Poem: Ghost

Ghost I have becomean afterthoughtin my own life. Called if needed.Summoned like a daemonto assist their needs. Dismissed as quicklyas the wind. Put back on a dusty shelf,to watch and listenfor another chanceto feel alive. Wondering onlyif I did enough,I drift back to a ready stateand wait for the next call. Thinking that a life… Continue reading Poem: Ghost

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Leave Me Behind

Leave Me Behind I am always here,cheering you onthrough it all,good and bad. Never second guesshow much I love you,or wonder if Istill walk behind you. Be stronger than Orpheus.Resist the urge to look backas you press on. Fly far and fast.Sing free and strong.But leave me behindand know I’ll always be there for you.… Continue reading Leave Me Behind

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The Fallacy of #alllivesmatter and My Cautious Steps Forward to Help

Let me preface this by saying that I am a middle-aged white American male. I was raised in a predominantly white neighborhood. I made my first Black friends in college and afterwards in the workplace. And I know that I might as well be one of the poster children for White privilege. In my heart,… Continue reading The Fallacy of #alllivesmatter and My Cautious Steps Forward to Help

Five Decades

It’s been a long time since I was a fan of celebrating my birthday in any meaningful way. I don’t like the attention or the pressure that comes with it. I would much rather enjoy a quiet day doing the things that I love with the people I love to do them with. This year… Continue reading Five Decades

Poem: Status Quo

Status Quo Broken,the door slamsback and forth with the wind.We’d grown used to the noise.Tuned it out.Refused to see, hear, or acceptits brokenness.Then, a stranger points it out.Can’t you hear that?Doesn’t it bother you?Hear what? we ask,returning to our phones.Status quo. BTF 11-MAY-2020

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Marks

Made of memory,we are but momentswired togetherinto patternsthat make us who we are. Every song we sing,word we write,thing we make,and tale we tellleaves a mark. Those marks are usin that instant,captured for eternityas part of the checkered wholeeverybody sees. Perhapswe should focus moreon leaving markson the worldbefore we go. BTF 1-17-2020

Poem: The Mirror

The Mirror Afraid, I wandermany empty roadsfull of peoplefulfilling lofty goalsand wonderingif my little dreamsstood up. I used to sing.I used to dance.I used to draw.I used to tell stories.But now I stopfor fearthey aren’t good enoughfor the oneswho stop to care. To hell with them all.Create. Create. Create.And let the world seewhat I can… Continue reading Poem: The Mirror