In Bloom (poetry)

Things run away, can’t find them

Yet  we remember, long, and despair their loss

Maybe one day the lost are found again

But does their reoccurrence make peace

With the sorrow when they were departed?


A flower in first bloom

That sign of regeneration

Sublime and terrible

Poignant sign of the constant regeneration

The cyclical re-enchantment of our universe

Coupled with all those past nirvana’s

The faded pedals from seasons past

Fallen to the ground, decayed, and now dust

Reminder of the fragility of life, and, ultimately, its passing

Heart wrenching: our fallibility

Heartwarming: our potential

Yet, now, in the season of our bloom,

What do we make of it?

What does it mean to be in season?

Feeling these first pulls of gravity on our branch

Knowing that no longer we grow


All we are is the vibrant color we were destined to be

Here, and now

This mode of perfection we’ve striven towards

And again

And again

What do we make of it

What is it to be here, and now?

To have this potential

This potential that is the meaning of our lives


Here I am, now, typing at a laptop

Just as you, yourself, are somewhere

Not here, not near, but real

Young and still vibrant

Reading and watching those people who were once like us

Seasons past, faded, and failed

It will never strike us

States our hearts

While our subconscious mind moves the boundary

Of where success lies


Into the nether lands of the easily attainable

The low hanging fruit that have been picked clean

Maybe there is still a little nectar left

But we could have ascended new summits!

To use this momentum given to us by gods graces

This momentum that is a universal gift

Shared by you, me, and the other

To metamorphose, to grow wings, to fly

There once, once upon a,

Upon a something

A belief that YES, it is attainable




And now

That we are in bloom

The reality of our downfall

Our  eventual decline: fall to the ground, decay, and then dust



Hanging over our completed ascension

Yes, I can see the future

We over-ripen: drop at our peak

Accomplishing only those things

That were to be the subject within our destinies story

On the road to something greater



Or something

Don’t trust these monologues

Brains frazzled, disconnected and afraid

Looking for poignancy and romance

Looking for a reason

Yes, to accept failure

But there can only be the aesthetic or the real

Rarely does a man find both

The failure of this poem

And a life without passionate words

Comes with the gift of rapture in the waking world

No one may learn the secret colors of this, my private mind

But what is wrong if it is only I who have the pleasure of their revelation

To swim deeply in those waters I aspire to communicate

To share is noble

To hoard is selfish

But if I hoard

I get more of these dreamtime fantasies I wish to propagate

Staying in the reservoir of my own soul

Fuck any god who may despair at my case

Beauty is what I crave

My beauty is mine

And mine alone


Or something

Is this the truth?

My mind feels no revelation

This is not what feels real

Just another layer of fallacy

Another satellite

Orbiting the truth

Never coming closer on its gravitational arc

Yet, not so far away from my nucleus

Maybe an intelligent man

Could find the measure of me

Using this disparity of my lies

But I am no such man

And I tell you,

It is not worth your time in bloom

To try to understand me

Rather, delve into your own mind

Those waters with endless depth


Better yet,

Make that art that must be real

That personally,

I am to imperfect to truly grasp


Or something

Yes, that is something

This feels real

Something to sink my teeth in

To devour


Again, it is not all true

Help me

help me

To be that man that I still want to be

To escape this disorganized cycle

Arrogance and despair

Despair and arrogance

Take away self worth

Realize you are nothing

An ant has the same validity

From the perspective of the closest star

As whatever our greatest accomplishments may be


It is true

Dark, dark, dark

The truth is dark

Yesterday and today,

Yet for tomorrow

May we look towards the future

That blank page

Those unchartered shores,

May we persevere together

Fight these waves

Illusion, delusion

Yet, partially,

Overwhelmingly real

May we fight like men

Men still in our prime

Gifted with the same natural virtues of our forebears

Perhaps more so

May we add to the litany

May we rise to the top of the peaks we idolize


And weep for

May we go there, and lay a thin sprinkling of dust

Adding nothing meaningful

Yet the same amount added as those before us

May we serve the future

No matter how imperfectly

Give them a fresh layer,

Imperceptibly higher,

Yet still, microscopically, a higher vantage point

And if it fails to sate,

A thin excuse for a noble life

Our effort will not be in vain

Perhaps that light dusting we laid

Will be the final critical layer

Or close to that critical layer

That will raise our descendants

To that fantastic revelation

That nirvana all dreams are made of

Where they will be lifted from the darkness

And for the first time

The very first time

See that ethereal  light of truth

In all her glory


Blue (poetry)

