Under the voodoo palms,

the air hums with secrets—

old magic curling like smoke

around the roots.

Every breeze is a whisper,

every shadow a warning,

every heartbeat a drum

calling something ancient

back to life.

Voodoo p...

Turn your back— not in anger, but in arrival. Some roads don’t deserve your footsteps anymore, and walking away is the loudest truth you’ll ever speak.

There’s fire under the bridge— not the kind that burns it down, but the kind that whispers, “I’m not finished.” Heat in the hush, anger with a pulse, truth that crawls back up your spine and dares you to cross anyway.

They tried to shape my story

from the grain of their own assumptions,

carving silhouettes in dark tones

and calling them truth.

But I am not the shadow they sketched in haste.

I am the warm weight of sun?washed stone,

the steady ...

I see a broken pencil

I have a impulse to fix it

I look at it then start to

see it differently

maybe it's meant to be as it is

if I try to fix it'll change the structure

disturb its condition and existence

I wouldn't be any different

from ...

there was a time when you wanted your voice to be heard all you had to do is scream the noise wasn't as loud as it is now you need more than a bullhorn to speak over a crowd shots fired the world's too tired to run fatigue syndrome no matter how d...

Thank you, for all you do

I haven’t said that nearly enough though, true?

For years, as our time together flew

Daily, you patiently lend me a clue

To help me win, even when I never knew

That you truly deserve the most respect due

I
did not
could not prevail against the gates of hell
knew I wasn't flying the friendly skies
arriving at the heavenly gates
had no defense for it
a tormenting
slow
painful death I suffered in the early hours of the morning
too early
for...

I think about the good times "the good times" there were good times not to say all the good times have passed away life is a song to those who love to sing along history taught me ABC was easy as 123 letters were written in cursive lines love didn...

Be the spark

Not in fire
Not in flame

But in memory
of your name

Let your craft open
gates wide

Let the hidden path
be known

Draw the bridge
Raise the tide

Through the surface
Through the veil

Trace the moment
libate the trail

Where’s your witness…

when the truth sits heavy

and the room grows still?

Who saw the way you carried it,

the weight no one named,

the strength you never claimed aloud?

Sometimes the only witness

is the echo of your own he...

I didn’t fall all at once—

I came apart in quiet ways,

edges softening,

strength slipping grain by grain.

But even in the ruin,

There’s a truth I can’t ignore:

what crumbles

can clear the ground

for something stronger

to...

Pass the passion like sunlight through branches— soft, warm, and meant to be carried.

Let your fire touch another soul, the way a flame kisses wick and suddenly there’s more light than before.

This is how we grow: one inspired heart igniting...

Like a branch shaped by seasons, I curve with the weather of my life— sun?warmed, storm?tested, softened at the edges by time.

I don’t stand rigid against the world; I move with it, letting each challenge carve a gentler strength.

This is ho...

If brothers could sing the blues,

their voices would rise like smoke at dawn—

soft at first, then aching, curling around the truth they never learned to name.

They’d hum the weight of promises broken,

the echo of footsteps leaving, th...

I felt the weight lifting, a shift in the air,

Like color returning where shadows once lived.

A fracture of brightness, a fearless debut —

Hope stepping forward in a shade I once hid.

Call it a comeback, a spark, or a truce —

But so...

My blues have edges like river?worn stone,

Smoothed by the years, carved by the unknown.

But a glint found its way through the cracks in the hue,

A warm little spark in a world colored blue.

It’s the whisper of healing, the start of a ...

There’s a crack in the quiet where the light slips through,

A soft little shimmer in the shade of my blue.

I’ve carried storms in my chest, thunder stitched in my seams,

But today there’s a pause — a breath — a shift in the dream.

It’s...

Cannot fly.” You will always find a way” wake up, for sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

Let things go; for they are too heavy. Let go, tie no weights to your soul.” your fears scare you?

They're there to let you know that there is something...