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Aqua – Auga – H2Ohhhhhh

Water, be it fresh, frozen, or falling molecules, is easily one of the most peaceful things life contains. At least to me. Rivers give me a buzz, lakes keep me pensive, oceans make me feel free. Snow looks like love, and icicles look like beautiful reminders of tragedy. Strange how a few chemistry components can create so many emotions. Knowing all this, I tend to write near and about water quite frequently. Maybe this has to do with being from the land of 10,000 lakes, maybe it’s just cause water is life. Either way, here’s a poem about water I wrote sitting near the Mississippi river. Enjoy!


River’s risen,

The tides are high again.

Moving faster,

In spite of fishes fighting.

Night out, night in,

The water is building.

Inches upon inches,

It’s hard to keep swimming.

Fishes keep nibbling,

Biting insistent.

Quit hooking bait,

Not what I want from the lake.

Fully acquainted with,

The effort that takes.

Rather soak up the rays,

And wade in place.

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Back in Denver

Took a trip to Denver in March 2014-After months of come-and-go writers block, traveling forced me to tap back into wordplay as a therapy tool. Was in an unfamiliar place with news that felt catastrophic, had to fall back on an old crutch. Thankful for this trip, and this piece because it freed that trapped feeling my mind was stuck in. Been easier to write since. This is what I wrote that day:


Staring at these mountains. These fucking mountains. Snow-capped scaling the skyline. This place isn’t nearly as cold as home. Frostbite doesn’t seem to be a serious death threat here. Sure, it’s breezy enough to remind true mid-westerners of Chicago, the nations true windy city. There’s a huge difference though. The air here smells pure. Even if it is littered with pot smoke. My sense of smell made its first appearance since joining the cigarette-smokers club back in ’07. The scents were too much to handle at first, they made my stomach turn and nose sniffle like some coke junkie. Only took a few days to grow accustom to tasting through smell. Really enjoying it at this point. Alas, I’m preparing to fly back to Minnesota today. Trying to find my bearings first. Learned of her pregnancy yesterday. Boy, was that difficult to hear. Brought up that old friend drenched in negative self-talk again. Hadn’t missed that friend a bit. My mind just couldn’t take it. Still, I don’t want to accept it as reality. That should be MY family. That’s what WE always discussed. I was supposed to raise children with HER. That was supposed to be MY future. Now some stranger is walking in my lightly worn shoes. He’ll teach my should-have-been son or daughter how to play catch. He’ll teach them proper manners. Most importantly, he’ll teach them how to respect women, starting with their mother.

Figures that she’d find Mr. Right, right after me. Seems to be the case with most previous lovers. They go through this period with me, one that is apparently eye-opening enough for them to finally move on to desire true happiness. They go on and find it with someone else. To be fair, these relationships (really, who are we kidding, affairs) tend to start while the counter-parts are in the midst of their worst dating cycle. They find me when they’re dating abusive men, slamming drinks for self-respect, or dangling on the edge of suicide. Maybe I’ve done the world some justice, providing women this bridge, even if it’s an unsteady one, to allow them to cross their war-torn commitment driven worlds onto the promised land. That’s how I look at it when I don’t want guilt to eat me alive. Everyone, including karma, knows that’s just a crock of shit. Women take this journey with me and grow so frustrated trying to understand what the hell is wrong that they find themselves. Still doing the world some justice? Maybe. Doing myself justice? No.

Maybe it’s time to build a new future. My previous one has been invested into someone else, every single time. This time may hurt the most. This may be the last time it needs to happen for me to learn. Think I’m ready to go home.

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Reflective Sunday Update

Some more current pieces on my general state of mind and introspective understanding of life. These were all written in the past two months. Enjoy.


(Written 2-25-2014)

The definition of irony may be attempting to cure your social anxiety inĀ  by sitting smack dab in a sea of strangers. Been at this strange little battle for about 30 days now. Out of all the intense inner struggles I’ve been through, this one is a bizarre first. Living life through a decade of deep, engulfing depression and anxiety problems you’d think the eyeballs and judgments would have already caused some type of irrational fear. You my friend, would be wrong.

Maybe now I’m peering too deeply, terrified everyone else is doing the same. The close we become to someone the more we’re forced to open up and share. Even acquaintances on some level. It feels like we know each others stories without explanation or question.

School has always been a fun and fulfilling social experience. Loved the first day of classes. Finding new people to learn from and communicate with was exciting every semester. That plus the joy of learning new things has caused me to commit years upon years of my life to chasing a degree for a job I’m most likely not even suited for.

Self-doubt isn’t anything new. We’re old friends. Reflections have been mocking me for longer than they haven’t at this point. It’s the people that have always continued to keep me grounded beyond all the negative internal bouts. The interpersonal relations. The human connection. The social link. Building someone to care for, to build something to care for.

It’s come to a point where I’ve let those few in and I have no trouble keeping it limited to those few. The big problem is it tends to feel they’re increasingly decreasing. Of course this falls into my hands in some regard. Been becoming detached for some time now. Feels I keep cutting circulation to the portion of my brain that desires socialization. So what now?


(Written 2-27-2014)


Who are you kidding?

Only so much distance traveled until you hit another road bump.


How’s your traction?

Seem to be spinning into oblivion, unsure where this loss of control will leave you directed towards.


Ready to steer?

Grip the path, wheel in hand. Floor it to destiny.

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Back-logging cont.

More past poetry about women. Surprised?



Spilled like paint.

Splatter the walls, with thick strokes of thanks.

