Sinking Deeper

Sinking Deeper

Sinking deeper into the sea
The cement blocks are
External burdens
The rope wrapped around me
IS me
If I can release myself
From myself,
I can cut away the weights at my feet
And unravel myself free
Burdens are fixed
A limited mind can be tricked
The objective of blocks
Is to anchor me to the aphotic bottom
The rope is my imagined constraint
The rope alone drowns me
The blocks alone drown themselves
One hand loose, and I go up

Changing oneself is the obvious solution. Why do we miss it so easily? Perhaps because the weight of our circumstances is more noticeable, even painful. The ties that bind are uncomfortable, constraining, and annoying, but weight hurts, exhausts, controls the direction.

To cut off life’s problems is also swift. Escaping from personal knots can take a long time. For peace of mind you don’t get to do what’s easy first, then what’s hard.

Talk about keeping us humble.

I’ve Heard Enough

I’ve Heard Enough

I think I’ve heard enough.
I get it, you like it rough.
There really isn’t a conversation,
discussion, or debate, is there?
We’re all about your way.
And your way is my pain.
Like the small animals you maim.

I’m sorry you can’t feel yourself.
I’m not feeling you either.
You’ve limited your imagination
to only what resembles you.
And torturing others is progress.
To see someone else suffer
is cause for applause.

I understand now.
This is your time to weaponize
what makes you uncomfortable.
Your problems are now my problems
to prove you’re a victim.
I’m done fighting fair, or my way.
I’m playing your unsustainable game.
But I guess you’re winning.
My destruction is your living.

I’m finished listening. To call out an asshole for being an asshole is a compliment to an asshole. They’re having the time of their lives.

I’ll survive, self sustain, perhaps even be more neighborly.

Smart or not, educated or not, an asshole is an asshole. I’m recalibrating my position, starting with being done.


Her Reaction

Her Reaction

We treat Mother Earth

the way we treat women.

We’re not really doing anything wrong to her,

her reaction is what sucks.

I’ll sometimes humble myself by standing next to the ocean. As much as I’m too restless for my own good looking for greener pastures around the world, the town I presently reside in offers a voluptuous shoreline. A Puget Sound sunset should be on a bucket list. But this isn’t a tourism ad. The health of the planet is what has been on my mind. 

I expect to see some dramatic changes in climate and nature in general over my life time. I’m not supposed to. Despite my dissatisfaction almost everywhere I go, I don’t want to move to another planet. I’m actually content here. What’s worse is being forced to go because someone had to be an asshole instead of a whole human. And way too many of us are like that.

I know haters don’t want to be convinced. But the reality of our existence is beyond them. Is it simply human to be entitled? Are we so ego centric to think the Earth is ours and should just give and give? She’s not going to take it any longer. Right now she’s just being passive-aggressive. Watch what happens when she snaps. 






Life As Better

Life As Better

Measuring the time of a better life

depends on who you ask.

Life as better cannot be defined

in a three dimensional photograph.

Life as better hasn’t happened yet.

If I wanted to remain in the past

I would have ended myself then

and left a nostalgic corpse.

Instead, I go onward

along with the erosion of mountains

and aging of the moon.

An old oak that outlives generations of humans

does so by periodically sprouting new life.

A life of perpetuating memories is a life stopped.

Blasting back to the past makes me uncomfortable. Nostalgia is rare for me. When I observe others trying to recreate the atmosphere of their childhood, or keep repeating a personal era that appeared special, or hold onto tastes that they insist should still be relevant, I find this existence to be anachronistic. A burden, and insecure.

I want to keep pushing onward no matter the damage done to me. I haven’t had any glory days so far, at least I hope not. I’m pretty unimpressive if the past is the best I can do. Priorities change, but the goal of arrival has not.

Humanity seems split between those gripping fast to an unreliable past, and those trying to brave the unknown future. I must be a young soul, always looking forward to what is new. My past hasn’t happened yet. I wear life on my face and process age in my head, but I brave the unknown future.





Just one investor

A going out of business clearance sale

Only salvaging pennies on worthless items

Just one investor

To reflect back in his eyes the value of potential

I never got out of the red

Should’ve never got out of bed

I rely on the outside at the cost of pride

An empty store front

Bought up by something new I’ve never heard of

I needed just one investor

Sometimes we rely too much on external validation. I’m terribly guilty of that. From love to worth, what is around me reflects me.

