December 31, 2025

one year ago i was so apprehensive
of the impending twenty twenty five

i wept the day of the eve
fearing the worst
not even letting myself hope for the best,
the best i could hope for
was survival

and i did survive this horrid year
[and had some lovely adventures
within it]

but i can’t close out this year without acknowledging
the lives lost
and livelihoods/health/sanity thrown away
due to the ultimate greed of
just a few
just a few
who make decisions
for the many
the many who
they don’t even care about

ceos
and presidents
and random fuckbags who like to set social media sites
on fire
for fun
should not have the choke-hold they do
on our society

and while i can complain
and condemn

i do not want to be like them

so instead i’ll say:
human beings matter
and deserve fair treatment
from the immigrant
to the trans child
to any person with darker skin than the congressional average —
being white
or male
or christian
or rich
or cis
does not make anyone better or more adept to make decisions for the rest;
for human beings contain multitudes
and each human knows what’s best for themselves
but not
for others
and i truly believe
if left to our own devices
and to our own community-based natures
we’d err on the side of righteousness
and kindness
so, even though twenty twenty six
may be filled with the same
cult leaders
and snake oil salesmen
and fearmongers
and dictators,
let us band together
in our local communities
to show each other
we care

[and we have the power
to say no
to white supremacist
racist
transphobic
bigoted
propaganda
disguised as
nationalistic
“history”

we can know
our own
true history
and we can work together
to make the future
so much better
than any of these old
unimaginative
dinosaurs
know what to do with]

[here’s to a wonderful
and kind
and free
2026]

February 21, 2023

the concept of community scares me

and i know the ancestors of this land
would balk
at that self-assessment

but i bet white supremacy would smile

feeling/being only beholden to oneself
makes for
either
one great bootstraps story
or
one of many that the upper-crust doesn’t have to deal with
other than as
stepping stones

but i was born and raised in this society
that values individuality above all else
and insists that, even within social standing
that place is precarious at best
(imagine entire books/movies/tv episodes
about a whole friend group
turning against you
for no reason other than
they can)
so to be solidly a part of a posse
you should be the one holding
all the power

that isn’t sustainable
that isn’t healthy
that isn’t the way humanity should be

but

i’ve lived it

multiple times

so please, caretakers of turtle island
i feel whispering in my flailing mind
from time to time,
forgive me as i resist the concept of community
and rely on only myself
and my spouse
for literally everything–
i’m only doing what i was taught
for the first 30 or so years of my life
and experienced from others
taught the same way…

my heart is vulnerable
but quite willing
to learn

February 12, 2023

a puppy
eating ice cream
and then the whole container

what a treat

~~~

sometimes i worry
that i’m wasting my writing talents
on publishing in a blog

but then i am reminded
of folks who may have thought
i wasted my acting talents
on community theatre

and who is wasting
and who is benefiting
in either of those situations?

is it simply
elitist?
classist?
or simply the whole vibe of white supremacist culture
to give some places
more standing
than others?

i suppose what i’m saying is
tho i wish more folks would read my words
and i saw more accolades and admissions of quality
(moreso for my own validation/vindication/curiosity)
i’ll continue to place it
here
for anyone to come across it
who may want or need it
(including me)

~~~

late night writing
(ok
again
not really that late)
toasty fireplace
cozy tea
coffee ready to be placed in the fridge
for tomorrow morning
when i’ll write all over again

December 4, 2022

how
can i constantly feel
like a novice
in all i do?

i’ve performed all my life,
but i still feel second/
third/
fourth/fifth/sixth/
end of the line
when it comes to opportunities
for the stage/screen arts.

i’ve had six plus years in the air,
but i’m a perpetual student
here.

i’ve written
every
single
morning
poetry
for over a year and a half,
but i’m still too scared to submit,
to hear the possibility
that i’ll forever be
amateur;
living only for the love of words,
never ‘going anywhere’ with it.

and what’s so bad about that?

capitalism/colonialism/white supremacy
forces our minds to find some meaning
out of what we can produce/expert the field
in a way that makes money—
churn out content/
content/
you need to create more content…

where is the place for creating for the sake of creativity?

and why can’t i find my own balance?

i think
it’s because
i just want to feel
like i know
something.
i want to feel adept/
professional/
expert/
master/
ace/
like i don’t have to second guess every choice i make—

that’s what i want out of my crafts.

May 3, 2022

it is
very
hard to concentrate this morning

and i don’t know if it’s from
the stress of last night
or
the vividness of the dreams
or
the sadness of this morning
or
the lack of coffee in my bloodstream
or what

but

it is
very
extremely
extraordinarily
bizarrely
quite
hard to concentrate this morning.

~~~

i feel like i’m getting a better handle
on what makes my poetry
my poetry

(but i really have
absolutely
no idea
still
about what makes any poetry
‘good poetry’)

~~~

i would like to write
another
slam poem;
start a flow
and just go,
balance out the rhythm and rhyme
with internal structure,
alliteration,
and find
the transitions,
the cues,
from one section
to anther,
playing with words
and meaning
and framing
the repeating
as metaphor
as a tool
as a lock to turn the key
and find out something new
about me,
about life,
about our home planet earth,
and our collective strife
to stay alive
when all we want
is eternal sleep
(not necessarily because
death is the answer we’re looking for,
but because all these
isms
and power structures
and so-ingrained made up concepts
keep us so wide awake
that sleep seems a necessity
we never get to get
[when was the last time you had
an actual
honest to goodness
no stress
very good
night’s sleep?]

so i guess
that’s what this poem’s about:
the collective trauma
that is
white supremacy/capitalism/america
and how the one thing
that could give us
the fight
we need
to dismantle it
is the the thing
it keeps us
from doing
every
single
night.

(and are my daytime naps
my making up
for this lack,
or is that just a symptom
of the depression
my awareness
of these systems
gives me?)
((or is that a subject
for another poem
for another day?))

May 1, 2021

i felt like
two days ago
i was worried it was close to the end of the month
then i found out
it wasn’t even the 20th yet
and today, today it’s the beginning of May
and my sense of time hasn’t been this off
since the beginning of the Global Patrick Stewart
last year
(over a year
ago
now)
and i have to wonder
if my sense of time is off
or if i just looked at the calendar wrong
or if time is a myth
and a mortal construction
and any feelings of ‘shoulds’
within the constraints of
‘time’
are all a product of capitalism
which in itself is a product of white supremacy
and we should be dismantling it all,
right?