art, introspection, pain, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality

Naive Wishes

Paint me with naive wishes 

They are the only ones worth having 

Haven’t learned fear 

Haven’t known failure 

Still have the time to prove 

Paint me with with naive hope 

That has every reason to go on forever 

Doesn’t need to be realistic

Doesn’t feel pressured to be responsible 

Young enough to know no limits

Paint me with naive love 

That blooms in every young soul 




In the face of every sad love song

introspection, nature, pain, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality

Whimsy Heart

Plead with me 

One more is meant to be with me 

But only if he’ll see in me 

What I may see in him 

There’s too much here to give 

And I will give it all away 

Far too fast 

And they will leave with me 

Swimming in their past 

See I can’t hold it back 

Like how they all tell me to 

For all my whimsy heart is full of dance 

And life to give for you

introspection, pain, philosophy, Politics, Uncategorized

A Valid Voice

Don’t be afraid of being wrong, be afraid of living life without a voice.

Conversation and debate is tricky. There are usually an intense amount of emotions present in intellectual discussion, which warps everything out of control. It makes having a truly enriching discussion very evasive. I filter what I say, and even what I think, based on the perceptions of others and the mainstream. I think more people do this than would readily admit, again, because therer is an ego to protect. In my life I have been domineered into subscribing to points of view politically, religiously, and in every opinionated category that exists. The way our beliefs shape up are largely based on how the environment around us shapes us.

My point with all this is not to tell people not to have an ego. You just can’t abandon your ego. Pride drives people, and it drives me. What I’m saying is, that I want to be in the conversation. I don’t mean just talking about things, I mean, I want to formulate my own opinions instead of regurgitating others’. I want to use my voice, and I cannot use my own voice if I do not have my own thoughts.

What I’m saying is, I’m okay with being wrong. I want to hear why I’m wrong. I want to change and grow, and I want to be challenged. I am okay with being disagreed with. I am okay with being devalued based on an opinion. What I don’t want is to not have an opinion. I have to have a voice.

art, introspection, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized, Watercolor

The Observation Deck

My open mind
Is not a place to write on
You can find
Another ear to hum on
I do not marry
To one line of thinking
Yet you see me
With some kind of lacking
I am a watcher
Not made as a preacher
The only lecture
Is through life as a teacher
Though I listen
And am so eager to hear
I feed discussion
Not forcing answers from fear
My open mind
Is not a place to write on
I am no kind
To come for a sermon
I only ask
Because I want to explore
If your mind could open
I could ask you for more

art, introspection, philosophy, spirituality, Uncategorized


I am
And then I immediately am not
I am everything I can be
I am, a possibility

art, introspection, Uncategorized


I am a paradigm
Broken from static
My light cracks like a prism
And is broken from my labored sleep
I let myself be liminal
I let myself arrive
Swift synthetic release
My authentic peace
I am on
And compelled with myself
Slipping coats and facades
I am clear like water
I am the steel iron in a straight silver pipe
I am the place I am always trying to be

art, introspection, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized, Watercolor

“The Process” Live Prose

How am I supposed to feel? Where should I be at this age? What can bring me fulfillment? Achievement gives me fulfillment. Respect. . . and being a part of a community. I find making other people happy fulfilling. I like being appreciated. I like feeling valuable to others. I want to be special. I like to express my “special” ness. How? How can I let people know what’s going on in here?

I have been given inspiration by others. Musicians make me feel things. My heart beats when I feel it. My senses light up a little and I get high. I feel a tiny piece of how alive they must feel when they hear their own voice and expression cutting out into the world. I want to make my cut. I want to cut open my own hard shell and let myself out. I feel so dormant and faded.

What would I ever do if I lost that part of myself? If I have ever dreaded something, I dread forgetting how to feel.

I feel angry.
I feel tingling on my skin.
I want to punch something.
But I also want to lay down and dream.
I want people to see who I am
. . . but that doesn’t make sense because I’m so private.

I want to create meaning.

Creativity and expression give me something to live for. Why do I feel so drugged about sharing myself though. Do I have anything to give? What difference can I make? I want to make an impact somehow.

. . . but even as I’m saying this I feel tired. I feel like I can’t. I feel damp.

How do I put myself in inspiration’s way? How do I make good on life’s promise? Is the question the destination? Is this process the art?

I believe in the process.

I’ve always loved the phrase, “Where do I go from here?” How do I translate what it means to exist as me into a hearable, manifestable expression? Is anyone listening to hear? Or do I just need to do it, so I can hear my own voice?