Sometimes I so badly want someone to come in and save the day, whatever that means. I seem to fail at helping myself. And watch the world go on without me.

The internal world is my new investor. She doesn’t have a lot to offer, but space and time. I can work with space and time.

The Answer

The Answer

The Answer

Everyone has the answer
The answer is everywhere
The answer is right in front of you
The answer is in the details

The answer

The answer is forced
The answer is ignored
The answer is the right energy
The answer doesn’t smell right

The answer

The answer is money
The answer is black and white
The answer is male and female
The answer is children
The answer is prayer

The answer

The answer is in a holster
The answer is regulations regulating regulations
The answer is blood

The answer

The answer is an erection
The answer is a gentle touch
The answer is his bravery
The answer is her leadership

The answer

The answer is to demand
The answer is to shut up
The answer is to vote
The answer is to congregate
The answer is to divide and conquer 

The answer, the answer

The answer is abstinence 
The answer is sex
The answer is commitment
The answer is choice
The answer is independence

The answer

The answer is to talk
The answer is regular checkups
The answer is in a pill
The answer is timing

The answer

The answer is understanding
The answer is faith
The answer is to learn

The answer

The answer is freedom 
The answer is the law

The answer

The answer is trust
The answer is distrust
The answer is the truth

The answer

The answer is in the question
The answer is to find an answer

The answer

The answer is  


I’m back online, looking for answers. Giving answers.

Papa, I Borrowed Your Gun

Papa, I Borrowed Your Gun

Papa, I borrowed your gun

I decided not to run

Papa, I borrowed your gun

You were right about that one

I borrowed your gun today

Some say you raised me right

Others believe I shouldn’t fight

But I borrowed your gun today

Who is the villain now?

The one who starts it, or the one who finishes?

Who is the victim now?

The one who starts, or the one who finishes?

Papa, I borrowed your gun

He tried to run

I borrowed your gun, Papa

It wasn’t for fun

I guess I could go to the police again

Straighten out my heart and head

But I borrowed papa’s gun instead

Change out the word “gun” with “power” and re-read. I know, the rhyme scheme is interfered with, but that’s not important. How does the poem resonate now?

As long as she’s a father’s daughter, like how the old fashion comfortable story above illustrates, she’s approved to have access to “power”. If she was an individual taking matters into her own clutches, she being the gun owner, she’d be simply investigated.

Finding an image for this post was eye opening. Images of women with guns were mostly models with ridiculous cleavages, a few military service women, and as for girls, daughters looked more like sons. There were no images of everyday plus size women with rifles, no women over 40 packing a Crimson Trace, no girls in glasses with braces wearing a tiara pointing a glittery but real shotgun. It’s no accident women are hardly  marketed to, or encouraged really to purchase “power”. Women with “power” is to be kept as a novelty. We’re still borrowing. And not for our sake.

IMAGE:  Eiko Ojala “Tough Talk and a Cowardly Vote on Guns.”



The Day She Stopped Complaining

And Got to Work

He was right
If only she would stop complaining
The world revolves around him, anyway
So she can’t complain
He’s not really hurting anyone
He feels great
Isn’t that the point?
That is why she arrived,
To serve his high
Well, she stopped complaining today
And now he’s being taken away
Complaining about what is unfair and inhumane
She got to work, unafraid
Of a wrong she had to right
Too bad he couldn’t just change his mind
He had too much fear inside
This is what happens when she no longer complains
The world is a bed she makes
It’s her world to share
With men who don’t complain

The narrative of power is changing. Women are not mere sidecar riders with a role in someone else’s story. They are the story. The human race has no story without them.

Women don’t want to put their thumb on the power scale, they are removing the male entitlement thumb off. And all the Weinsteins of the world know that.

We are no longer having a one way conversation. Now everyone is powerful

IMAGE: Oren, AKA Solitarium

No Call


No Call

No Call

No Echo

Nobody signaling ‘over here’

No finger pointing

Even with whom I’m connected to,

There is no connection

I’m a fly

Wanting to join the party

I only crash them

A door to door salesman

Nobody buying

No longer charming

Been feeling really disconnected from everyone and everything, lately. An island. I’ve even put down my phone. I start to wonder how alienation will take form on my face. It’s just me and the news; what a weak combination.

So I start from the beginning. I walk. I walk among trees. I walk along the shore. I walk with the river. Mother is a good place to start to connect. I’m still at her breast. I will grow soon.

I want to touch nothing. I have nothing to say. But maybe I’ll start to wave.



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