Monthly Archives: January 2016

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 ❤


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 ❤

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