Monthly Archives: January 2013



It’s the pen, it’s the paper
This psychotic manipulation that I can’t handle
So many questions revolving around what has been done
Why can’t we just focus on now?

I live each distraction as a piece of the puzzle
The memories intertwining together
I lack focus, I guess I’ve said that
These lines are just so intimidating

I’m like the bored viewer of a long movie
I can’t interact, I can’t leave
This is the nightmare that keeps me asleep
My conscience is filled and overflowing

Fast moving screenshots and undisclosed dialogue
The hazy fog destroying my reality
Addictions swirl through the firings in my head
It’s just too much for me to admit

I am grateful for Penelope. ❤







In a state of disbelief do I do nothing at all

Let’s take a trip on Jefferson’s Airplane to recall

Too many memories that we now find similar to our own

And who could blame us for bringing down the wall?

How many battles can we lose before we have another Revolution?

We may be a younger generation but we can still fight for the cause


If you don’t believe me, let Crosby enlighten you of Woodstock

Where peace and love were enough to testify of what’s right and what’s wrong

If we choose to let them ignore us, how can we grow?

I am not a single person but a figure of us all

Go ask Grace, how she now paints to capture the world

And if you didn’t think these things then, it’s no wonder you can’t now


If we decide to choose, we can fight with our hearts full of love

Mother Earth is crying but her children keep robbing her of it all

And if you think it’s better to sit on your hands and forget

Come with us and we will gladly show you to some encouragement!

We’re sick of the greedy monkeys who keep tainting our lands and waters

We’re sick of poverty, disease and that our education has gone to slaughter

Now we’re giving you a warning, however, peacefully we offer

The time has come to remember the ones who stood up for all of you cowards


It’s time for a revolution, again

We CAN fight this growing state of desperation

We have a few teachers left who still preach about the cause

So, it’s time to remember the past and stand up for what we want

We can rewrite our destiny with a little bit of courage

They cannot forget about us if we can assemble our chorus

We can sing about love until they ask for more

We will show them that we won’t go away until we know that we’ve been heard




I am grateful for instrumentals that provide ceaseless hours of non-quietness. Currently listening to Lindsey Stirling, which is pretty fantastic writing music! ❤

Lunch Break


I have five minutes
Why am I always tied to the clock?
Numbers that hide the faces of everyone else around
I don’t want to go back yet…
I miss him, I miss the puppies
I want to relax and enjoy the snow
But here I am again counting
I can never focus on anything else

I am grateful to be employed, even if I’d rather spend the day alone writing. ❤




Frost tipped knuckles and rosy cheeks

Clouds of smoke impressing the air

Tightly knitted caps form layers to skin

A quick glance, you looked down, what happened?

Staring blankly past the pane into the darkness

A liminal figure, a shadow

There was only you and me for one second

I caught my breath and then you were gone

Did you know, that I knew

That what I saw was a picture of you

Did you see, that I could see

The face through the window you gave me

Could it be you were so close?

Come back and give me some more

I need your eyes to watch me, stare so deeply

Give me that smile, the smirk I’ve seen

Hold me and tell me it will be okay

Promise me that I’ll see you again oneday

Dark brown hair shooting out from under the folds of grey

Grey skies and coats surrounding your moves

Can it be, I know who you are that is following me?

A coyote who only wishes to sing out

Speak to me, soothe me, understand me

Just come back to me

Lightning, so much lightning

In your eyes, in the twilight

Three strikes of glances that I missed tonight

One blank stare with the shadows in my eyes

Time so slow, you moved me

So, come back and give me some more

I am grateful that I have a house, even if it’s a fixer upper. It’s a nice feeling to own the place where we rest our heads. ❤

Me, At a Glance


Hello! and Welcome to my blog MuseWriter!

If you have been a reader, THANK YOU! I am overwhelmed at times when I receive such great, positive feedback. All of the talent on WordPress amazes me and I am an avid reader of many of your blogs as well. We share an awesome community in this virtual space!

I am currently living in North Carolina, United States and I have to say, I love it here! The excitement of mountain towns and skiing to the left, beautiful historic beaches to the right, and a conglomeration of rural and populated cities in the middle. Definitely a spot worthy of inspiration.

I am a writer, perhaps you may have already read that. I am 26 and I started writing when I was about 13. So in 2013, I’ve written for 13 years after starting to write at the age of 13. Hmmm….maybe 13 is MY lucky number, which means this year is going to be awesome! This would be the perfect time to devote myself to my writing, which consequently I had already decided to do!

My writing is my soul; sounds melodramatic but it’s true. When I was 13, I tried countless times to start a journal and I always failed because I felt embarrassed. Ironically enough, writing poetry was easier. Sometimes it was (and definitely still is) easier for me to write down my negative emotions/thoughts until my mind was free of them. Because of this, I always end my poems with the “I am grateful” line. It’s to remember that no matter how difficult my life might be at one particular moment, I know that I can at least think of one thing to be grateful for. And I always do.

Obviously my writing has changed and developed over the last 13 years but because I’ve always dated my poetry, I can see the progression…which is pretty cool! I’ve  even put the original drafting date of the poem on a lot of my posts.

Sometimes I write something that sounds more like a song than anything else. I LOVE the sound of the acoustic guitar and bought one in my late teens. I use it as a medium to make my writing louder, which is why I post songs sometimes on my blog. My recordings are shotty at best (I’m just using the Voice Memos app on Iphone) so I apologize! I guess my careless strums are meant to be heard as more of a background so to filter out everything else, enabling me to focus on my writing. Or, at least that’s the way I interpret it in my head!

Again, thank you to everyone who has been reading. It’s nice to know that since I’ll be writing anyway, I now have people to share it with. 🙂


Me At a Glance

Museum of Natural Sciences





Purple veins throbbing through the river to the damaged heart

Slightly pumping, but so close to failing

There is no one around for life support

Is there no one who can offer life?


Sickness sets the jaundice skin on fire

A putrid stench that carries the rain home

Flies, vultures, pigs, they’re all alike

The soul’s melting flesh drips off into the trough

How much more can they eat? Forever, it’s not enough


We fade away into hidden faces and numbers

We ignore the hope that screams when we all come together

Afraid to stand up, afraid to be targeted

But already, we all walk around with a bullseye

Centered in our chests, it often beats for attention


Each one slowly falls, demanding retribution and death

And the grim reaper feeds on the hope in our breaths

Our wrists are tied with the thorny branches from the garden

Death slithers in as the light is forgotten

The devils always promise that we’ll live until tomorrow

But what a risk we take to sell ourselves as slaves


Where is our Father, has he forgotten?

Don’t give us life so that we can rot at the bottom

We’ve created our own zombies that wake up to sorrow

Breakable souls that tried so hard not to lose their way

Humans are weak and penetrable

Those who remain alive are motivated by greed


We stay afraid to remember how to feel

But it’s our choice to believe in what’s real

As I lay here, I consider fighting but with a pen

They’ll have to kill me to keep me silent

Finally, I am not afraid but then reality sets in

I could write my history for the person behind me

A timeless tale it will tell

About the time when humanity fell

And how we had to give up to survive…


I am grateful for my childhood spent in the woods of North Carolina. ❤