2020

Searching for peace in all this unrest Another hurtle for 2020 and a split between righteous and wicked. Don’t ask me which is which as both sides hold heaven and hell. If every person thinks they are right how can you get them to see reason? It use to be that facts and science stood

Against the Grain

There’s shame in my resentment. It burrows its way back into my heart and mind, if I let it. WHEN I let it. Like tendrils they pierce the flesh of every thought as every negative memory of you plays on repeat in my head. The warnings were there all along. Love shouldn’t be a constant

Frayed Edges

Here I go again. Omitting truth for peace. Afraid to crush your fragile sentimentality. Constantly teetering on the scale of our relationship. This time I won’t falter, No matter the cost. This time I will speak my mind, Without concern for your delicate heart. The one I fight to understand as I search for my

Soliloquy

The smell of fresh rolls wafted through the dining area. I sat at the bar waiting for my order. A man sat three stools down. I caught intermittent mumbles about death, the end of the world, and some Bible verses. I wonder if he knows something I don’t? If he hears the echo of voices

Your Touch

You didn’t touch me again today. Should I be worried? Is it happening again? My thoughts go dark fast. Has my adventurous nature become mundane? Perhaps. But,There will be a time when you’ll realize what you have. Hopefully, Before I stop missing the feel of your hands on my skin. Before the thought of your

We Rise

No worries, We’ll be okay, whatever may come. Empires have risen and fallen Hellfire, rain, famine, locust, pandemic and all. We’ll be okay. We’ll rise from the rubble, rebuild what was lost. Waters recede, and the sun shines again We’ll rise from the ash, as spring gifts us her bloom. Crops are resown, industries recover

Mistaken Path

I am here but I am gone, Waiting for new time to dawn. One without so many cares, One with less burdens to bear. I am here but I am not, A memory of what I was taught. Like a faded withered tree, Only a figment of what use to be. Will I grow to

Nostalgia

I take my place as part of a final generation that grew up when Saturday morning cartoons were still a thing, and Sundays were still held sacred. Before internet and cell phones trapped us in zombie mode. Saying so makes me feel ancient. It’s a strange thing when change comes so quickly. A quarter of

Mayflies

I use to think when people died young it was because there was so much sadness in their hearts they just could’t keep it from breaking. I would have kept on believing this had I not lost my daddy so young, or experienced the agony of losing two unborn children, only to find I still

Sanctimonious

The words rolled off her tongue so eloquently. I, even believed her bullshit. She wore that infectious smile and feigned excitement when she met someone new. Inviting you to rub elbows with the “elites,” like that is where you belonged. Fooled so many, including myself, with her slippery manipulations. If she said you were enough,

My Screen Door

The concrete was hot on my feet that late summer evening. My toes curled in response to the slight discomfort. A symphony of crickets and locusts permeated the warm evening air like an orchestra welcoming the night. I stood there listening to their song, nostalgia washing over me again. Memories of messy brunette hair, bare

A Life

The stars pricked holes in the darkness and I wished I could live under them. Warm air wrapped me up and I was home. I stood there a moment thinking of him and what he would have been like. His soft fuzzy hair on my fingertips, a sweet little face and gummy grin, those tiny

Have Courage

Just some encouragement for fellow Christians.

Food for Thought

Pondered the brevity of life today. Soon realized the powers that be, God in my case, only granted us a small taste of this world because even the short time we’re given is taken for granted. Imagine how ungrateful and wasteful we would be if we lived thousands of years. Imagine the unending procrastination and

Scorn

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Note to Self

Just wanted to let you know… You fucked up. Mistakes have been made. There’s no turning back. Now, Get up, Dust yourself off, And keep going! —- Clary

Paint All of Your Secrets

Copyright 2018 Clary Can I paint all of your secrets with a waterfall of words? As you open every window screaming to be heard As I pull apart the pieces of your badly mangled heart As I separate the tangled strands that tell me who you are. Can I wash out all the shades of

Written Word

Words seem to scurry from crowded corners of my mind. From there, to pen, to paper, tearing their way outside. Scribbling themselves in harmony, across an empty page. Showing no discrimination, no matter creed, gender, or age. Telling tales of wars long past, present tales of love denied. Emanating with emotions, all humanity is assigned.