drifting out of place
wasn’t there somewhere we were supposed to go
wasn’t there something we were dreaming about

big open skys
still crowd my tired eyes
I remember something different then here
here is here is here is here
but where was I going to?
wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, make bed
blinds open
there is that blue sky
remembering running so fast
laughter in every part of me
was that ever me
was that yesterday or never

another day
another day
smile at the bus driver
thank you sir, thank you
walking to work
get coffee
small talk
what is it we are saying
what is it I’ve ever said
what is priority number one
I can’t really remember
what was I just saying?
I really can’t remember
everyone looking at me
fuck this
fuck what?
let me not break free
let me gather my thoughts
fuck you blue sky
get out of my dreams
you are not where I am
I am not where you are
it is not as it is
it is not as I remember
it is what it is
it is all that it is ever going to be
head held high

a moment of weakness
that shudder of a moment
sometimes, we all have moments of doubt
there are so many lives we are not living
yet, this is all we are. This one life.
This and only this.
Of course I wish I was someone else
Of course, I know that whoever I was
I would dream another dream
Lying on my back
Didn’t go to work today
Maybe it’s a holiday
Maybe, I just had to be human
Children playing over on the grassy field
Looking up at that big ol sky
Blue and blue and blue
So large
So large
I could fall into it
I could dream into it

Who am I again?
Who is it I was ever going to be?
What’s the difference?
Today let me fall into the sky
Let me be nothing else
Except exactly what I am


motherfuckingamie (poetry)



you tear my brain apart

memory on top of memory

and always that feeling of what we could have been


to say I love you is a lie

though I do love you

angel closest to my heart

but what I say is I could have loved you

as a man loves a god

or worships a woman

you are worth loving

you are worth loving


devil angel

closest to my heart

I wish you weren’t the one who I’ve made you

phantom of my subconscious

temptress who no longer tempts

you are not for me

you are not for me




how sadly unpoignant

these silly emotions

they fly through everyone

they mean nothing

because they are not special

a man loved a woman

and the woman disappears

what does one do with that emotion?

put it in a bottle

forget it



rub the bottle

and pray, if futilely

for a genie


there is an emotion here

how strange

when I thought all the passion was forgotten

how absurd

when I know that this emotion

is nothing but a bother

something that I pray I never share with you

but angelest precious

girl of my dreams

who I don’t even love

I don’t even worship

I don’t even want

I just know you are the girl of my dreams




Another Start (poetry)

this eternal feeling of fantasy

never knowing if we are lost in a dream

or just never brave enough to truly wake up

never knowing how to make peace with life’s decay

like that bright flower fading and falling in Autumn


another start

not because it’s needed

not because it’s wanted

everything that is to be said

has already been said

again and again and again

yet, what can be done?

we are still here

still full of passion

still words spring to lips

emotions embodied in hearts

say the words again

say these same words again

not because they are needed

not because they are wanted



they are simply the only words to be said

so say them again

while we are still here to hear them


finally reaching the end of torment

light shouting the dark tunnel is over

here, the deposed angel finally ascends

here, color is finally added to the starved palette

and, here, weeping at  a world that is too much to comprehend

there is only one desire left unquenched

for life to be less beautiful, less complex, less

less to make what you are more

less to make the world an easier ball to grab

less to be a bigger fish in a smaller pool

for the newly risen to fall below the clouds

to be in the darkness of the shadow of ignorance

wishing to ignore the wonders of reality

and praying for the simple serenity

of uncomplicated sleep

a monochromatic life

with a place for everything

and everything in its place


there has to be a right way to live life

there must be a right way to live life

there is a correct answer

there is a way to live a perfect life

to end this dream that encapsulates everything

this sleep that keeps us firmly away from heaven

slumbering in the drudgery of normal life

yes, please

yes, I pray


and yes

and yes

say: there is a way

a way to make peace

a reason to be here

a reason for existence

a reason to wake up from this sleep

a way to acknowledge the dark truths in our eternal hearts

you exist, don’t you, must you, please?


those weeping waves that buffet us at waking

the closest we come to shrieking consciousness

that waking scream of acknowledgement

buried so deep, but universally possessed

yes, balefully



and yes

this life is nothing

sleeping through life to escape the specter of life

in all her meaningless splendor

sleep until we disappear

to never exist again

this is truth

this is what we repress and fly from

this is the reason for the lifetime dream

to never acknowledge the most obvious truth

this is nothing

this life is nothing





we repress this

don’t we?

don’t we?

must we?

is there a real answer?

a yes or no to that baleful scream of humanity?

