Generations On Notice Everywhere

When God truly tires
of our travesties
spitting in the face of Love

The wars.
The deceit
The starving
in the street.
The pain
we inflict
to profit
from the sick.

Ignoring need.
Inexhaustible greed.
The laughter
while others die.
Indifference shown
to those who weep
as they say

When God truly tires

Those selfish first
will be taken last.
Extravagant parties
will be long past.
Expensive garb
tear and shred
as repentance mires
in burning beds.

But the rest will not rejoice,
celebrate ruin,
or take pleasure
in pain reeking of sin,
for only evil is evil
and only evil
commits evil
against their sleeping fellows.

When God truly tires,
then will unleash
another flood,
and all will be wiped
from existence,
for this time
there will be no warning.



Why is a dream but a vision
others wish me not to see?
Why do I feel plots hatching
as if I’m the farthest enemy?
Why must I sink
for you to rise?
A restless desire
for my demise.
This trial by fire
knows me in ways
you can never expect
and certainly don’t praise.

Once dark becomes my cloud,
and I travel in secret shroud
and count on inevitable
tearing of unlike souls,
accustomed to small measures
containing vast treasures
of fortunes only spoken of
in dreams,
only then will you perceive
what it is that I see.
Will you then find your heart
in resolve to preserve me?

Those Below

I stand here wondering
if life is a choice.
And I wonder what else is a choice.
I wonder why people behave
as if what they choose
is not a choice.
Why does a person practice a religion
that hurts others
as if it is not a choice?
Why does a person practice politics
that hurt others
as if it is not a choice?
Why do people look upon
a suicidal person
as if what they wish to do
as if the end of life they crave
is a choice?
Why is the end of our own lives
a choice
but not the end of others’ lives?
Why is hurting ourselves not right
but hurting others is right?
What makes us right?
What makes me wrong?

I stand here wondering
if life is a choice.
And I see a beetle cross my wood floor
not knowing where it is
not knowing which direction
it is headed
so it scuttles in any direction.
I bend to one knee
then descend to the other
and extend my hand
onto which the beetle hesitantly crawls.
I stand
and walk out the door
the dawn greeting me.
I step
down each gravelly step
to the ground floor
to the grass beside the walkway.
Lowering my hand to the damp grass
I allow the beetle to crawl excitedly
from my hand and onto the grass
where it feels more natural.
Walking back up the steps
I think of what I could have done
how I could have smashed it dead
rather than going out of my way
helping it
back to familiar ground.
Is life a choice?
What makes me so wrong?

Sleepless In…

Midnight rain drizzles
into puddles filling cracks in the pavement,
ripples dispersing lights reflected in them
as if colors are dancing in tribute
to the moon they will not see
until they tire and become still.

As déjà vu strikes another fiery soul
for a purpose no one knows,
not even the soul in repetition,
shut your eyes for fear of being blinded
by the scorching of dark
and tearing of sky’s fabric.

Remember what was said, for when
the same words must again be spoken
against the biting resistance,
these same words will be needed
but not as appreciated, as these same words
will have fallen from their meaning.

Is this the reason the shapes above
form and break and break and form
so to never be exact for too long?
Is this why the lights are thankful
their reflections are so effortlessly kept
so wildly unpredictable?

Perhaps normal would not be unwelcome
if the downpour was the sun,
or perhaps the sun has lost its meaning
in its quest to be far too reliable.
Truly, it is the unpredictable that is special
when it returns to grace us,

whenever this happens to be…


I can’t contain this anymore, I just can’t.

I have to say how totally in love I am with the music of an artist currently known as Ruelle. I say “currently known” because, it seems, she once released songs under the name Maggie Eckford.

How in love with her music am I? Let’s just say that with only a small amount of storage on my phone (I did buy it about 3 1/2 years ago), in order to include a Ruelle playlist, I had to cut one playlist from my short list of two playlists: Halo and Taylor Swift.

Sorry, Ms. Swift, but Ruelle has such a freakin’ amazing sound! You can hear it for yourself in the videos below (five of my favorites, in no particular order), and I encourage you to visit Ruelle’s channel over on YouTube. Her latest video is for a song from her new EP, Rival, to be released on June 30.

And if you’re a writer, I dare you to not be inspired by at least one of her songs. Personally speaking, “Bad Dream” is a piece that I listen to as I revise my trilogy. That song seriously captures the general mood of my protagonist throughout the three books.

Listen and love!

Picture Prompts With K.J. Chapman

If you love picture prompts, be sure to check in with author K.J. Chapman. On her blog, other than her bountiful supply of book reviews and updates on her exciting writings, can be found the occasional picture prompt that serves to stir the imagination and spark your creative juices.

A recent picture prompt that I participated in can be found here. You’ll see my contribution in the comments section. (K.J. called my writing “brilliant.” Please go over there to witness that.) Although, now that I think about it, I believe I was supposed to post my prompt writing in my own blog and then link back to her blog, so I guess I did it wrong. But hey, if I didn’t do something wrong, I wouldn’t be me. Haha!

