Twas Easter Sunday

Twas Easter Sunday


Heart Like A Warm Stone

Heart Like A Warm Stone


My Sixth Sense

I see ghosts,

see ghosts everywhere,

I read,

to rationalize them away,

seek knowledge,

in order to,

suppress their ends,

or is it my own ends?

specters of the past,

to mete out a future,

coated in glass,

defined by fastidiousness,

step through shades,

like being bathed in sunlight,


indicative of a man,

to walk not run,

to fight not hide,

to understand what’s really going on,

I lit a candle,

filled this space with light,

made a bargain,

after losing a bet,

I’ll make the best of these nine lives,

postures don’t suit,

neither does regret,

even though the aforementioned adds difficulty,

my soul is truer knowing,

a modicum of peace,

peace of mind,

is best.


“What do you ca…

“What do you care about deeply? What would you dedicate your life to if you could? What would you die for? What we feel strongest about, what we tend to argue, defend, or fight for — all of these are indications of our purpose, our message, and our talent. The things that move us to our core — the things that make us angry, sad, or elated — contain clues to what we’ll find the most joy, fulfillment, and true success expressing in our work.” – Derek Rydall


Building A Bridge…Where are my tools?

“What you want is already here, in the unified field of pure potential. Everything you need to fulfill your greatest desire is already part of your being. But it can’t come out until you align with it, let go of the obstructions to it, and raise your vibration to the level at which it already exists.” – Derek Rydall

I had a wonderful job, one which fell into my lap and showed me who I can be. Subconscious angst and “wearing out my welcome” were the main catalyst which chased me out. Maybe that’s an excuse…I was the one who walked away.

Currently, in a job which draws on a majority of my strengths, all I can think about is the previous one. How do I build a bridge back yet… go forward?

I’ve made enough mistakes to know what I actually want…even if I’m not “ready” for it. Career, relationships (family, friends, and the other), and other factors which add to the quality of my existence. I’m simply too stubborn to make the decision people encourage me to. Make sense?

Earlier today, it was pointed out to me that I smile allot. This may be odd to hear…but I had no idea. At least, it wasn’t how I felt on the interior. The pain of lamenting a dream had taken over. Every action, every emotion, I struggled with.

For a guy who wasn’t sure of himself as a man, I’ve done alright, conservatively, but alright. I didn’t have a father there to mold me into a man but I have molded other young men. My God. I am elated and almost shocked at the capacity. Looking behind can help one’s focus at times…

Women. I’m not sure what to say except I owe quite a few apologies. Interest isn’t a problem neither is attention, flirting, or information exchange; it is uncertainty. I’m uncertain how a woman would feel if I actually shared myself, my time, my heart; I’m shaky about letting someone in. Also, I don’t want a woman…I want the woman. Pedestal, ideal, or fantasy, I don’t know if any female could live up to it. To be fair, they should not have to…

I could try to be more realistic about the whole thing. After all, I have no shortage of confidence or ingenuity. However, chances are hard to come by and harder to hold on to. Hold may not be the right word; make the most of an opportune meeting. *Sigh*

I choose to be positive. Mainly because the alternative is not worth my time…nor any more sacrifices. I’m making enough of those already. It’s time to start forgiving.

Candles either burn brightly or given enough time, burn out completely.

Bye for now, KS. 🙂


“Each morning I…

“Each morning I wake up and say to myself, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or … you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or … I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or… I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.” – Unknown


Living Colour – Cult of Personality

And during the few moments that we have left
We wanna talk right down to Earth in a language that everybody here can easily understand

Look in my eyes, what do you see?
The cult of personality
I know your anger, I know your dreams
I’ve been everything you want to be
I’m the cult of personality
Like Mussolini and Kennedy
I’m the cult of personality
The cult of personality
The cult of personality

Neon lights, a Nobel prize
Than the mirror speaks, the reflection lies
You won’t have to follow me
Only you can set me free

I sell the things you need to be
I’m the smiling face on your tv
I’m the cult of personality
I exploit you, still you love me
I tell you one and one makes three
I’m the cult of personality
Like Joseph Stalin and Gandhi
I’m the cult of personality
The cult of personality
The cult of personality

Neon lights, a Nobel prize
When a leader speaks, that leader dies
You won’t have to follow me
Only you can set you free (?)

You gave me fortune
You gave me fame
You gave me power in your god’s name
I’m every person you need to be
I’m the cult of personality (I’m the cult of, I’m the cult of)
I’m the cult of, I’m the cult of, I’m the cult of, I’m the cult of (I’m the cult of)
I’m the cult of, I’m the cult of, I’m the cult of, I’m the cult of personality (I’m the cult of)
Ask not what your country can do for you

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself



Detail and Balance

I pay attention to the details,

but sometimes,


my emotions get the best of me,

and the rest of me,

crossing the pale of midnight,

secret stories,

private pride,

public posturing,

a first impression can change the world,

it can also deceive,

the silent surround,

weary thoughts act as fog,

as the work day presses bone,

vision trickles back,

to where I felt boundless,

maybe to preserve my quintessence,

like an incidental blood stain,

one hard to purge,

yet changes a garment’s shape,

it’ll never be the same!

maybe invalid…

but never the same.

Can I balance the scales?

wrap my arms around thin air,

take the torment away,

mistake miss taken for dementia,

I scan myself,

accept parts unwanted,

rejected perhaps…

the scales lie in the grey,

the middle ground,

where men lay,

women laid,

honesty attains,

that the soul is humbled…

and the sane.


“A poet makes h…

“A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment, where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he becomes all men the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed–and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains the unknown, and if, demented, he finally loses the understanding of his visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen!”
― Arthur Rimbaud