The Smokey Eye

I think therefore I am

My Dead Poet Society


Spur of the moment poetry. Yes, unfortunately, I am still angsty and I need to get shitty feelings out.

The Wildflower's Ghost

A piece that captures transition. She was a scent, a feeling, a memory I saw her sitting on a bench. A cafe. A garden. Her eyes, sterling grey and lived a thousand life-times I saw her body, stiff but held grace. Held stoic. Held power. She was the type you dont approach. Like a wild rose, you keep your distance. You look. You admire. Today I thought I saw her again But she smiled, with the warmest glow. With magnitude. With fulfillment. She was not the wild rose, but also was. I saw her sitting on a bench. A cafe. A garden. Her eyes glowed amber in the sun, and held innocence. The type you want to take care of. You embrace. You preserve. She came up to me and I saw the wild rose in her. But I soon realized she was gone. Yet lingered. Yet a ghost.

Are You my Mother

A piece for Wendy who has been a second mother. And my dean, who helped bring me back from the brink of giving up more than once on my dental journey. Are you my Mother? You brush my hair, Tame my emotions that flare, You adorn me in jewels Just for me to meet the suitor Fools. No. Are you my Mother? You inspire my hand, Your hands reach out with that medalion band, You embrace my strengths as I led, Even when it was better that I fled. No. You are my Mother. Straight faced. A frown, never moved. I see the regret in your expression. Never a day goes by without that Tension. You are my mother. The world applauds me, I became everything I never thought I could be. But as I sit on this stage I look below. Your back is all you show. You are my Mother, I wish I could leave you behind. But the jewels, the silks, that hint of kind. I am but a fish. And you, the fisherman. You are my Mother.

From a Swing in Alaminos

I sit on a metal bar. The once blue ocean is ink, the same I use to write A songstress whispers calming words from above. I wish he was here. One song, I remember him. He gives me a ring from a city balcony. Two song, I remember him. He gives me a ring from a mountain top. A final song, I remember him. He gives me a ring, its in a poisoned apple. I look into the black. The momentum never stops. I want to stop to breathe. But I can feel it. Back to Top