They told me to write a poem, one to celebrate the art of rhymes, structures and creating something beautiful. I’ve always hated the ritual of celebration, its infatuation done wrong. My poem was awful, shameful and downright dismal. They told me to write something beautiful. My body was my blank canvas, and I wrote the … More They told Me to Write a Poem (Spoken Word)
Dance me round until we forget the time of day, or where we are. Twirl me in your arms as we glide like silhouettes, and dance in shadows. Dance me round and tell me its okay to be scared, because life is a mess, but we are piecing it together. Whisper that its just me … More Dance Me Round (Spoken Word).
Tell me how you kissed her skin, and told her she was beautiful. How you spoke to her with that soft voice you use, when you tell me its okay. Tell me that she thought the world of you, and believed you were the one. That you showed her rainbows, and smiled when she danced … More Tell me How you Treated Her (Spoken Word).
My garden is filled with weeds of the past and seeds I have planted to create a new future. The weeds sting my hands as I try to pull them from the ground. It is a mound I have re-made every time there has been a storm. It is like a life re-born. My garden … More My Garden (Spoken Word).
To the girl I used to be, listen carefully to what I have to say and follow my advice. Don’t you dare sell yourself short, or believe you are never good enough. You don’t know this, but one day it will feel better, just believe. Yes, there will be bad days and good days, but … More To my Younger Self (Spoken Word).
I used to climb those same vines of darkness and depth, but then I reached the top and hell couldn’t pull me down anymore. I stared down at the world, from my tower of recovery I could see the struggle, the crippling of mankind. I tried to pull you up the wall, scratched my bare … More This Tower