repress it

repress it

forget it

repress it

repress it

life or no life

all the same

degrading humanity’s greatest feats

to nothing but another grain of sand on the beach

or a galaxy in the sky


it is all the same

repress it

repress it


live in a dream

we were beautiful

maybe are beautiful

is that not something?


but it is all the same

somewhere in-between

there is mulch on the ground

there is a blooming flower

and then there is honey

so sweet

all we are

all we are

all we are


lost again

asleep again

safely dreaming

the map led nowhere

we have come here before

can we just call this somewhere home?

even if it is not the answer to prayer?

try to make peace

dreams of rainbows clouded by reality

or clouds of dreams drowning reality’s rainbow

here is where we are

here is where we stand

and here is all we have

until we dream deeper


starting again

over and over again

this feeling of perpetuality

these revolutions are infinite

were we not just here?

another nowhere?

have we become complacent?

do we trust what we have,

simply because we’ve always had it?

or have found it in our hands?

living a life without seeing our own decay

living a life chasing our tail

until, one day

after those we have touched

those we have loved

are ash on yesterdays wind

after we look at ourselves

after we still see that potential we imbue


the revolutions are not infinite

with or without ever waking from our dream

with or without truth

we will be dust on tomorrow’s breeze

a dream with no dreamer



Rwandatimes (poetry)

two lovelies

two characters

hands ready to catch a stumble

eyes always bumping

that look of love

that vision of perfection

it needs to have no meaning

it is not the reality

it is not real

but let’s fantasize

let’s be fantasy


in another life this could be real

we could call this normal

even the potential is still there

tantalizing us

yes, this life would be wonderful

but is this what we want

thinking that if we take all this

wondrous, yes



weighed against the endless joys

around that next unseen bend

how can we know,

that this is so perfect


another night of laughs

we can admit it, can’t we?

the times have been good



as we live them

we appreciate their inevitable demise

another dance coming quickly to conclusion

another journeys miles becoming finite

this present laughter

will soon join the chorus of laughter

of all those lives we’ve already lived

those chapters already ended

the past lives that were wondrous

yet those past lives, mournfully

they were not spent with each other


confronted by that ever  looming knowledge

the future lives we shall live

those future lives

full of different laughter

and different stories

that we will not spend with each other




while we still orbit each other

may I take the time to tell you a truth


appreciate the endless wonders of infinite

their permutations swirling, so close

yes, yet, always invisible

vainly, we seek to touch the ethereal

to reassure ourselves that life is real

but what is real?

its absence of physical substance

it will raid your soul

it will leave you hollow

don’t let it

breathe the air

of an ever enchanted reality

of an ever holy life

of the endless wonders of infinite


angel darling

the one who isn’t for me

though in some other life

in a different deck of cards

where things aren’t so different

perhaps just one card off

yet the entire pick is deranged

is calling you angel darling

so  fantastic?

this idealized wish

it is so close, just out of reach of the real

maybe even plausibly possible

yet to make this specific dream real

it must come at the expense of the wonderful present

to have the things I dream about

it would mean to not have the things I have

this life of mine

it is perfect

why do we second guess

what could have been

is exactly that

an acceptance of possibilities past

a bus never caught

a man never loved

it is not what is

it is not what isn’t

it is what we make of it

the acknowledgement of our compromises

those pleasant fantasies of a Saturday afternoon

coupled with that very real walk

arm in arm

in some nearby dimension

to hell with the possible

to hell with the fantastical

all I want

is whatever that is given me

and the ability to appreciate it

to love it

to ignore those day dream fantasies

to ignore these real life delusions


my friend,

lend me your life!

fly to the sun

accomplish the impossible

attain every dream


ignore Icarus,

that warning against greatness

that deity of the possible

it imbues fear

it breeds complacency

it makes us settle for the average

(that wretchedlovely average)

at the expense of the holy

fuck it

May the sun burn us

may our wings catch no more air

and lift us no closer to nirvana

may we plummet and perish

and with hope

may we be able to say

despite destruction

despite despair

despite Death

for a moment

we truly flew

we tried

we tried

and once we lose our fear

we can truly set about the hard work

of attaining that impossible nirvana

of finding what we thought was just a dream

our perfect lives


there is no secret

or at least, certainly,

the secret is not hidden


simply stop searching for beauty

those places you look

isolated pinpricks of light

in the majestic endless canvas of the sky

are only those spots

where you find those lush revelations

whose image you’ve already imagined the answer to

my question

my criticism


do those tangible things you search for

so long dreamed for

once found:

do they taste so different then your envisionment?

