To capture the eyes that adore me back

To experience the breath of your kisses

To envelope myself in your arms

To be in silence with the chorus of rising bellies

To caress the satin that calls my name

To press my urgency to your ear, confessing

To know, understand, you are my mythical being

Inspired by Joel

I’m sure you’ve read some authors that really stick in your craw. Artists of the written word that cause you to think, cause you to get pissed, cause you, most of all, to feel that sense of uncomfortable that comes from a raw, exposed nerve. There are several of these talented people that float through my reader. Some I am avid fans of, others I take out in the dark of the moon and peruse with witchy thoughts abiding because they require, by default a place where the blood of their story can mingle with mine.

Joys of Joel is one of those artists for me. Joel lives in the Philippines. I’ve never met the person, but when I read the words, like those of Shawn L. Bird, E.I. Wong (really funny in a twisted way HAHA!), and UP!:::urban po’E.Tree(s), I am moved to places I’ve visited but, perhaps, took for granted.

In the latest poem (at this writing) by Joys of Joel, they write: Don’t wait for me; Ours is not a love story. (Find it HERE), I am compelled to remember lost loves of my own. I am to take that path rarely traveled. I mean, what’s done is done, right? Or what’s over is completed. But. It reminded me of a poem I wrote a while back which also reflected on a powerful moment in my life when I realized I’d just made a massive mistake. I knew I’d never again see that person though I treasured every moment I spent with them. It was my fault.

I’m re-sharing this “These Are My People” poem because of that line. You can find it here: The End.

Stars in her eyes

Reaching for the stars

Reaching for the stars

When I awakened from the dreamless deep,

I was shocked to realize that my eyes could not see.

I had no way of finding upon which path to set my feet,

because all I’d ever done was walk around in sleep.

But then I found the very stars of which you, longing, write,

and I followed them into the sky; into the sacred night.


It was the moment she burst with the joy of life

Like an orchid blushing rich skinned into petals.

That laugh of hers echoed the room

As if a church organ had piped in Metallica,

Full of power and reverence.

If the delight in her eyes diminished,

So would the clouds bash the sun into submission,

Obscuring the light at her request, but the delight remained. ‘

I remained.

She kept living.


I see you every once in a while in the Otherwhere.
The place that isn’t here or there or somewhere or anywhere.
It’s just Other.

Soul pictures

Soul pictures

It has the pres(c)ents of Christmas trees and home cooked feasts.
It smells of beloved familial hugs, pas-s-s-sionately presented embraces
It laughs a babbling brook of foolish happiness punctuated with excitement marks!!!!
It offers kaleidoscopic shows of  vernacular laced paragraphs with buntings of (these)
Still, sometimes, I know (though I don’t know), I see both you and me.
Not in the way that makes you triple check your doors; throwing the deadbolt
Not in the way that keeps you window to window pacing floors; with naked paranoia
but in the way that allows the meditation of the forest to seep into the spirit of indulging ideas
reaping benefits of beauty as only gypsy tribe of poets can explore it.
I see you every once in a while in the Otherwhere.

(inspired by: )