EVERYONE we meet has an impact on us

the longer we spend with them the bigger the impact

sometimes the impact is seen

in the way we do things

in the way we see things

in the way we think about ourselves

the impact is real

it may or may not

be tangible

like a bite mark


a realization that people are different and that’s ok

what IS important

we allow the good

control the bad

the impact we leave on others is good

never forget that why we are who we are


is the sum of our experiences with others.


show gratitude for this


not poetry

it is not poetry
there is no rhyme
there is no prose
it is the ejaculation of words to paper
overflowing emotion from too much stimulation
shooting out at anyone that reads them
leaving its mark
until wiped clean
from their memory

spilling emotion

poetry fills my mind and I can’t get it out
i find words once written

now hidden

bubbling to the top
erupting like a volcano
spilling over the sides of my mind, exposing the
mass underneath

shooting out chunks of me in
emotional bombs to the unexpecting

all my emotional control out the door thrown aside
to let the emotion finally be free

the inner boy at 1 am

The glow of the city over the roof tops
A solitary street light shining down
The sound of random cars off in the distance
The rustle of leaves as the breeze blows through

It is 1AM and there is quiet
Except for the mind within
Thoughts rush by faster than light
The noise of the inner boy deafening

The day will soon be upon us
The world in full swing
New challenges face the outer man
While the inner boy claws to get out

To walk barefoot in the woods
To drink right from the bottle
To laugh at misspoken words
To be the boy on the outside

The world cannot see the boy within
Expects the outer man
Yet through those eyes he peers
In wonder at all around him

He returns to his home
Halting at the door
Leaving the man without
Entering as only the boy

To enjoy what he has
To find peace in his fort
To finally be free of the shell
To just be the little boy within

clearing fog

The morning fog of the brain
Slowly rolls away
As the tickle of stimulants climb
Up through the spine
Into that sweet spot in the back of your brain
And suddenly you are awash with clarity and focus

Now nothing seems impossible

A lifetime of words

I have written a lifetime of words in my journals, paper and electronic. As I pull from these to write down the words onto this site, I hope the readers will be patient in my prose. It will never be elegant or pretty. It will be real. From the start of a 12 year old boy that is now a man. It will be happy, sad, nice, angry, sensual, sexual, mean, and loving. It is the course of a lifetime of words.

Eating Pie

Staring down at the pie below me I wonder how to begin
Should there be nibbling first
Should I savor it with my lips lightly drawing in the flavor
Perhaps tease the outside with my tongue
Then on to the oh so important inner parts
Drawing out the experience as long as I can
Before my teeth slowly bite down
My lips ensuring nothing escapes
My tongue working to capture all that it can
And when I’m done using my hand to wipe what juices could escape from my chin
How I do so love pie, regardless of apple, cherry, or any other for that fact