If one day you desire to find me, don’t look for me here. Search for me in the quiet space, that place where only you
inside this brown skin is the divine existence of mysterious cosmic forces. i am starseed.
I am not what you see or seek in the mirror. I am me, living inside my skin, carrying blood and bone through time.
Burn with anger, woman. Your fire voice was temporarily extinguished with water, but you did not let it drown you. You turned everything that touched you to steam. The destroyers dissipated into the air, mixed in with the ancestors who lost their way and told un-truths about the place of woman. They now mourn their…
The clouds interlace fingers seeking prayer, an impassioned supplication to the un-gods. They spread across skies gathering stories of un-time, spaces inside cycles that collect
I live inside this skin of flesh, blood and bone. I am fragile life dreaming of infinity. Threads of memories stitch themselves to the stars.
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I sat in the park today, thinking. I didn’t focus on anything in particular. I listened to woodpeckers feverishly pecking away at trees and red
There is fire in the caves. Defiant flames stretch across indocile walls. The cold stones can bear the relentless heat. But can they bear the
Writing Prompt: Newspaper Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Bird cages lined with yesterday’s murders and celebrity gossip keep no secrets.
Writing Prompt: Green Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. i am green on the inside where the grass, shrubs and trees
No one wants to hear that there are days when I feel so afraid that all I want is for the world to end so
Black unpolished marble doors too heavy to swing open. Locked inside dark moments that seek escape from Earthly prisons. We are not free. Black slick
I want to tell you a story. But the words are dangerous and may draw blood. They come sharp, and sometimes come in hollow points.
Writing Prompt: Help Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Giant black garbage bags sat to the left and right of her.
When I look at this culture, I am reminded of The Allegory of the Cave by Plato, written over 2,000 years ago. It is a
My ideas are all I have. This is my wealth. Each new thought frees me from the here that has become my now. I live
water pours into my wanting bones into the spaces between blood and marrow those places that form seed and memory bones buried deep in brown