And you want to run . . .
. . .you really do
but you can’t . . .
You can’t because there’s nowhere to go
too many people depend on you
you want to hide but there’s no place to go
You think to yourself,
“It would be nice if Continue reading
Destination Home
I want to go someplace . . .
I want to be somewhere far away from the city where people smile and say hello. I want be where the wind sounds like music, and where rainfall is beautiful like a fairytale or a lullaby.
I want go someplace where the Continue reading
planting seeds
I can only control so much. The rest is out of my hands.
And I know this.
When I was a boy, The Old Man decided to plant a small garden on the side of the house. He chose the side of the house because our dogs had run of the backyard. We cleaned after the dogs—we even set up a dog pen, which our dogs, Tammy and Devin eventually learned to use, and rather than Continue reading
Junky Poems
White smoke breaks the tension
to euthanize the strain
As you inhale, a small reaction
begins from the central nervous station,
which at last
echoes outward in soft tremors
that dissolve in blood
and flush the system with beautiful waves
of amazing chaos. Continue reading
From Bedtime Stories for the Insomniac and Junkie Stories: Behind The Cans
There I was, curled up in a corner and hidden in the moonlit night behind two trash cans against the side of a single family home. The house was in the middle of the block on a quiet street in an otherwise quiet town. I could not get my bearings as to why I was there or why I had to run. I was unsure of my whereabouts and unsure where to go.
Breathing heavy, I waited and watched a police car slowly creep from down the corner and drive down the street like a predator lurking for its prey.
There was a bright light beaming through the night and shining from Continue reading
From The Daddy Diaries: Something I remember
Just around sunrise over a bridge out east at a place called Shinecock canal, I imagine myself with The Old Man. The sky is laced with clouds holding the various colors of morning and the winds are cool. I imagine this as it was, my first fishing trip with The Old Man.
We woke early. The Old Man dressed me as warmly as possible. My little body was stuffed in a combination of Continue reading
The Best Revenge
They say the best revenge is good living.
So live good . . .
Never let yourself down and live better than anyone ever expected you to. I see this as the key to life. This does not mean everything will be easy. As we all know, life is far from easy. Life is filled with unexpected turns and events. It comes with tragedies and triumphs. The overall goal, however, is to have the triumphs outweigh the tragedies.
Live faster and longer. I say live to your extreme because when it all ends and this ride we live on comes to a complete stop, I want to look back and say I did what “They” said I could never do.
Ever watch the faces of people sitting on a roller coaster?
The ride begins Continue reading
Poetry From Sessions In The Balcony: About the Rain
And so the rain began to fall.
The wind moved with a sound,
as if it had a tail
that whipped passed the window.
The raindrops poured down
and crashed against the rooftop,
which sounded like a stampede
of a trillion little footsteps
hurrying down the slope of the house
to eventually meet the ground.
It is morning.
The gray clouds are like a blanket
that drapes across the sky.
I always saw this kind of day
as Heaven’s method
to soften the madness
and ease the tension
of an everyday world. Continue reading
Written for Awareness Month
They say this is awareness month . . .
Before I move forward, I should explain that I am in no way a professional. I have no diplomas on my wall. I am not trained in the psychiatric field or a counselor of any kind. However, I am someone with a past, which is why this subject is very important to me.
To raise awareness, I choose to expose my own story as it relates to suicide. And I repeat; I am not a professional. Instead, am someone that sat on the other side of the clipboard in an examination room.
I often hear questions about suicide because many cannot understand why someone would take their own life. As an explanation, the following is a brief passage about my experience to explain what I felt and thought during tragic moments in my history. This is my way to enlighten those who may be confused as well as a way to comfort those who might think they are alone. Continue reading
From The Book of Firsts
We all remember our firsts.
I remember my family’s first car. It was a white and blue mustang fastback that rumbled when it started. The interior was blue, and though it was fast, the car often ran poorly. I believe the model was a 1970, but my memories are very few. These were the years before car seats and laws on where children should sit in vehicles.
I remember being placed in Continue reading
The Written Addiction 