do they taste different then how your mind depicted them?

no, to me it is no



forsaken answer: no

the secret is

after many a wretched life wasted would regale

as soon as one comes to appreciate

ones endless periphery of vision

one comes to understand that life is endless

and endless wonders populate our infinites

look anywhere and see beauty

look somewhere you don’t expect beauty

and what you will see

i promise you

is that unexpected beauty

That I pray for you to appreciate

that sublime wonder

that every atom

and every star

teems with



we must applaud

that sublime starry equation

that work of art that we are

that work of art we are becoming


now separate

we must applaud

those endless perfections

of the true gods vision

life is about choice

life is about variables

to change one choice

to change one variable

is to change the hegemonic whole

to want a small thing different

is to want the whole different

such a thing is unfathomable

but this current day

it feels right

why change

a perfect present




may we truly chat

one on one

mano a mano

may I tell you what I think

and finally let myself

listen to that subtle spirit

living forever in my chest

that feel deep inside me

which will forever be associated with your name

i wish that spirit would talk inside me forever

i wish the impossible, sadly



i will say

i will say to you

what beauties the world is full of

their overwhelming multitude

we are not prepared to understand

watch life everywhere

truly:  try,

but can one really see?

every ever blooming flower

so close

every flitting smile

on some young passing girl

whose lovely progenitor

never enters your mind.

we never understand

we do not understand any of this

we are swimming through the seas of life

just struggling to stay afloat

just struggling to do our very best

and know,

that while I do not know why

for awhile

while I was here,

with you

in that time that no longer exists

or is at least quickly fading

I did not care

we were together

we were the universe

and for a time

it was enough

life was alive

and to say we laughed

it may be enough

it may have to be enough

we will disappear

we may never see one another again

but we were

and to be

to truly be

is enough


Sweet Delusions (poetry)

I, hurt myself today, to see if I still feel, focused on the pain, the only thing that’s real

Nice legs, want to fuck

Be wild
Throw out convention
Be bad
Find a bed
Fall into wild love
Never leave
Make each other exist
By being one flesh
Chase the nightmares away
By being one flesh
It’s a nice fantasy isn’t it?
An empty feeling
Focused on the pain, the only thing that’s real
What was your name again?
Do you know my name?
An empty feeling

Nice eyes,

Can we fall into love
Peer into each others forever soul
Know each other
Be stronger for being together than seperate
I need you
And oh my god
Is it true? Maybe you need me?
Could we need each other?
Fight the vacancies of the world
Our fears
Our boredums
Can we be more?
Can we be more for being together?
Can we be in love?

It’s a nice fantasy isn’t it
Cannot lightning strike
Oh I know it will hurt
I know I am unready
But a lifetime of darkness for that brief moment of light
That brief moment of happiness
The allure that it can be forever
To be with those eyes forever
That uncomplicated love
Which our own weakness steals from ourselves
I hurt myself today
I hurt myself today

Girl with confidence,

Can you make me exist?
Can we talk and talk and talk
Tear the world apart with childish whimsy
Yes, let us be stronger for what we are together
Yes, let us be able to do anything
As a team
As we
We can do anything

It’s a nice fantasty, isn’t it
To find the missing piece
To not be so terrifically alone
Stare into the void
Stare into the void
And nothing stares back at you
The missing piece comes from ourselves
See if I still feel
Why should such things bother a man?
Put ourselves under the weight of chasing love
That ghost, that killer, that demon
That lie, that truth
Such heaviness, these grey hairs in my beard, these lines around my eyes
Self hatred
I hurt myself
I hurt others
Strange, that to prick yourself with a pin
Have a drop of blood
Others are devastated by your pain
Yet, if you hate yourself
And you smile
Others want to be you
A prayer for metamorphoses, for transformation
To shed our heaviness, our weight, our lead sould
To become the lightness of a butterfly
We should just be lightness
Float high
Past ourselves
Care less
And be
and be
I don’t know who I am
I don’t know who I am
But I am trying to love myself
I am starting to believe
That maybe I am worth being loved


