Preconceived Creativity

Simple Thoughts

"You're free

to be

as creative as you are;

or so they say. 



Every time, 

the artist guided,




Why is the artist

so restricted? 

IS it concious? 


Do those who commission 


know they can be stifling it? 



is it a lack of trust? 

Not enough of it 

to go around, knows 

the budding artist


with lack of portfolio. 

No trust 

goes to those

with no reference. 


So often are we told

we are free, 

when we are not. 

Their own opinion 


trusted first, 

unintentional or not, 

before the artist, 

the one who creates. 


When one asks another

to create, 

to stifle the flame

is to put it out completely. 


Trust is a must, 

we must learn to 

give our hearts and minds

and souls 


to others

to mold.


And that's the hardest thing to do."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

So often am I told by other artists they are held back by those who ask for their art, creativity. 



You put your life in the hands of others.
You trust them,
You believe them,
And in turn they fail you.


You hope that they will take care of you,
You know deep down they will,
They will never do anything to compromise you…
Until they do.


It is amazing the lack of trust in our lives,
But who can blame us,
Nobody can be trusted,
Especially those we thought we could trust the most.


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Dear Reader

Who are you?

Silent in that dark booth,

Voyeur of my fantasies,

Aspirations, Tribulations,

What kind of statisfaction are you getting?

Clicking on my confessions,

Scrolling through my history,

Do I remind that you're beautiful?


Do I remind you of your former self?

Before you got old and dull?

Jaded by your own amaranthine?

Somehow my flirtations with death,

Convert you back to life,

My longing heart,

Sews a stitch in yours,

Drop another quarter in the slot,

Behind your privacy glass dear reader,

Like some dutch whore house,

2am on your exotic vacation,

You reek,

Like booze, cheap ones,

Your lips are peeling white, like icebergs slamming together,

You don't smoke but you bought a pack,

Your tie is so loose it might as well be wrapped around your forehead,

Eyes red skin green,

You barely staggered into this place,

Now you're cutting through the red lights and cigar smoke,

Trying to find that door you opened last time, aren't you?

I suppose I'll never know,

After all I'm the one on display,

And we both know why we're here,

Just sit back and relax,

Let me cut myself open,

For you,

Tell me how you like it,

When I bleed.

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naughty ramblings

I'm really not the type to snitch
but yo man asked me to be his bitch
the one who wears matching panties
the one who ups all the anties
goes low and takes all the mess
The one he secretly calls the best

yo man asked me to be his bitch
A third wheel rolling beside you which
Knows his deepest desires better than you
His aches and pains that keep you on the pedestal
Checked all my details but this one he missed
Mary Jane is the only girl whose lips I'll kiss

Girl run flip the switch
He won't find a new bitch
Recycling old chicks 
who used to let him hit
your man asked me to be his bitch
quit playing bitch and go scratch his itch

Author's Notes/Comments: 





ciggerettes , 

money and music , 

power and fire , 

pornography ,

philosophy , 

on top of me, 

inside of you ,

can you trust me?




lies , 

loniliness ,consciousness,

treading thy water ,

everyday I'm worse ,

everyday I wake up,

come wander with me love ,

come wander with me ,

away from this sad world ,

come wander with me ,

I came from the sunset ,

I came from the sea,

come wander with me love ,

can you trust me? 

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The Necromancer Who Cared

There was darkness around me.

It felt like a bad dream.

Fear, anger, pain, and sorrow.

These are feelings that consumed me.

I fear I would lose myself.

I was by myself while the moon beams its silver light onto my body.

A hand reached out for me.

I jerked back, knowing the hand belonged to a necromancer.

He was a misunderstood man and he is very brave.

I was scared of him even if my pain is much worse.

The necromancer told me that I should not be alarmed.

He won't harm me and he promised to guide me to peace.

He knew that I am in pain so I ask myself, "Did someone send him?"

There is compassion in this necromancer, I can feel it.

I could not revel in my misery so I took his hand.

He helped me up and once I stood, my arms were around him.

He jerked back a little, but reassured me that everything will be fine.

We went to his barn and sat me down on a rock.

He did too and all we did was talk.

He wouldn't open my eyes if he didn't care about me.

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*Gift of Love*

Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

Babi I got something to say 
I love you so very much 
I've carved it in a tree 
Feeling it everyday 
I love your special touch 
It's the way i wanted it to be 


I want to tell the whole world 
How much you mean to me 
With my trusty pocket knife 
Has made my message quite plan 
And best of all It wont ever wash off 
In case we have some silly rain 
It wont get lost 


Our love will always be 
My love will always grow as the years go by 
When we are old and gray 
Our love will never say good-bye 
So relax and give a sigh 


We can come and look again 
At what i have carved today 
Because this shows our relationship 
Its shows it'll never die 



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Different And Same


I know that faith and trust

Are completely different

That they always will be

I think in this case

They are one in the same


I know that you have a difficult

Time when it comes to trust

That anymore you can't

That way too many times have

You been filled with uncertainty


Well I have a difficult time

With having faith in anything at all

I have been hurt, completely decimated

So many times that it seems

That I am incomplete


But then I found you

And I found that you were simply existing

Just like I was so we decided to do this whole

Thing together and it has been so awesome

That never will we go astray



Written on

November 24, 2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About Chad. The love I was bound to lose.

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Silent sanctuary

so much I wish I could say but know I shouldn't utter a word.
silence is my sanctuary
haven't you heard? out of the whispers
a bleak void is what separates this voice from that choice to say
what would slice you up into oozing chunks of aching flesh
take your mind & contort the rest.
I am the bruise inside
the purple faded on pale rough skin.


when in doubt, i'll cut it out
all the pain within..
you may judge what I speak
but it'll come straight back to you.
your face is like a terrible sin
a memory that freezes me in between motion
crumpling my bones
suddenly everything gets so cold.


trust not what is seen
for it lies through gorgeous white teeth
& beautiful eyes, they undress you in vulgar ways
& ears that don't know what you mean.
& it feels as if theres a knife being pushed into your throat..
unable to escape.
only option left
is cry your heart out
in hopes of being saved