As people become more engaged in their work in today's world, we need some places to repose and lounge around. In some cases, it can be a pub or a bar that you've been going to for the past decade every single Friday to celebrate the end of the work-week. It depends on peoples' preferences and what they really like. I am, just like my grandpa, not an exception and we do have a place we usually go to in...

The sand hugs my toes as I stare out at the water, it's grains smoothing out my skin. Scrubbing away the ash that's settled there, clinging to me like I'm all it has left. It's all I have left.

My hair floats in the wind. Its tangles that once filled me with such rage billowing around my face, protecting me from the orange glow on the horizon. Hiding me from an inevitable end.

If I stare forward, fix my gaze...

Teeming with life,
teeming with strife,
struggle, issues, hunger,
yet life.

The strong eat the weak,
The weak try hide,
they do things to fill their days, 
But something is looming,
Something new.

New is dangerous.
New is strange,
new destroys their home.
That unnatural thing takes, and takes,
Takes their homes and takes their city.

There is no giving back,
there is only taking,
Life leaves after years and years,
the city turns gray.

Their home is leaving, fading...

    The bustling throng of citizens, shove through clogged corridors. Vivacious musicians fabricate gorgeous harmonies elevating the humor of the passersby. Clusters of pigeons tackle exposed food perched up upon the dilapidated parkway seating. Repulsive rodents squirm from their cavernous boroughs, hounds imprisoned by those who deem themselves worthy. Tattered men lay destroyed by the traumatic demanding world. Encompassing these men monstrous buildings devour the sacred sky. Thunderous machines ascend across heavens in place of birds. A calamity of trash swarms...

There is a patch of wild in my old backyard, vines over fences and plants that creep up the walls, they hide the body of a robin and corpses of spiders long gone, the moss on the ground is softer than a mattress and the evergreen needles that came from who knows where are kinder than my real parents.
The cavities of trees long gone scar the ground like craters, dandelions throwing their wishes to the wind and trees reaching...

Come to the forest,
Where things are slow,
The air is mellow,
Where thoughts can be said out loud
And calmness is there.

Come home to the trees,
To be friends with the trees
And listen to the breeze;
Wander through the trails
and relax your body.

Come home to nature
Where the water reflects beauty
and the Stars are shining;
Come so your soul can be healed
When something feels wrong,
To a place you belong.

The forest waits ...

Come to the forest,
Where things are slow,
The air is mellow,
Where thoughts can be said out loud
And calmness is there.

Come home to the trees,
To be friends with the trees
And listen to the breeze;
Wander through the trails
and relax your body.

Come home to nature
Where the water reflects beauty
and the Stars are shining;
Come so your soul can be healed
When something feels wrong,
To a place you belong.

The forest waits ...

The dark forest
The forest is dark
Come home to the forest
Where things are slow
The air is mellow
Where thoughts can be said out loud
And calmness is there
Come home to the trees
To be friends with the trees
And listen to the breeze
Wander through the trails
Relax your body
Come home to nature
Where water is shining
Stars are shining
Come so your soul can be healed
When something feels wrong
Or a place to...

The dark forest
The forest is dark
Come home to the forest
Where things are slow
The air is mellow
Where thoughts can be said out loud
And calmness is there
Come home to the trees
To be friends with the trees
And listen to the breeze
Wander through the trails
Relax your body
Come home to nature
Where water is shining
Stars are shining
Come so your soul can be healed
When something feels wrong
Or a place to...

Teeming with life,
teeming with strife,
struggle, issues, hunger,
yet life.

The strong eat the weak,
The weak try hide,
they do things to fill their days, 
But something is looming,
Something new.

New is dangerous.
New is strange,
new destroys their home.
That unnatural thing takes, and takes,
Takes their homes and takes their city.

There is no giving back,
there is only taking,
Life leaves after years and years,
the city turns gray.

Their home is leaving, fading...

Teeming with life,
teeming with strife,
struggle, issues, hunger,
yet life.

The strong eat the weak,
The weak try hide,
they do things to fill their days, 
But something is looming,
Something new.

New is dangerous.
New is strange,
new destroys there home.
That unnatural thing takes, and takes,
Takes their homes and takes their city.

There is no giving back,
there is only taking,
Life leaves after years and years,
the city turns gray.

Their home is leaving, fading...

Teeming with life,
teeming with strife,
struggle, issues, hunger,
yet life.

The strong eat the weak,
The weak try hide,
they do things to fill their days, 
But something is looming,
Something new.

New is dangerous.
New is strange,
new destroys there home.
That unnatural thing takes, and takes,
Takes their homes and takes their city.

