Poetry – The Crimson Bed

Once I saw a horrid face, who stood in my path, a crying face so sad.

A wave of guilt and misled anger is knit upon its face so ugly-

Tangled threads obscure my sight to something much more lovely.

Twitch in pain as tears ran freely from sunken eyes so sad and dreary-

Knitted visage, what shame you bring, to a sage so worn and weary?

Rolling tongue and shaking head, it pled to me with crimson dread-

Eternally wed within my bed and nestled deep within my head.

I cannot run away from this head a bloody red-

For in its face I see myself – lying dead in bed.

Poetry – Toxicity

Be mindful of the honey-kissed lips of mischievous company, for it brings about a subtle and seductive destruction.
A dozen red roses blooming with an acrid smell and poisonous to the mind. It is seeping through any cracks.
Roots are as green as envy – a color of money.
Unfeeling, unphased, unapologetic.
The beautiful serpent slithers through the empty skull like a potent neurotoxin.
Beware, those whose will is made of glass, for you will shatter under the weight of your own mistakes.
Heed your animalistic instinct and tread lightly through the grass – for it hides many snakes.

Musings – Our Microcosms

Birthed using the power of neurons and creativity are creatures of all shapes and sizes. We create microcosms in our mind; akin to tiny universes or demi-planes. Our creations either flourish happily, live in misery, or thrive somewhere in between. At a whim, our doodles and sketches take on personalities and begin living the life we lay out for them. I like to amuse myself with the thought that with every creature we birth life into – using words, ink, or a digital medium – we create another word just beyond reality. With every creation we make we take a little spark from our mind. Who knows, we too may all be some cosmic scale artistic creation. However, we also have the dynamic ability create things using our mind, so perhaps we are a unique case?

Poetry – Elemental Energy

Speak like thunder. 
Nourish like rain.
Explore new wonders.
Playing life’s game.
Become a force of nature in your life. We are all made from the classical elements.
Our bodies warm like fire and give us the energy to accomplish things.
Our lungs breathe in air and allow us to exchange knowledge.
Our bones are strong like earth and allow us to stand and travel.
Our blood runs like water and allows us to birth new spirits.
Use every elemental tool at your disposal, for we are all capable of great things when challenged.

Musings – Strength in Numbers

While there are times when one cannot take the burnt of mankind, never forget that there are others just like you who suffer the same fate as well. Finding strength in yourself is the pinnacle of self-reflection and power, but do not allow this to cloud your mind to others and the world around you. The human spirit finds its strongest foundation in the cooperation of like-minded souls. There is no need to suffer alone, to strive for your dreams alone, nor should there be any shame in receiving help from others. There are great sages that wander this world and some of them have answers to problems that you thought had no solutions, all it takes is having another perception of things. Rich or poor, tall or small, great or humble, these sages come in many forms. Through the sharing of knowledge and aid, the human spirit finds greatness, as well as the ability to accomplish things thought physically impossible.

The medium we write and derive entertainment from could not have been accomplished by one person alone. Neither would the lessons we incorporate to strengthen ourselves be accomplishable without someone discovering and showing others the way at first. While it is good to have strength and independence in one’s own mind and self, do not allow pride to burn the bridges that would lead you to even greater heights of positivity. The internet has connected all of humanity into one metaphysical mind and to ignore such vast connections is close to impossible today. The loner need not trust all of mankind, but they should also understand that there are humans – perhaps ones just like you and I – who wish to change this world and enflame the minds and spirits of others with the brilliance of kindness. The power of the lone individual is great but it becomes even greater when it is amplified by love from others.

Musings – Beyond Sight

Within the eyes of those who were touched by the Muses, creativity flourishes. An almost limitless number of worlds and works are created through mere thought. Even those who are physically blind can still find inspiration through touch and sound. From the intangibility of dreams to the physical rhythms of music, the mind becomes instilled with the essence of fantasy, which bestows upon our corporeal world marvelous creations both great and small. Creativity is the magic of the mind and the mana of the human spirit. Treat your fellow artists well, for they bring zest to this world and worlds beyond.

Musings – Our Dreamscapes

Search upon the dreamscape of the human mind and you will find things unlike anything else. Experts in dreams have said that dreams can be a way for us to experience and build defenses against hardships that may appear in the physical world. However, when these dreams twist into bizarre and unrealistic scenarios that could not possibly happen in the physical world, that is when one needs to question what intentions these dreams may have they. We each have our own individual sayings and judgement about these oddities within the dreamscape. But one thing to consider is that we experience these dreams alone most of the time. If you find someone who has also experienced a dream very similar to yours, pay close attention to what they have to say. Although you dream alone, you are not alone in your dreams.

Poetry – Pearls of Wisdom

Exploring out and beyond familiar lands, you will come across a beautiful vista of opportunities and choices. The feelings are intense and sometimes frightening, but you know in your heart that this is what you were looking for.

Hunting for.

Searching for.

Striving for.

Every pearl of memory you collect strengthens you. You are empowered by your determination and will not stop until your heart and mind is satisfied. Some people dream big, but you have the power within you to make your dreams limitless.

