A Morning Notion

Begin in sunlit sky beguiler day
The same result might be impossible.
We wander in mind to discover way
Breathe positivity remarkable.
In life to know in peace delightful air
Think heartfelt, soulful, suggest promotion.
Find fortune inside sweet beautiful fare
Solidify choice inside elation.
What hold will truth create family love
Universals speak in magnetism
Celebrate change demand history hove
Live free live dignified mannerism.
I woke again to fright anxiety
Compassion in winsome allegory

Last Night’s Anxiety


Made up will not suffice.

Perfection is a model for memory

when lost in the shadow of fear.



Remarkable in patterned stealth

tendrils suffocation drawn.



in every waking moment a trapping,

a formidable locksmith might overlook.



Quite assured no response to time

could offer solution, satisfaction.



In time a drowsy eye could tear

enough to drown self-pity.


Wanting to Cry

I wonder sometimes,

how it is we find the passion,

the quiet release of a solid cry,

a rainstorm inside my mind,

the sort that when I imagine,

leaves no shelter beyond that

real tear.

I know that with the anxiety of a climb,

there is adrenaline,

a driving force that brings us quickly

to whatever height, plateau, however distant

our minds will allow ourselves beyond


I know that there is a place where I can stand


feel peace,


Anxiety Rush

I think the day was rather sunny,

at least that I recall,

layered in my own shawl

a travesty of the fall of humanity.


Could we ever move in freedom

if when we blink an eye

there is the question why

should we attempt design a kingdom.


When while a spiritual guide exists

in the hearts and mind

of the many who remind,

when is it that faith insists.


Can you see my eye, the fear I contain,

might reveal my inside

persona I keep beside

me as safely tucked away I can maintain


Some dignity of form I revel in

walk the streets clean

knowing that my machine

has met the standard; a societal win


now a certain grayness overcomes

the temperate nature of mine

a loathsome place I do incline

to share with no one; beat the drums.


When while I wallow in self-pity in frame

here now why would you let me join the game.

Walking With Anxiety

Around the corner, I expect to find you,

when just coming to a stop outside,

I know you’ll be waiting,

when they make eye contact,

what is it this time they’ll decide is

about you.

When I reflect upon how often I have worried


seems the hours of the day really do stretch themselves

an inordinate number of miscues,

that endless supply of

inconvenient truths.

Walk with me and tell me stories,

all the different places, unique moments,

phenomenal realities,

all beyond the scope of my wildest dreams,


I stole away this after meeting my midnight serenade

only to discover the result is always the same,

I cannot get out of my head,

without seeing the shadows,

the fear that exists waiting, wondering, wallowing

in a sea of self-pity.

Walk with me, anxiety,

it is truly a beautiful day,

the sort we could lose away,

in a fit of self-serving worry,




contemplations that always seem to shout out loud,

when we wish only to quiet the storm.

When Sleep Slides By

The mind,

when restful seems

to want nothing more than a simple

gesture of reality.

Yet when faced,

like looking in their eyes,

his eyes,

my I’s

when that moment occurs,

there seems little chance in knowing

how to apprehend the moment of sleep.


I stood against the pushing winds of time,

wondered how far it may bend me over,

backward and sideways,

not knowing which fall might be the easier one,

instead just letting the now breeze,

taunt my body, make me believe

this has all been a gesture,

some reasonable outcome is always,

just not that satisfying.


When eyes are just

aware enough of surrounding


we seem calm

instead while navigating through

the lens of our chosen design,

we then,

well know by now,

the world has harsh realities,

in case, in the event, we forget,

due to lack of sleep

of course.

When Pain Is Real

No longer is a possibility an afterthought

No deeper can our hearts be further fraught

No more, no more,

We cannot circumvent our cursory passion.


When pain is real, oft consequence the lesser

Paralytic feature while truths shield the confessor

The breathing banter

Escapes with certainty, a frightening fashion.


While judgment acts svelte in universal cloak,

The mind, that human anxiety will love evoke

Takes over with a rigor

Unmatched by an innocence lost in decision.


What really happens when a heart is left broken,

Who might define the brevity of such misfortune.