There is no giving back,
there is only taking,
Life leaves after years and years,
the city turns gray.

Their home is leaving, fading...

    The place behind the fence. Five words, meaningless to most, bring back memories from another time, seemingly another lifetime entirely. Memories of a crisp autumn breeze, and brittle leaves crunching underneath my feet. Memories of the place I will forever call home. Every day without fail, my eight year old self would ride down my New York City building's elevator in anticipation, waiting to go down to my community yard. Though this little and often cramped space was sufficient for...

    The place behind the fence. Five words, meaningless to most, bring back memories from another time, seemingly another lifetime entirely. Memories of a crisp autumn breeze, and brittle leaves crunching underneath my feet. Memories of the place I will forever call home. Every day without fail, my eight year old self would ride down my New York City building's elevator in anticipation, waiting to go down to my community yard. Though this little and often cramped space was sufficient for...

Harmonious fields 
Grandparents tranquil estate
Evil Contractors

Between my house, the Old Church on Marlowe road (I can't quite recall its name- something St Andrews, I think), and the constantly gridlocked main road heading north towards the tunnel, is some grass. That's it, really. Nothing much. Approximately seven feet wide at the base by a length of a dozen at best (coming to a rather sudden-but-not-quite-pointed-enough halt to be triangular, because I think throwing an unexpected shape in there might have startled the construction worker,...

Crimson Sunflower Meadows
a simple memory, so fragile & could be forgotten 
it seems so long ago that we were there,
riding bikes in the dusty air of summertime, 
along the empty streets, & once in a while
the dogs would bark as we passed,
angry to be awoken from their summertime slumber. 

lying on top of so much history, so many stories, 
buried forever in the tall grass & sunflowers
that waved in the breeze as we passed. 
you're...

There is an oak close to my house, I call her Hidden Wisdom.
For all the knowledge she must have, she cannot share it with us.
Others do not seem to see the greatness of her presence.
How can one manage to ignore the greatness she irradiates?
She must have been there years ago.
Before the streets and buildings came, ere humans even walked here.
Now she stands there at the junction; cars passing every day.
I pass her on...

when I can feel the dew drops prickling my arms and the wind pulling me off the face of the earth. the clouds press against my body in a tender embrace of a once remembered love.
and the stars kiss my lips with their light that once was. the time between yesterday and today flows around me,
whispering of moments between today and tomorrow, right now and never, always and forgotten.

and a star, a wish, burns away across the...

the whispering hill behind my house
is where i kissed a boy
with sea green eyes
that were clear and opaque, 

it's also where he asked for my
forgiveness after a picture of him surfaced
in my messages. 
a full bodied cheerleader was sat in his lap, 
her quarter-cut amber irises arresting the phone camera lens.

the whispering hill behind my house is gone. 
it's been replaced with a shed
that's still empty,
even though its been a year since...

The light gleams through narrow slits cutting harshly into the bush, a warm embrace of wilted flowers and thorns. I push through the carefully, wincing as nature pokes and prods until open wounds bleed onto the untouched soil. My grit kept the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the sense of adventure in the air. 

I stand among the broken branches and thick entanglement; the world ceases to spin, crystalized in place. The beauty, the wonder, the comfort found behind the...

the park standing a few steps away from my house
holds a tree. 
under the shade i used to crawl to
and let the shadows bury me. 

the bittersweet, lingering glances
wondering why i never spoke. 
they hadn't known that all my confessions
where sitting peacefully as droplets on the leaves. 

the kids that ran across in front
pondered if i was okay. 
it's as if they couldn't see the thick wood 
always behind my back. 

i wasn't lonely, 
but...

Name a place before its gone,
​Would be my backyard,
​cool grass with good breeze,
Calling it my ace card
​a good trail 
breezy cool off walks 
​abandon tracks old nails
place to laugh and talk 
​especially in cabin when hails 
​looking at rocks 
barrying tracks rails
​shoes wet soaky socks
throwing it in chest locked 
​6 ft under ground with ex mails. 
​


 

Name a place before its gone,
​Would be my backyard,
​cool grass with good breeze,
Calling it my ace card
​a good trail 
breezy cool off walks 
​abandon tracks old nails
place to laugh and talk 
​especially in cabin when hails 
​looking at rocks 
barrying tracks rails
​shoes wet soaky socks
throwing it in chest locked 
​6 ft under ground with ex mails. 
​


 

There's an old tree in front of our house. It's a lovely tree. I call it the past tree because my dad used to draw that tree. No not the exact one but one that looked just like it. He had never seen this tree before. He drew it though so it's like a tree from the past. I like the tree I mean It kinda creeps me out but it beautiful in the summer. Yeah, that's all this is...