Anyway, give that picture prompt and other prompts a look. Draw some inspiration and write, write, write! Who knows? Something you write from a prompt may end up in your own novel.

Speaking of novels, be sure to check out K.J.’s own novels: EVO Nation, EVO Shift, and Thrown to the Blue. Currently, she’s prepping the thrilling-sounding EVO Ghost for inevitable publication and working on an interesting idea known as Zombie Playlist. Also, she was kind enough to loan me her name for a key character in the last book of my own work-in-progress trilogy (Kay’leigh turned out to be an awesome character, by the way. Thank you!).

So, what are you waiting for? Get to a picture prompt and get to some writing! Don’t make me have to put on my Ah-nold Schwarzenegger voice and exclaim, “Naaaoooowwww!”

Angels Don’t Speak

I had a vision of where I come from
and in it I asked to see my soulmate
but what was shown to me
was only what I had already known

There they were, all of them
one in a striped shirt
another wearing a white garment
one’s silk dress playing with the wind
and others reflecting gleamed smiles
as they shared hugs and laughs
as joy and excited energy
permeated every cell of their souls
in their connection to each other

And there I was, a distance away
I could only observe and observe more
what was not within reach
what I could not obtain

I could only hope for indifference
to hold back a frown

And as I observed happiness from afar
a question begged my mouth to ask
“Why do I have to be here?”
but no answer came
so another question leapt from my lips
“Why can’t I be with them?”
but no answer came
and as I looked on longingly, I wondered
“Why am I alone?”

As the distant togetherness continued
I felt a hand slip inside my hand
as I felt an immense presence by my side
and the hand of an equal presence
then grasped my other hand
and their wings spread open around
surrounding me not like feathers
but as flame, a shield
and I was encased in their magnificence
as a light surged from within me
rushing out in all directions
to fill their shield and expand it
beyond even their reach

And while I gazed once more
at the distant happiness
I could not and will likely never have
a thought struck that struck me cold:

Indifference is what I was missing
and what I was missing
is not what I needed

So as I held the hands of beings
who could not be seen nor heard, only felt
upon my rear shoulders fell the touch of a third
as an enveloping light whisked us away

And I awoke from this vision
and though the three were not seen or heard
I could feel them with me
that is, until my mind faded in full
back to this similar reality

However, what I learned
remains still.

My OCD Hates Me Right Now

As I’m revising the first chapter of my first book (yet again), I can’t help but to feel that this chapter needs to be later in the book. Don’t get me wrong, Chapter 1 should be Chapter 1, but the way I wrote the book, the first three chapters are all introduction. The first chapter introduces the protagonist, Kara, the second chapter introduces a second important character, and the third chapter introduces another important character. I did this as a way to bring characters into play and give them a proper set-up and establish how they interact with each other. However, and this is kind of a feeling I got a few months ago when I went back and read the beginning of Chapter 4, I really think that the story actually starts moving in Chapter 4.

This is why my OCD hates me right now. It knows that Chapter 1 represents the beginning of the journey so should be first, but I know that the story may be better served with a start at Chapter 4. Given this, my OCD and I have come to a compromise.

My OCD still hates me; it’s just compromising.

What I’m thinking of doing is pulling a George Lucas. If anyone isn’t familiar with the Star Wars creator, here’s what he did: He released the fourth part of the Star Wars story as the first movie and later, about 15 years or so after giving us the fifth and sixth parts, went back to writing, directing, and releasing the first part of the story. Essentially, he gave us the story out of order, and I feel like I want to do the same thing. I mean, hey, it worked for George, so why can’t it also work for me in my quest to create a billion-dollar franchise that will become such a strong attachment for the most dedicated fans to the franchise that they will eventually hate me for any little thing I do to alter the originals or add to the story in any way?

So, in honor of George and his Star Wars saga, I’m moving Chapter 1 of my first book to after Chapters 4, 5, and 6. I’m not changing the chapter number; I’m simply moving it. In the table of contents, Chapter 4 will be first and Chapter 1 will be fourth. Why? I’m doing this to preserve the intended order in which to read the story. If a reader chooses to run straight through, starting with Chapter 4, that’s fine. If another reader – if I ever, by some miracle, happen to have more than one reader – chooses to flip to Chapter 1, bounce over to Chapter 2, and hop to Chapter 3 before skipping all the way back to Chapter 4, they’re welcome to do that.

Oh, speaking of Chapters 2 and 3, I found other places where they could fit nice and snug-like. The order I’m playing with, now, is as follows: 4, 5, 6, 1, 7, 8, 9, 10, 2, 11, 12, 3, 13, 14, 15, and 16.

Yes, my OCD is screaming its head off at me right now. It’s saying things like, “People will think you can’t count!” What my OCD voice doesn’t know, though, is that my inability to count is overshadowed by my inability to care. Although, I think that may be the ‘Murica voice in me talking.

I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.