The Silent Claim

Isn’t it considered?

the backlash,

the nerve pain,

the silent claim,

to these unorganized messages,

these thoughts,

but you can’t see them without…

emotional support,

mental acuity,

physical restraint?



that claim disappoints,

blackens quality meat,

impacts the meal,

gracious or not,

in parliament,

an unending silence,

cut by a smell,

a charred, burnt scent,

minute manifestation,

that silent claim.


The Memory

Nostalgia…is the memory of pain,


It’s a remembrance in sorrows wept,


of senses savaged and humanity spent,


in my feelings depth,


with my salvaged strength,


I recall the days of old,


among lists of untitled documents,


sorted and filed mentally,


a well to another dimension,


pouring out aged contents,


dampening psychic levees,


life setting them along,


what was already had,


perspective left glaring…


in the limelight,


or is it moonlit?

Sometimes speaking is the only thing you can do…

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” – Edgar Allan Poe

I guess it took yet another rough summer to have me back at square one, my favorite place in the world.

No, really.

Blessings be, I still have family to stop the bleeding and keep me afloat.

I’ve also moved a few times since I last wrote.

Isolation, in a number of modes, has been my primary coping mechanism.

However, the life of a modern day hermit has more cons than pros.

Especially for a talker like myself.

With the loss of my previous job and the start of a new one, thoughts stick to what lasts and what doesn’t.

I desire more of the former.

Therapeutically, I have always writing a refuge; conversely, I did not want to waste my words.

Regardless of such reluctance, it would be an increasing waste not to try.

So I’m trying, whatever the result may produce.

Bye for now, KS.


The Universe,

it has him begging for scraps,

digital consciousness,

everyone has an opinion,

as he keeps score,

like what you think matters!

it doesn’t,

what you do does,

the World tallies action as merit,

the rest goes unscored,

Scorekeeper, stop.

you’re missing out,

as that chalk goes to the chalkboard,

numerical expressions,

guilt in arbitrary form,

adding it up,

like an equation that holds meaning,

Scorekeeper, drop.

drop that stick of chalk,

and look,

see what’s around you,

make a choice,

take a stand,

change the narrative….

of your life,

Scorekeeper, live.


The True Story Will Surface

“You have a brain in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.” – Dr. Seuss

As always, I find myself struggling with the nature of my own existence. What’s different is how many around me actually care – I know how Peter felt after crying wolf so many times. It’s just me now….and I still have to do it.

I am who I am and the key to everything is to accept who I am,  fully and honestly. Yeah, I lied to myself too!

That’s why I say whatever is on my mind without caring for the repercussions because I don’t have time. My clock went to zero a long time ago.

I also hold anxiety when it comes to being and remaining single. Unlike other heterosexual males, I see little to no merit in it.

I simply don’t.

At my age, I’m in a peculiar place and I don’t think any one thing will help change where I’m at.

I hear, “just do this, just do that….you have to start somewhere.”

My trepidation is palpable.

I find that the closer you get to people, the more truth matters; you can’t lie about who you are or what you’ve done because eventually, the true story will surface.

Believe me, it always surfaces.

So it matters to be whoever you truly are, while you have the opportunity to be.

The only reason I know I still have one is that I’m here, taking breaths, and so irritated by discontent that I need to do better.

It burns white-hot in me.

Because I don’t who could accept this….

Bye for now, KS.