Impressionist (poetry)

just a quick memory of this moment

stone sage and sailor

zipline in the backyard of that blue house

bright blue with red insides

video games and innocence

this isn’t the life dreamed of

but maybe it should be


a flash and a fade

a flash with a hint of fate

a flash and a fade

is that all that my life has been

all sparks

so much attempt at illumination

so much beauty seen in the shadows

all flash

and just a fade


it’s sunny

so it’s perfect


disappearing and forever

always disappearing and forever

always that prayer for something bigger

the quest towards the absolute

or the awe at those mysteries

what about something tangible

what about not worshiping the wall

or failing to break through it

instead there is just the quest for the quiet noble

to build it slowly

spend a life on it

brick by brick

and the finished product

whatever it is

will be yours


be better than yourself


trying to move forward

I don’t want to talk about love

there has to be a feeling above

that means morr than all this fluff

but life is beating me rough

maybe all this shit can get stuffed

another punch to the face

by a girl who thinks I’m a disgrace

and now look at me, I’m lowered


sitting bangin keys at the table

wanna pretend my life is a fable

wondering where my friends have gone

they treat me like I don’t belong

I guess the joke can be on them

cause I don’t really give a damn

even though my brain seems slammed




let  me say the word bliss

tomorrow is difficult

yesterday a memory

but right now, in all it’s imperfect decadence

it is ok

let us even say it is perfect

I am unsure of the future

I am unsure of the past

I am unsure of today

but let this today mean something

are we not happy






Nualapoem (poetry)

clouds or fog
heavens or the sky
just perception
alterable as rain becomes lovely
going from the dark storm
to that soft pitter patter
on the roof just before sleep

we have to go somewhere
there is an attempt to go somewhere
just don’t know where yet
don’t even know why
but it is a type of truth to try
and try we will
yet inevitably unsuccessful
trying vainly to speak that language of eyes
in a description of the colors of another spectrum
we will fail
and we will fail again
and again, and again
another futile raid on the inarticulate
another lovely attempt squandered
yet: the emotion does exist
I promise
it is everywhere
touchable, breathable
just never on my tongue
so let’s waste words and time
let’s take a look again, one more time
and see if we can describe
the indescribable

holloweyes everywhere
unblinking, where can we stare
and be stared back at
real recognition
a futile life’s quest
yet sadly alluring
all we have is miscommunication
the ununderstood foreign
like standing on a cliff
one has the choice to stare at hell
or to stare at the endless sky


rapture becomes addictive
forever looking at rainbows
filled with bliss forever
never thinking
what other wonders
the endless sky is full of


you have to realize a truth
not all truth, but one forceful wave
crossing through an endless sea
it is stated like this:
cast aside seconds
those boxes trapping perception
as one casts aside miles on a walk
or the word count when one speaks
think only of the journey
long or short not a meaningful variable.
with infinite as a measure
there is just forever
and what you make of it

so now make something
make me something
see me and love me
universally regard me as a someone
a someone to read about in books
a someone to see in the stars
yes please, really, gnash with that primordial egoism
it is in us all
all one should really want
and for all the others
the non us’s
with their stares biting into our souls
tearing into our serenity
ignorant of personal mental causality
judges without giving a chance
lacking the realization:
there has to be bravery
easy to look at the different as a liar, sinner
on knees a true god begs

children of men: Arise!
express the true revocation of fear
be strong enough!
to want to be outwardly perfect


you must cast temptation aside
you must embrace chants of sinner
may the hurled stones strike flesh
it’s all nothing
to be yourself
to be true to yourself
to attain inner perfection
to live with honesty
yet, devastatingly
with honesty comes epiphany
we`re all chanters

lost in a mob
singing singing
desiring what everyone desires
but time sees us all the same
waiting to grind us down
run through the mill of endless routine
at great cost trying to maintain perpetual motion
forever in that abstract direction FORWARD
there is another way
there has to be another way
Life for the livers must exist
lie or truth: no difference
there can still (must) be magic
there is still love in the world
atom to tree to moon to constellation
change the course
fuck forward
look for the promised fruits of an afterlife
in a re-enchanted reality
where every prayer for beauty
is answered with a blink of the eye

so heart
yes my heart
my mirror, my special mirror
the window through which I see what I’m not
as entropy carries us into chaos
and marriage as likely as universal absence
I beg you
touch what it is to live
to live a life that tears realities fallacies to pieces
pray in the temple of your consciousness
pray like this:
I will not suffer under the pursuit of happiness
benevolent temptress: I renounce
I will leave perfect happiness as a fallacy
like perfectlove and perfectart
I will chase nirvana
and when she finally deigns to see me
insignificant little me
I will let her in
jesus allah Buddha nature
she is all the same
and heavenly
she will satisfy
I exist
I exist
I exist


