Alrighty, so this is me challenging myself and practicing different poetry style. So yeah, it’s uh short and sweet, won’t take too much of your time to read.  Enjoy:)



Thought, action,reaction.

Sequence, order, place.

Question, answer, clarity.

Stuck, help,


Help, stuck.

Clarity, answer, question.

Place, order, sequence.

Reaction, action, thought.



Short circuit

Lately there have been several wonderful people on my mind… In less than four years five of my dearest friends passed away. I can not bring myself to say how, or think of why. I know simply that they are gone and that in their wake there is a void I will never be able to fill, nor want do I want to fill it.

Normally I write about things to understand/overcome them, but that seems to me to be compensation for that void. So I haven’t written much about any of them. Which has brought me here, to the point of writing this post. I have forsaken pros, and superfluous story lines for their sake. None of them would have appreciated that form of depiction. But I find myself unable to hold their memory in. I know there are so many people who know exactly how I feel and what I mean. So I must write something. No stories or poems, but a… well I guess its a eulogy of sorts.

They were all unbelievably talented people, all very humble. Each of them closer to me than I thought I would ever let anyone get. And all of them were so young. One a writer who taught me so much about words and their power, who could make stories come alive. One a natural leader and confidante no one could dislike. One a quiet, old soul placed in the state of youth to be the speaker of wisdom among rambunctious comrades. One a self taught musician who could make anything a song, and transpose notes to match any instrument or music style. And one a light of unflappable joy, who could make you laugh and help you heal no matter your mood/emotional wounds.

All them I feel privileged to have known and thankful for the time I got with them. However there are questions that burn me and leave me shuddering when they come to mind. Why them? Why those who would have contributed so much to this world? Why the ones who had a surplus of compassion, creativity and wisdom? Why not those who consciously choose not to contribute? Why not the ones who have yet to learn those things? Why not the ones who never will learn those things?

Those questions I can not answer, the void left behind I can not find words or actions to satiate. The best verbalization I’ve ever come across was from a former mentor of mine. He, roughly, put it like this; when you’re young you’re smart enough to be aware of the connection between all life, you are not, however,  smart enough to know you’re not invincible. You have a sense of self that is unshakeable despite the fact it changes from week to week. You have a sense of life that makes it seem like life will never be over. And you have an electric group of piers, colleagues and friends. When one of you is suddenly gone it is as if a circuit has been irreparably cut. The silence they leave behind is deafening and you are left to question everything that you once believed. But their absence isn’t irreparable, on the contrary in fact, the circuit is sparked into overdrive. You and anyone else who felt the loss are changed. You are forced to grow, gain perspective and you feel as if you must compensate. It’s a circle that appears volatile, but it is actually miraculous and extremely productive.

On that note, there’s not really a reason for this post. I just needed to express something about my personal experience with loss, in short, I say there are people who leave the world behind them darker when they die. Sometimes they’re taken away too soon, sometimes not. Regardless, losing someone close to you is painful. Thankfully they always leave behind something, memories, lessons, joy, wisdom. All I can hope is that I’m not the only one who listens to those pieces that remain. That I’m not the only one who refuses to let those bits fade away. That I’m not the only one who has questions because of it. And that there are others who chose to contribute to our world, be compassionate and creative, learn and grow because of the people they’ve lost.

By Chance, It Never Happened

I look at you
Dying to know
If you, by chance
Do notice my stare.

My emotions laid bare
In the depths of my eyes.

My bravado a flimsy disguise
I yet believe you see past.

But of course you don’t.
My performance is too good.
So good it never happened.
And you will never think to look.

Another quick poem. It’s not great and I don’t particularly like it. I’m posting it for the sake of posting once a week and challenging myself to write more.