Short Story – The Clock Stops Ticking

This was the greatest moment of their life. Standing before them was their lover of six years. Today was the day they would finally encapsulate their love in sacred matrimony. After exchanging vows, they closed their eyes and prepared a kiss that would officially proclaim their love to all their friends and family. The moment was intense, their heart was beating intensely and there was the sudden sound of white noise in their ears. They felt a sudden chill and opened their eyes.

It was all washed out. Everything was washed out, blurry and frozen in time. Their lover was still there but completely smeared like a badly painted portrait. They could not make out any of the features of their lover. When they tried to reach out and touch them there was an unusual sense of avoidance – like their hand was an opposing magnet that repelled the blurry image of their lover away from them. They began to panic and tried to embrace their lover, only to see their washed-out appearance drift away and dissolve. They screamed as confusion and fear began to fill their mind as they saw their one and only vanish right before their eyes. As tears began to fill their eyes, they turned their attention towards the congregation, hoping to find some resolution to this bizarre and inexplicable event.

There was no-one there. The entire building was empty. Everyone, their friends and family, gone. The chairs, the tables, the benches, everything was missing. The stained-glass windows high above were now colorless and featureless. Only the slightest amount of light escaped through these windows and the entire room – once lively and bursting with color and the chatter of happy people – was a dim, washed out gray. They ran towards the doors in an attempt to escape this living nightmare, but every door they found was bound and barricaded by cold-iron bars that resisted every attempt to move them. As their panic reached its peak, they tried to kick, punch and force their way through each door, bruising themselves as they wailed in fear and pain. There was nothing they could do. They were alone and trapped in this surreal hell, alone. With all hope lost, they laid upon the floor and wept. The only thought that lingered in their mind was “why?” They could not comprehend why this was happening to them nor why at such a precious moment in their life. Then, finding nothing else they could do, they became desperate.

They sulked over their fate and began to bargain with, plead, and pray to every deity they could name. They asked forgiveness for any wrong they could remember doing to anyone throughout their life. They begged for mercy, shouting out as loud as they could that they would become a better person to everyone if they could just have another chance outside of this surreal hell. Days went by with them constantly pleading for an escape out of this slowly darkening room. They noticed the sun never sets, yet, the light that came through the stained-glass windows was beginning to recede. The room that was once known as a sacred site for people to commune their purest love was now becoming a tomb. When the pleading did not work, they resorted to curse out and deny all of these so-called deities. There was nothing out there, no one was listening. If there was some higher power out there, it listened and responded with only an uncaring and cold silence. The days felt like weeks and they slowly began to find themselves wasting away, their muscles weakening and their stomach howling in agony for any sustenance. Just as they were about to lay down and finally give in to hopelessness, they heard something, a sound that did not emanate from their sore throat.

It was muffled, but they could hear voices just beyond the barricaded doors. A newfound strength filled their weak body as they scrambled to their feet and ran over towards the door. They immediately pressed their ear to the door and heard what sounded like people talking.


It sounded like a woman’s name. They began to pound their hands upon the door. They tried what ever they could to get the attention of the person just beyond the door. Their efforts were returned with more muffled speaking and nothing else. “Fuck you! I know you can hear me! Open the fucking door!” They screamed out at the person on the other end. They concluded that someone must have drugged then kidnapped them. Their thoughts began to scramble with the image of face upon face, trying to find who would be capable of doing this and why. They weep as they realized whoever was beyond the door was most likely ignoring their pleas and curses. They slumped against the door they began to feel the stress of the moment begin to take its toll on their already weakened body. At the very least, the muffled voices would accompany them in their final moments as they withered away… in their hospital bed.

Poetry – The Sage and his Rivers

The gray chill and clouds within my head disperse and I see several rivers before me. I still feel damp from the thoughts of yesteryear, but I notice I have started to dry off. Shifting through the water that runs through these rivers of thought is my primary goal now. I will sort and filter curiosities from the murky depths of these rivers and collect the golden memories that are so rarely scattered about. Amongst the refuse I find flesh-like aberrations by the hundreds, all of them interconnected by tendrils that give them the appearance of tar-black jellyfish. They sting my skin as I scope them out, yet, I know my efforts will not be in vein. These tendrils, these bad memories and impulses, pollute the otherwise crystal-clear river of my mind. These sticky, painful tendril hook upon my flesh and, although the physical pain is minor, the emotional pain they cause is tremendous. I ache, I cry, and I curse, as my work becomes an audacious endeavor to purify myself and my rivers of these toxins.

There is hope for me yet as I find out that I am not alone in cleaning the pollution from these rivers of mine. I see a crystallized form place their hand upon my shoulders and soothe the burning sensations in my head. I see a crescent moon – who embodies maturity and tenacity – reflect upon the surface of the water, guiding me to where the most poisonous tendrils are. I see a skilled foxlike warrior, one as carefree as a breeze, squash and sunder any tendrils that lash out against me. Finally, I see a tremendous warming phoenix hover above me – the mother phoenix – and fill my heart with encouragement and solidifies my will to see this task come to its completion. Once more, I feel tears fall from my eyes, but these are not tears of pain, but tears of happiness and resolve.

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