Prayer 30 August 2014 (poetry)

thank you my god for this life you have given me

may I see beauty, share beauty, live beauty and revel in beauty

may I be ever better than myself, mind body and soul

my god

with your hand on mine

on the tiller of my life

may we direct me towards the most perfect version of myself

to where I can become the most positive and powerful version of myself

may I have the strength, passion, dedication, grit and discipline in my heart,

may I have the brilliance, genius clarity in my mind,

and may I have magic in my hands

so that for those people that I love

for the entire world

for myself

I can re-enchant reality

and make the world a deeper and more meaningful place

I want to take those seeds and saplings of humanity

and nurture them

so that they can grow, bloom and blossom

fighting towards the canopy of enlightenment and nirvana

I want to make the world a more level playing field

and raise where the playing field is

I want to be better than myself

better than my weakness

better than my strength

better than my humanity

may I be like a river

may I cut, displace and flood the land

but may I do it for a higher purpose

to follow the natural contours of the land

and bring a new form of sustenance to the world

please watch over all of those people that I love

may my mother have peace in her heart

may she be surrounded by grace, magic and love

and may the world be good to her

may my father have peace in his heart

may he be ever better than himself mind, body and soul

and may the world be good to him

may you watch over my brothers Reston and Tory

may they be becoming who they are meant to be in the world

and may the world be good to them

today, may I be better than myself

and not squander the moment


After Completing A Man Dies Peacefully (Loose writing)

Reflecting on Family

When was the last time I saw Tory. I don’t remember. I know the last night, lying on his bed watching a television show eating pizza. Him nagging me, but good naturedly. I’m sure he made jokes about my hair. We were close, or at least I felt close.
Reston, did he walk with mom and me to the bus station? I can’t remember. I do remember also the last night, going to a party, were we that drunk I don’t remember. There was some outside party, people wearing costumes and I was by myself but that is not Reston’s fault. I remember being on his balcony earlier in the day, sharing some craft beer he really liked, I thought it was expensive. Beer is beer. The talking was nice, I felt pride in my brother, I’d forgotten how intelligent he was.
I can’t remember the last time I saw my father. I see him on Skype every now and then, bumbling good naturedly in the background, a cheerful HEY BEAR before getting itchy feet and going back to watching television. How did I get to the airport on that trip? Did we go together? I remember being in a restaurant with him in Goa, him telling me his fears, that he was unsure if this was the life he’d dreamed about. Interesting to hear in those we look to for advice such similar sentiments that eat at our own hearts. I remember meeting him in Dar, his plane early, him sitting on the curb like a little boy waiting for the school bus. He even had a back pack, why did I suggest that? Shit, when was the last time I saw my father? I remember taking him to my favourite dive bar, the Cambie, and watching that strange woman try to flirt with him, strange that women might flirt with my father. Should I fabricate a memory? Should I go through my photos and try to determine. How dare I not remember my own life. It has been over a year since I have seen him.
My mother is an easy memory for the last time I saw her, her voice always breaking at the very end, myself watching her go through airport security and when she is gone she is gone, was her visiting me here in Kigali just a dream?
Who else enters my mind? Jordan at Mount Rushmore, what a nice trip that was. Running with Victor in Lethbridge, Mike’s place, a family that was my family but won’t be my family again. Alexia being sweet, leaving that shitty Mexican restaurant, our hearts close together but I don’t know if they speak anymore. Pedro and me getting drunk into nothingness, the glow of being a finalist at MIT 100K. I think he walked with me the morning after to the subway, did he leave me there, at the top and watch me descend the escalator? Julia in Kampala, making sure she got on the bus, seeing her only so many hours, just enough time for her to make me feel a love for a family that is my own and still is my own but is so far away. Who else is there? Could I go on like this forever? Just meandering through my memories, pleasantly opening doors as I walk around. I remember going for a walk trying to go through my life in reverse, remembering all the different beds I had slept on in my life. I need to go to the pool, but let me open a few more doors. Lyndsay at a coffee shop trying to order concert tickets to a band I’d never heard of but now I sing karaoke to in Kigali. Amie dropping me off in her RAV4 with there being the thinnest crust of snow on the ground. My grandma waving from her window at the top of the retirement community. Guy, all I remember is there was emotion in his voice. Ceri at fucking Newark, or was that her coming? Harley on Skype yesterday wearing grandpas chain. Roberta in Toronto walking through the cold air along the water.
Let me go to the pool.

Randerson Ridge

On a big mountain looking for dinosaur bones. Swing sets in the background, I played on them but not right now. They are full anyway. Let me lift my legs mightily and reach the top and now I am here and I don’t really expect to find dinosaur bones but who knows, the world is full of mystery and every day I am experiencing novelty. Is that true? I wonder where Shaun is now, I did now know we were friends then, maybe it was not Shaun, maybe I was by myself. I walk down the back of the mountain and I don’t remember what I did next, I’d like to think I lay in the grass and floated into the blueness of a forever large sky but I doubt I cared enough. I used to like skipping, not skip rope but the way of walking. Maybe I skipped back to class as the bell rang, past all those others whose names I can remember but whose lives have disconnected from me. What was the sound of the school bell?

