insanely courageous; beautifully brave.

living takes courage. i never knew what courage was until i got on that plane, went to the other side of the world.  perhaps i always had it.  but i never felt it.  never embraced the self confidence to admit it; to revel in it.  that was five years ago. i’ve been cultivating courage ever…

happy continuance into 2015.

and here we are New Year. bright beginnings fill the air, magical ambitions dance everywhere. there’s an innocence restored to our perspective on this life for we don’t know where we are going only from where we came.  our hearts are already growing for we are no longer the same.  we resolve to change this…

be bold.

i read something today that pushed me against a wall.  that raw reality that i have lost my interest in writing.  well not so much lost interest but stopped making time for it.  too busy scribbling everything but my own thoughts.  i’ve been thinking lots … just not writing.  not at all. until now. the…

conversation #092414

i will find you deep inside of me hard and firm galore penetrating my hallow heart as i scream reluctantly for more

quarrel with yourself … but don’t fall out of love with yourself.

self-love. tis a precious sentiment, a fleeting emotion, that quite often gets lost in the static confusion of every day meanderings.  so very easily confined by convention we tire easily for by the end of the day we are spent; our heart, mind and body given to our children, our partner, our work, and our…

i don’t have a …

i don’t have a fear of falling …. just a fear of landing. free birds are meant to soar.

retrenched retrospect.

my heart is exhausted. my ambition lagging behind. but to reignite thy imagination for i am near the finish line. ————- if you read my words what voice do you hear? illiterate emotions disposed. it wouldn’t matter what spoken word you heard. for happiness i cannot spell. ————– i sing the tune even though i…

a repository of aged dreams.

a repository of aged dreams (banked memories); nostalgic files of yesteryear scattered across the mind. but its while searching for that lost feeling, the shadowed face of the girl left behind that i realize it wasn’t you or your heart missing … rather it was me who i had to find.

“the structure …

“the structure of a play is always the story of how the birds came home to roost.” -arthur miller, playwright as i always say even free birds need to come home to nest. who needs structure anyway … get out there and play.

old fashion charm is the way to get into this girl’s pants.

i must disclose that i’ve become addicted to the crass charm and unapologetic honesty of the thought catalog, an experimental digital magazine out of williamsburg, brooklyn that aspires to “shape culture by empowering writers to share their ideas and stories with the world.”  that’s the kind of platform i want to shout my words from….