Posted in artsy stuff, community, creativity, crowdfunding, dreams, gratitude, life, poetry, storage, writing

1/15: The Rain

[I still need some help to finish getting storage caught up before the end of the month. I have a second larger financial commitment to also cover, as well as smaller bills. Any help, sharing included,is greatly appreciated.]


Rain washes the dirt away.
Sending it below the city.
Streaks of grime mar
The sides of buildings.
Along the mortar
Between the bricks.

Drops hit my face.
Flatten my hair.
The rain soaks through one layer.
Two layers
Gets to my skin and
Makes me cold.

Others run to stay dry.
I stand in the open.
Unconcerned of image.
I know I will not
From the rain.
I’m a good witch.

The clouds pass above me.
A brief glimpse of what
Is beyond.
Light and dark.
Rule the blackness beyond.
As the stars tell their stories.


Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, community, conformity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, empath life, gratitude, life, poetry, storage, writing

1/14: The Void (#poetry)

(Still need some help to finish catching up on storage. As I have to save up for other things as well. Any help/sharing is appreciated.)

Standing in the middle.
Never enough.
Sometimes too much.

Where do I sit?
When the table is full.
And no one sees me.

The outcast who sees more.
More than the box.
More than the road ahead.

I am not the help.
But I am also not the boss.
I am in the middle.

Waiting to be seen.
When those who matter
Look up from their meal.

The emptiness of space
Separates me from them.
I cannot hear their words.

The vacuum silences the critic.
It also silences the muse.
Space envelopes the vacuum.

Scream into the void.
Yet I hear nothing in return.
Not even my own voice.

I see them at the table.
All the same. All puppets.
The strings tangled together.

The puppeteer enveloped by the void.
Unseen but there.
The puppets think they have control.

I hold my own strings.
No one owns me.
No one controls me.

The table remains full.
I wish to sit, but
Not to be controlled.

I remain in the middle.
Holding my own strings.
Outside the box.

Posted in creativity, dreams, poetry, writing

1/9: #POETRY: Bones and Leaves

Leaves scattered
The courtyard becomes
A ghost town.

Bones of wood
And canvas
Broken in violence.

Tendons of string
Wrapping around trees
Tangled in the bark.

Crumpled pieces
Tumbleweeds of war.
Move with the breeze.

Leaves pile upon
Protect each other.

Curled edges darken
Ink blends into nothing.
Become ash.

Burnt words fade
No longer coherent.
Knowledge turned to dust.


Posted in anxiety, auction, community, cosplay, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, friends, homelessness, housing, life, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

1/2/19: Waiting (#poetry and #crowdfunding)

Still #crowdfunding. I’m just gonna keep going. Hoping that by Saturday, I’ll be able to go and get my mattress and some things out of there after it’s saved. It’s at Central Self Storage here in Portland. All I want is this chance to get some normalcy back. I have my costumes and everything in there.


Broken lines of light come to me over the water below
The bridge under my feet is cold and slick from the winter rain.
The moon betrays me to the night sky.
I stand over the water.

In my dream I felt this night.
I saw the moon over me, the rigid steel of the bridge around me.
The ripplies of water disturb the lights of the city beyond.
I saw this night.
I felt it.
Yet, he is nowhere.

In this dream, he stands in this place.
On this bridge.
Silence only broken by the water below, hitting the supports.
He stands here.
Why, I do not know.
So, I wait.

My impatience overtakes my desire.
The bells in the distance tell me midnight is here.
Yet I am still alone.
On the bridge.

Pacing, hoping he will show.
I fumble to make sure it is safe in my pocket.
Staring into the deep black water.
And I wait.
He never comes.

~APA 2007 (I have no clue where this came from, but it’s one of mine. *shrugs*)

Posted in auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, faith, Personal, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

1/2/19: The Path Taken #poetry & #crowdfunding

Crowdfunding: Still sitting at $235 with $1232 needed on top of that. Any sharing/boosting is absolutely encouraged and welcomed. I can’t afford to replace the things that are replaceable. Many things in there are not. Regaining access to my belongings in storage means I’ll have my mattress to sleep on again and other furniture and things that will help make rebuilding my life just that much easier. Not totally smooth, but a bit better. PP is the only way to go (I have a PP debit card so I can access it immediately). Thank you.

This poem is also an older one. Again, not sure how old. I have several cheap comp books that I buy several of at a time. Most get used for poetry and then get lost and, years later, found again.

The Path Taken

The shiny things.
We smile and say
“I’m fine.”
As we tear ourselves

The path taken.
The cliff we stand on.
How close some get.
While others take that step.
The path of darkness
Luring us deeper into
The Abyss.
The vines grab hold
Not wanting us to leave.

Fight to break free
The vines constrict us.
Pull us deeper.
Silence us.
We struggle to break free.
Some win.
Some don’t.
Others remain in limbo.
Until one side wins.