Tell her that she’s pretty.


Before she forgets me.


Palms are even turning clammy

And I’m perspiring anxiety

So if you look you understand me.

Beads of sweat,

Piled up.

You’re gonna sense my nervousness.

Stop and play it cool, fool.

Gonna get yourself questioned,

Like what are you hiding?

While I’m still searching for the hidden lesson.

Can tell you got several.

Skeletons are piling high,

Willing to discuss ‘em

When you’re loved

Laying ’round, pillow talking between back-rubs.

When you admit it all,

Exposing beyond the built up walls you guard.

Takes a lot to trust,

Both keeping suspicions up.

But truthfully, you can use me.

Please abuse me, ruthlessly.

And your beauty, contains the answers.

Forces me to fumble flawless grammar.

Glamor in your goals,

Somehow back by morals

Your hair twirls,

Shaping your curls

Stringing strands through your fingers.

Your exit always seems to,

Leave this trace of you that lingers.

So now you got me walking busy streets,


Listening completely

Hoping your voice, will be the one to greet me.

Face it, we both know

Quiet remains the evening.

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Back-logging posts continued

Things behind the scene for the book are finally coming to culmination. Until I can release any news about it, here are once again some older, random writings from the past. These will be popping up in the next few days. Enjoy.


Too drunk to deny you.

Too in denial to stay sober.

You and I, we lie through

The night ’til it’s over.


Shut off our brains,

So we’re guided by passion.

Taking precautions,

Our results could be tragic.


We pretend it don’t matter.

We sway forth and backwards,

Spilling guts on my mattress

Is always what happens.

What you’ve been given is lacking,

Common sense plus a habit.


You’re trying, move past it.

I’ll wait, clean up after.

Cause you think you don’t matter.

Clearly you don’t see my, tattered heart

Gifted to you on a platter.

Simply pieces scattered.

Don’t matter.


We’re now swaying backwards.

You’re flattered.

Hopeful yet shattered.

So you keep moving backwards,

Then profess on my mattress

That it matters, we can’t just

Start penning new chapters


We keep moving backwards,

But I keep moving past that.

Leaving me confused after,

Those nights up with you on my mattress.

You tell me it matters,

So I keep moving past that.


We can continue on backwards,

Or live like it matters.

Just keep lying to and with me,

On my mattress.

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Take a Step Back.

Here’s another random excerpt.
Written during vacation in Key West. Slightly important note for the subject matter.

Life gets busy.
Is that an excuse or is that just a product of our routine? As a society we’ve become so attached to the things meant to simplify life and the tasks it hands us.
Smart phones.
GPS navigation systems.
Anything pumped out of the Apple corporation.
Each product or service meant as quick fixes to basic problems. Ones we ourselves have created and perpetuated.

How many times has the misplacement of your cell phone nearly induced a panic attack?

People sustained years ago before cell phones and smart technology, so why have we so deeply embedded it into life?

It’s funny. Perhaps ironic. Every time I escape the dastardly throws of 4G and WiFi true solace arrives. None of the silly noise, none of commands, none of the disturances. No notifications, no timeline, no digital connect. Just pure and utter silence. Bliss. Frozen moments. The break allows your mind to work alone and enter overdrive, suddenly accepting and noticing the details of your surroundings.

It’s a basic concept.
Dis-connect, and you’ll connect more.
Pretty simple right?

Quick question, how many windows are in your house? Only 16% of people can give an accurate answer without double checking.

Okay, okay, so that statistic is complete bullshit. But really, think about it. Do you have any idea without going room to room to count? Honestly, I don’t.

So the computers, the phones, the people, the drama, the distractions, and the unnecessary can go to hell. Put them on the back burner once in a while and take in what life has been trying to offer you. You’ll be much happier with your newfound ways of understanding things.

If you’re not on alert (not drug-addled methed out alert, but merely mentally checked into the present) you’re going to miss quite a lot. Things like karma can’t be grasped without living in the now and reflecting on the then.

There just simply isn’t enough time to ignore what life hands you. Make due. Do your best to accept and not force change. You can’t control the world but once you can be aware of that, that’s when you can truly make a difference.

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Don’t Change a Thing

As promised, this post is the beginning of some older writings. Dug through mostly filled notebooks, some old, some new. Some of these excerpts are from 2014, 2013, and on, all the way back to 2008.

These were written to women, for women, about women, or about life and stuggle. My topics don’t vary much as you’ll see. Some written in the style of an open form letter, some written as poetry, some scribbled nonsense.

Love, pain, heartbreak, self-doubt and depression tend to be the reoccurring themes. Sometimes I’ve tried to capture happier moments but they don’t seem to verbally flow as well.

Won’t give a set up for any of these writings because they’re personal and usually include someone else, but if you’re reading these thinking “Hey, that sounds like me/our time together” you’re probably right.

Thanks for giving me something to write about. Enjoy.

Don’t change a thing for me babe, I ain’t worth it.
You’ve got things about you that makes it nearly impossible to leave, yet there’s portions I can’t stand.
There’s an unbalance.
Little stability, we could fall.

Time to sit and relax. Waiting here watching time pass us by is slowly killing me.
Won’t create empty promises.
Won’t pretend the time you’re taking isn’t driving me crazy.
Probably best to leave. Foolish to think you weighing the choices this heavily will alleviate any pressure.
Girl, you’re weighing me down.

No, don’t change a thing for me babe, I ain’t worth it.
Time’s changed enough for the both of us.


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