

Cloudy movements dance in the circle

The cylindrical rhythm vibrates throughout the depth of shadows

Little Bright Stars

Posted on January 5, 2013 by MuseWriter

Little Bright Stars

Could I focus long enough to see you
Psychedelic imagining on mushrooms
Colorful sounds that I could not previously hear
I thought this world had changed but it wasn’t mine
We’ve submitted to the everyday musings of our new ordinary lives

But I’m confused, heartbroken and tired
I feel lost, I’m floating
I keep trying to stand but the weight pushes me down
How can I survive when I keep faltering?
How can I win if I want to lose?

I know that I am not alone
But reality is cruel and demanding
My loves are imprisoned within the realms of society
Shackled with platinum chains and diamond locks
Distractions to keep the blood flowing

We are young, brought here to please
We are limitless, but are now bound by mortality
We have wings, but we’ve forgotten how to fly
We are angelic, little bright stars that travel the world at night