self realization



Peering through my looking glass

I began to see all the cracks.

Large to small, obscure and symmetrical

Contorting my image into a spectacle.

I did not recognize the man in the mirror

His appearance had changed over the years.

Cold and void of life, his eyes had shown

Chills in my spine began to grow.

The man is wrought with anger and confusion

His mind is filled with grandiose delusions.

Fixing the mirror, the mans appearance changed

His face and body arranged in my way.

The mirror was fixed, yet the cracks still showed

The man is still underneath, just in new clothes.









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What do you do when you find you have lost faith in your god. The moment you realize that it is nothing more than a wispy thought created in your heart. All the hope and joy that some sort of salvation had found you, cradled you in its arms and coated your heart with the warmth of a thousand suns.


I can tell you, its much like love, like falling in love with a person and then having all that joy and faith crushed into nothingness. Feeling as if there is nothing left good in the world, a sense of emptiness fills you and in desperation you reach out to another fluffy cloud that looks like its made of substance. Only to once again be left with cold dew on your face, the essence of hope simply burned away by the warmth of your skin.


Time and time again, the death and resurrection of these gods bring their intended lessons, yet the student doesn't want to learn, we project our wants, needs and desires onto them as an external mirror, doing an entangled narcissistic dance, blind and deaf to the memory of our previous role in this dark ballet.


Then out of the ashes fly tiny sparks of burning embers, holding the pure conscious truth, of hope, joy, love. Not longing for the reflection, but knowing that the source of all lies within the creation. There's no place like home.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

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The Old Me

I miss the old me, the one I knew before you. You know, the positive, self confident, handsome, young teen. I don't know what it was about you that made me change, but all I know is I hate it. I'm tired of trying to impress you, trying to do or say anything to please you, I'm done. Welcome back, I've missed me.

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Black Sheep




Dedicated to Ashley L. Bragg




"Why?", you ask....


What words

in what order

should fall

into place

so that you may see

that "Why?"

isn't the question?

For so long

have I been

this way

that "Why?"

is no longer

of concern

I am an


and metaphoric being

Of which

I employ

that which


that of a sheep

and a wolf

For once

was I a wolf




I preyed upon

"innoncent" sheep

They were not weak



The sheep

played no games

They simply


Coasting along

unaware of

of the tactics

and strategies

that were in play

Now, I am

one of the flock


grazing along

head down

Only able to see

what is inches

from my face

This is my role

And though

I am no longer

a wolf in skulk

The blood...

MY blood

of the wolf

still runs deep

and runs stronger now

than ever before

I am

I am

I am


"Why?" is not

the question

The question is....

"Who am I?"

"Who am I?"

I am who I am

A wolf.

- Jan 22 / 2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was written out of hurt, anger, and frustration about the fact that my girlfriend at the time and I wouldn't allow me to open myself up to her. Funny thing is that this poem was originally started as a love song for her to sing.

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