By Luang Prubong

Bike riding down the mud road, I am lost in my mind. The fertile green hills surround me, where am I? I am lost and that is a wonderful feeling. I know I will be found, the world is not such a large place, but for the moment let me be lost. Pedal pedal. Pedal pedal. I wonder what I was thinking about on this day? Strange that memories can be incomplete. I imagine I was a bit hungover that day, why else would I bike around for hours and hours. Where was I? Luang Prubang. Was that this life. Let me not get lost, there is something here I want to capture. The story of jumping off the water truck. I saw it from a distance, it looks like a gasoline truck. Parked half way in the water, women and men clustering in front of the little dam at the front of the lake. They are fishing? Cleaning? I can’t remember. There are these really beautiful boys jumping off the roof of the water truck, lithely climbing up the hulking frame to jog down the curver roof and leap into the water: canon ball. They are beautiful for their freedom, for their communal humanity, for the fact that they are having fun for the sake of fun and that is all the purpose they need. I remember watching them with envy: what a terrific amount of fun. Then, I remember opening in my mind a thought, unveiled to me like the mystery inside of a just bloomed flower: I am free too, why can’t I join. It’s dangerous, the water is shallow, what if there are rocks, what if I slip. Death and its specter always choking me, the shuddering fear enters my lungs. But I am free. Let me die, let me slip, fuck the world and fuck myself: let there be action, let me be my own master. I grin and I grinned. I stripped down to my underwear and the boys see me and start cheering me on. I wonder if they will steal my phone? Let them, but let me trust them, for a moment let me not be me, let me be one of them. I start climbing up the ladder to the top of the truck. It is taller than I thought, I am high up. Shit shit. Do I go to the edge and look? No. They jump, I saw them, let me just do what I need to do. I tell my feet to run and I do not think, for a moment my brain is weightless, without though. I was alive for that moment, how wonderful it was. The water embraces me and its crisp temperature reminds me for a moment of some forgotten memory. I was with my brothers, that is the only thing I know. I come back to the surface and am greeted by smiles. Not just from the boys but from all the others. I don’t mean to smile but I do, just the pleasure of life, the meaning of life, this did not have to happen but it did and I love it. I laugh for a moment. Then I get control. I put my clothes back on, give a kinda curtsy thing with another big smile, but this one just show respect, let me share my pleasure with all these others, may we enter each others heart together, then I hop on my bike and continue being lost.

Memories From The Riu Hotel

waking up in the middle of the night

grabbing a bottle of tequila

it is finished

take the vodka

still drunk

blood slurring from left to right

in the pitch black flash a smile

pour a glass and praise god

pour a glass and praise life

open the door, careful, don’t slam it

they are asleep

let this moment be without them

the dark air fills lungs

breathe in

breathe out


go outside to the music

all the other like you are in their beds

let all these be the others

see them smile at you

they know who you really are

your real brotherhood

a moment of love in your heart

ahhhh a table

and a pen and paper

you know the words will be lost

you even leave them on the table

tomorrows trash

but let, for a moment, the words flow

praise god

praise life

praise alcohol

praise sin

praise the devil

praise yourself

worship the inadequacy of the words

worship the moment


another glass

was it rum not vodka

was it gin

it’s all the same

go back to

go back to life

let the moment disappear

never remembered

is life different for it having happened

Sitting Outside on a Keyboard

Sitting outside type on a keyboard. The keyboard is not very good, the words don’t flutter naturally. He is sweating so much. Why?
He is not at peace but he does not know why. He has been drinking in the last night, but that is normal. He has been howling at the moon but that is normal. He is older than he was, but isn’t that true of all of us. Is he happy with his days? Maybe that’s not the question.
He is not at peace with himself. Shall that be the story? What right does anyone have for peace. Why is peace something worth fighting for, life should be without peace, mankind forced to fight and fight and fight and fight.
This man is a bit of all of us. There would be something to learn from understanding his discontent. But what sort of a story would that be? Boo hoo, a man who does not know his place in reality. What a novelty. No, he story has been said by other who are better, and even for them the words mean nothing.
The answer for this man is to live life, or to not. Each is the choice, and only our own choice to make. To wake up and say today I choose to live, then to follow through and actually live with the repercussions of that choice.
This story has no beginning, middle or end. This story is not a story. It is just a question, a question whose answer we all have the key to, but don’t want to open the door.

