Humanistic yet cruel Wisely arrogant yet mocking Considerately holy yet cruelly imbedded In the harshness of spring… My other brother.continue reading Crypticism Gallant of Yore
Di & Papa Attachments Mayday Why Humans Lie (to me)continue reading Chapters for “One Lacerated Facade”
Audio January 2016 by Fawn/fb from WilLago & Starr ￼ FB From Will & Lago: Jan 9 2018 We feel your words and images are very beautiful and accessible. It is clear that your love of God is allowing you to not be judgmental and indeed, have mercy on yourself and others. We feel your […]continue reading Merciful Feedback from Others
Kitchen wall writing by Maisy, Age 14 We are many stories. My little family is shattered due to my actions with regard to my addiction to alcohol and its requisite behaviors. My life has been one of extraordinary privilege. Amazing parents, I am conceived and birthed in Japan and physically carried for two years by a […]continue reading What’s Gonna Be Left of the World If You’re Are Not In It?
DaiSuki the Tuxedo Cat lives at a cobbled-together lake place comprised of parts of cottages from the 1940’s. He is stalking a little teenaged Wren. Boom! He pounces on her and catches her, ever so gently, in his mouth. Leaping over the fence into the animal run he carefully carries her into the downstairs Art Studio […]continue reading Just A’lookin’ Over Her Shoulder!
Tomorrow or maybe today Soon yet distanced Sterile feelings Unyielding care Hard softness Rich poverty Diagonal curves Reaping nothing The growth of nothing A nothing heart.continue reading Extrapolating Heart
Still ice forms lips bleed untruths The Mind becomes numb yet I still believe yes I believe in the worth of one’s intent How can it be you ask? It is a place of comfort freedom from war conflict tearing bits of soul into remnants of what could have been Once upon a time. Photography […]continue reading My Friend Alcohol/Sincere Hypocrisy (sincere insincerity)
Fractured into snippets of brushstrokes and dead seeds I wander along the path of rancor and malice Is it so important to be right Is it worth it to leave hearts weary and heaving for oxygen I ask you Is it worth it? Was it? For it is done and now you and I must […]continue reading Without Worth
Chapter One Hope is the thing with feathers; that perches in the soul; and sings the song without the words; and never, stops, at all. ~ Emily Dickinson I am a poet. Well, sort of ~ I am also a dog. Yet many humans don’t realize I have this gift of poetry along with an […]continue reading Ti Amo! A tale/tail of hope ~
We have options As to where where, oh, where do we belong? As the winter of our lives curls up in a corner like a bone-weary kitten our special needs friends family uncertain as to what to do lie in wait anxious for us to finish yet aching with excruciation to make it meaningful.continue reading My Friend II
Too late Forests of hate We incubate A unidirectional radiation of grief. How do we love those who cannot love us? How do I surrender my heart? It is done.continue reading Mother, May I ?
The eyes are cloudy Neck muscles ripple tension catching the light The voice struggles to enunciate Weary, worn, and weak. A bird flutters outside the window Adorning a setting sun On a lavender-colored lake With songs of mating. Inside, the eyes sparkle, rivet, and descend to folded hands on a frozen lap that cannot quite […]continue reading My Friend
My head is soaked Blood splatters across my chest Eyes cry out for nourishment And yet . . . Aching throbbing wincing Hungering dear eyes Half-eaten dreams Recalling what? A time A time when A time when it was embedded Curled scraping ensnared A fatigue of battle ~ with a hint of hope, undead. […]continue reading Battle Fatigue
My heart will beat with the calmness of a newly born soul Held tightly in the arms of the Great Spirit who sees inside those standing near her without fear without tremor without judgment spilling over. Instead I will breed new life within my depression-storing and anxiety-inducing responses and even the agony of stopping too […]continue reading My Heart Will Beat
Thin gangly arms, hair cut above her ears, she lives high in the trees overlooking the Florida seaside town. Her Cherokee mother places her into the ballet classes of a reknowned Italian dance teacher ~ with the hope she will cease beating up little boys. Nine-year-old Muscles would go on to live and breathe classical […]continue reading Muscles Murphey