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For the last 25 years, we have experienced non-stop “historical events”. We had short period of hope from 2010 – 2015, when it looked like things might get better. The economy finally appeared to be recovering, and the LGBTQ community finally got the rights they deserved, but the election of 2016 brought that crashing down.…
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I started working on my novel again. It’s a project that I pick-up and put down so often that I can’t even remember when I first started. Inspiration comes in waves, and it’s easier to find excuses than it is to find motivation. So, year after year, I tell myself that I’ll finish the first…
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There’s comfort in chaosThat an organized mind Would struggle to find while Navigating through thoughts Falling out of boxesAnd side-stepping timeMelting like Dali’s clocks. When ideas are litteredLike leaves after harvest,And wasted hoursSpill from managed blocks,Calm grows in the refuse- Nourished from the decomposed conceptsOf productivity and order.
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The dragon’s breath was thick and cold, Echoing in the crags of its rocky lair With the sound of cowbells ringing somewhere far below. And a path so narrow and steep, It would be missed if not for the warning signs marking its way. Maybe it was a good thing we couldn’t see beyond the…
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There are ancient ruins across the street. I can see Porta Nigra from my room. As I write this, I am sitting in the open window, sipping a cup of coffee while my laundry dries in the open air. Tourists walk under the gray stone arches onto a bustling street. A scene so different from…
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I’m not the neighbor Mr. Rogers knew I could be When I refuse to grieve For a man who openly mocked empathy. A man who reduced lives to a price To be paid for his right to bear arms. “To be a neighbor”, Rogers taught us, Is to forgive and be kind. But I can’t…
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Butcher Language.Chop your prose with punctuation.Splice your sentences to fit your thoughts. Shape language.Twist your words to craft new meanings.Bend the rules of grammar to your will. Steal language.Ravage dictionaries for inspiration.Wield each syllable as a tool for creation. Language is meant to be used.
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I struggled, so no one else should. This shouldn’t be a controversial statement. I know how it feels to struggle physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially. Because I’ve experienced that pain, I don’t want anyone else to experience it. I don’t feel this way because I’m some sort of angel or saint– I’m far from it.…
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Capitalism killed the artistSo they could sell the corpse.They pick it apart, piece by piece,Like chop-shop scavengers. Then they reassemble it,A mockery of the artist’s work. A hapless thing they forced into life,A Frankenstein’s monster.
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Gaslights flicker in the heavens now,Since the sky fell and smothered the stars.They tell us that this nightmareIs just a dream, not reality.Until we believe that thisIs the way it always was.
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Bringing Mae Flowers 