Sitting outside type on a keyboard. The keyboard is not very good, the words don’t flutter naturally. He is sweating so much. Why?
He is not at peace but he does not know why. He has been drinking in the last night, but that is normal. He has been howling at the moon but that is normal. He is older than he was, but isn’t that true of all of us. Is he happy with his days? Maybe that’s not the question.
He is not at peace with himself. Shall that be the story? What right does anyone have for peace. Why is peace something worth fighting for, life should be without peace, mankind forced to fight and fight and fight and fight.
This man is a bit of all of us. There would be something to learn from understanding his discontent. But what sort of a story would that be? Boo hoo, a man who does not know his place in reality. What a novelty. No, he story has been said by other who are better, and even for them the words mean nothing.
The answer for this man is to live life, or to not. Each is the choice, and only our own choice to make. To wake up and say today I choose to live, then to follow through and actually live with the repercussions of that choice.
This story has no beginning, middle or end. This story is not a story. It is just a question, a question whose answer we all have the key to, but don’t want to open the door.

A Day of Smiles

a day of smiles

grimacing cheerfully

don’t let this be like all the others

fear and grace leave these words

let there be just emtion

but specific emotion

words in a heart

heart in the words


that is like all the others

those things that don’lt say what need to be said

breathe in breathe out

breathe in breathe out

breathe in breathe out

the words are not these

do the words exist?

breathe in breathe out

is being alive a pleasure?

yes, yes. why not

there is no emotion

there is a bursting,

the dam does not break

is there a we in these words

if we could stare each other in the eyes


to just exist

but that is not real

not lonely, but everyone is alone

interconnectedness is not the fate of man

to search and not find

to find what is incomprehensible

bark at the night

scream at the day

all is something

let there be a primality

a free growing towards the sun

let us not understand

the words are not here

where are the words

the words are not here

what is it that needs to be said?

breathe in breathe out


the words are not here

what if we never grow up

what if we never grow up

just the yardsticks keep pushing

chasing meaning

dreams always a step away

endless idealism keeping our smiles strong

we will be those things we dream of being

we will be those things we dream of being

smell that sweet rose

basking in the hot afternoon sun

the water is good

but it is still wilting

the smell does not go away,

the scent may even become stronger

but we can see how it will rot

pedals fall, pulled down by gravity

the end of its life

yet, why see it at this moment

even as a seed we new that decline was its only future

out of bloom

the pedals begin falling

yet we can also look backwards, remember the seed

time a two way path

seed to death

and death to seed

we were never going to do those things we dreamt of

we were never going to do those things we dreamt of

but life is ours, seed to death

death to seed

life mapped before  a single breath

everything predetermined

the only unknown

whether we take joy in the ride



Self made soulless abstraction

Fighting with vigor but no heart

All I want is to hear something that makes me sad

All I want is something that makes me smile, a smile without care

To feel

Endless control, I will stare the devil in the eye

I will stare god in the eye

A force of nature, but not by choice

An immovable statue

Solid granite in an ethereal world

Watching all these fragile dancers

Splashes of color, mutable and transient

Let us look at each other with envy

Shall we not trade?

Or is it too late?

Let me invest in my granite

May I become an ever stronger rock

But how I wish to dance

Attempts at euphony

Found again lost again found again

All in just a blink

Waking up some days in bliss

Waking up some days self loathing

Life is a trip

Everything beautiful and fun

To smell the sweet fresh air

Or look at glistening stars

From the dock on the lake

With a beer in my hand

Not those things dreamed for

Where is the nobility in quiet moments

But perhaps they are the things that should be dreamed for

What happened to childhood dreams

Then, maybe, it is good I did not become a rapper

What happened to childhood whimsy

Then, did I not teach a child to fly

Or lie to that girl about being a Baron

These musings do nothing

An unconfused mind with a dedication of purpose

Looking for something to push against

Life is imperfect

I suffer

And am sad

But no more than the other

Things are the way things are

I choose to be blissful

I choose to be peaceful

I choose to be dedicated

I choose to see beauty

If there is any other truth

Then I accept it

Then I ignore it

And I carry on as myself

brainstorm no forgiveness novella
What If there is no forgiveness
A novella
Alone in beda memory of she who isn’tA certain lonelinessTo never see each other againEvery day climbing a mountain without topA door that will not openA real lonelinessA light extinguishedAn end that came too soonAnd an another that can’t comeSoon Enough