The cliff beckons.
The path calls to us.
The sirens sing.
Come… live with us.
Stay here.

The path taken.
The Dark or the Light.


Posted in auction, bugaboos, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, empath life, life, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

1/2/19: Disheveled (old poetry & #crowdfunding)

[If you like my poetry from any segment of my life, please feel free to donate to help me rekindle my inspiration that’s stuck in storage and will get auctioned off in a little over 24 hours from now. I’ll be at work when auction happens, so I’d rather get it done today.]

I have $235. Called them and got the total damage: $1467. Before noon tomorrow. I’d prefer to get it done before 6 today as I’m working tomorrow. If I don’t get it today and do before auction tomorrow, I can take an early lunch and get up there. Thankfully both work AND storage are close to me, so it’s a short streetcar ride.

The following poem has no date. I just know that it’s likely at least 10 years old, if not closer to 15. I got into a bad habit of not putting dates on my poems. And yet, oddly enough, I feel very similar after living in the shelter for 7 months.

Life Disheveled.
Scattered seeds of my soul
The four corners hoard my seeds.
I have no more to give.
Silo of my soul is
No more to hand out.

Life disbelieving.
See the world
Smothering me.

Out. I want out.
Scream but
No one hears.
No one listens.
They’re too busy
Listening to themselves
Chatter inanity.

Stand in place.
Invisible to all.
Except those who
Mattering only to them.

No way.
No more.
I am done.

Posted in activism, anxiety, auction, bigotry, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, empath life, faith, family, friends, history, life, observations, peace, poetry, politics, society, storage, urgent, writing

1/1/19: Wars Within #poetry #crowdfunding

[Tossing some old poetry at you while I find my voice for current stuff. Also, CROWDFUNDING HELP!! Any ideas for how to spread the word would be AWESOME. I’m running out of time. As in less than 48 hours until auction.]

Wars Within

A brief yet continuing lifetime.
Adventures begun
Some yet to finish.
Close to home, then far off.

People change.
Some lives borne of turmoil while others seek out harm.
Battles internal
Spill external.

War raging in the world surrounding.
Miles away in others’ neighborhoods.
Peace flounders, gasping for air.
Among hearts blackening.

Thousands of miles I’ve walked
Still my heart is grey.
I’ll walk millions more
Until peace finds my heart and soul.

~A (2001)

Posted in community, creativity, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, history, individuality, poetry, society, urgent

2019 Prayer/Blessing

(I will be speaking this as I light a small tea light in my salt bowl. The bowl is used to amplify the words spoken. Feel free to use this yourself.)

May those who seek peace
Find it within.

May those who find themselves lost
Make their way home.

May those who have been broken down
Build themselves back up.

May those who are untroubled by life.
Learn to be uncomfortable.

May those who are uncomfortable
Finally know comfort.

May those who have no roof over them
Find permanent shelter.

May those who seek safety
Be wrapped in love and warmth.

May those who do harm
Learn to feel empathy.

May those who remain in the dark
Come into the light.

May those who seek forgiveness
Find it in themselves.

May those whose voice has been silenced
Once again stand tall.

May those who bring anger and hate
Learn compassion.

May those who seek equality
Bring balance to the world.

May our past and our present
Bring us timely knowledge.

May blessings from all
Bring light into the new year.


[If you like this and want to help me out, I am in need of keeping my belongings in storage from auction. I can now remove a lot of it and use it again. Time is running out.]

Posted in activism, artsy stuff, cats, community, crowdfunding, observations, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

12/30: Not Quite Utopia (#poetry)

Felines peaceful
Guardians of the Windowsill
Watching over all they can see.

Even if we lived the Utopian Dream.
With no war or hate.
One where all people smiled.

No one lived in Fear.
A pure state with no Greed or Corruption.
No dictators Drunk on their own

Perceived Power.
We would still have cats hell-bent on knocking things over
And chasing each other at 3am.

~APA 2001

(Written in 2001, but still accurate AF)

[Still seeking help for storage. There may be something in the works, but I don’t know how much it’ll be. Spread the word.]

Posted in artsy stuff, auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, emergency, faith, family, friends, life, peace, poetry, storage, urgent, writing

12/29: Imagine (#poetry)

No judgment.
No rules.
No guidance.

Paint splatters across the table.
Words scribbled on napkins.
Photos tacked to the wall.

Brush strokes follow imaginary lines
Familiar only to one
Who dreams in shapes.

The pen breathes life into scribblings.
Words form stories.
Imaginary worlds form.

A glimpse of the world.
Caught in black and white.
Imagination unfurling.

No rules. Create what you see.
No guidance. Life is relative.
No judgment. Begin where you are.

(If you appreciate my poetry and other posts, feel free to donate to help me finally get my storage accessible and have furniture again. Then I can create MORE!)