Speak Up/Vote/Life Is Short

A series of poems from various timelines, all with the same theme – VOTE! and being mindful of how that vote affects our fellow beings, human and otherwise, and the planet.

Speak Up
To speak up or be silent
In the face of injustice
The muddy roots have been stirred
Change and fierce opposing notions
Knocking on every door

Will you lie down and wait
Will you fill up with hate
Will you call on goddess great
Will you call out these men of state

Stand up and be heard
Vote with your word
Pray the highest good
Unfolds as it should

Vote, No Joke!
Better vote, it ain’t no joke
Better get woke before we go up in smoke
Decisions they make, well they misspoke
Risks they take find us broke

Better vote, it ain’t no joke
Words so fake as they build this hoax
Lives at stake as they burn our notes
Worlds may break unless we cast our votes

Before we’re deeper in the ditch
Before they make another switch
Before they tear another stitch
Before the rich just get more rich


Life Is Short
This governing body
Does not govern my body
I’m no object to control
I’m a living breathing soul

The truth will be told
I know the lies you’ve sold
A human’s heart of gold
Has been left out in the cold

They keep driving this rift
But there’s gotta be a shift
They try to keep us separated
With lies they instigated

But we, the people are stirring
Waking up, shaken and burning
We’ve been activated
We won’t be underrated

Truth gets elevated
We won’t be sedated
We won’t be relegated
To the hate you’ve paraded

Life’s too short to fall for that bait
Love’s too strong and needs no debate
The time is now, we can no longer wait
The time is ripe to seal our fate

Every Last Vote

Stories we’re told vs truth-facts-bones

Inspired by current events; by AOC’s riveting speech; by Hannah Gadsby’s Nanette program; by Paul Joseph’s (@thepauljoseph) educational course on 5 million years of Black History; by R.R. Shakti’s course and talks on mythology/Herstory/history.  And by life itself.

There’s a lot that we’re just told
That we’re forced to uphold
While the truth gets buried in the fold
Ancient bones left in the cold

Constructs that we’re told to live within
And subconscious things we believe in
Not essential truths
No elemental proof

In fact, there’s loads of evidence
That show a different existence
Yet we trudge along in acceptance
Borderline indifference

To flagrant injustices that are constantly thrust upon us
And it all comes back around to something simple and profound
That we all deserve to be happy and free
To live life with love, without suffering

But the power and greed
Of a small percentage who agree
That more is what they need
While others starve and bleed

This sad faction so diseased
With empty hearts and karmic deeds
They control everything
Or so it seems

Well are the tides turning?
Are we fruitless in our burning?
Are we condemned to ever-yearning for an existential unlearning?
Will their karmic debts finally come to a head?
Will the collective soul be fed before we leave this planet dead?

I have to believe in the hope of the heart
That there is good left, enough to build an ark
To acknowledge the pieces we’ve torn apart
To make peace with ourselves would be a good start

Leo Moon, fun with new camera phone lenses

Social Media Brake-Break

I think one thing we can all agree on, is that a social media break now and then is essential to maintaining some sense of equilibrium.  Whether one actually takes the break, to put on the brakes…easier said than done.  When you’re an artist/creative/business person, it’s hard to make that leap and commit to a break.  When there’s so much happening in the world, it can seem like ‘hiding’ from what’s happening.  But for self-care, we have to set aside what popular belief says, and rest the eyes.
Well, the time has come for me to commit.  I’ve just made 40, politics and news keep intensifying and the divides seem to keep widening.  And while I’ll do my best to maintain aware and connected to ‘what’s happening’, a solid break from FB/IG are necessary for me to prevent burnout.  This will give my husband and I time to focus on our recording, writing and learning processes.
I’m looking forward to 4-6 weeks with a little less distraction.  Here’s a poem about it.

Get thee to the trees
In the forest or to the sea
Or to a lake, take a break
Before you break or fail to make
The most of life, drop the dull knife
Cut through the strife before it siphons
Off every joy and smile
Go at least 100 miles
In the direction of peace, find a release
Find a place to heal
Where the truth can be revealed

There’s a lot I’ve left undone
I’ve been distracted and on the run
It’s not the setting of my sun
But the need to have some fun
The need to create
To leave behind the hate
And find love is our natural state

I’m tired of waiting and hesitating
Censoring myself in the interest of placating
I have no interest in debating
Whether my truth meets your rating
Whether my words are satiating
Whether the light is simply fading
Or if it’s life that we’re all evading


Doubt Storms the Mind

This doubt storm blows in from time to time; it stalls the mind and undermines my inner shrine.  I shudder to think of what I’d become if I didn’t have yoga+meditation+music+creative outlets+nature to stabilize me when these elements pass through me.  Each storm is a learning experience and a way to reset the internal compass.  As I often like to say, if you don’t excavate, how will you elevate?


Who does this doubt belong to?
Where does it originate from?
What is this story tied to?
Do I know where I belong?

The doubt wears the crown
More often than I wear my own noun
When I think I’m on the turn around
Well here comes the run around
And I’m scrambling on the ground

All the things I think I see
False perceptions of reality
Is everything I feel
Coming from some reel to reel
Like a film that isn’t even real?

Did I make a raw deal?
Did I forget every skill?
Whose download is this anyway?
Have I been riding the wrong freeway?

What frequency am I tuned into?
What telescope am I looking through?
Who can I turn to
When I can’t breathe and I’m turning blue?

This walking disaster
Could it move any faster?
Am I stuck in plaster?
Never to be a master?

When I leave this room
It turns into a temple of doom
I could use a mental broom

If I could find a way to bloom
And blossom out of this impossible gloom
Break the glamour of this tomb

Light a thousand matches
Rise up from the ashes
Blink, blink my eyelashes
Recover from these mind rashes

Walk away from those attachments
That only left me in fragments

If I could embrace some movements
To find some soul improvements
To find some life amusements
To love this life and use it.

How Long Does Loneliness Last?

We’re all losing people, routines, ways of life; but I have to hope that there’s a higher purpose behind the circus.
Next Sat. (7/4) will be 3 months to the day that my brother left this earthly plane.
Yesterday, at the end of our weekly Facebook live-stream, we did a spoken word loop of this poem, an energetic dedication.
While losing people we love is especially difficult during a global pandemic/revolution, I’m grateful that I’ve had extra down time to write, reflect and meditate; it’s my way of processing my grief, the collective grief, and finding moments of peace.

PS – re: the ‘mask’ in the 2nd paragraph – not the mask debate we see today, but the proverbial mask/disguise we all wear in various moments and phases of life.  Not that I had to tell you that, but maybe I did.

5/4/20 –
Thumbing through the past
With my flag at half mast
The shadows that it’s cast
The questions I should’ve asked

How long does loneliness last?
Why you always wore a mask
Why you never filled your glass
Why you left so fast

It’s been a full 30 days
I know we’ve all prayed
That you’re on the side of grace
That you’re in a better place

But I still miss your face
And even the games that you played
And your mischievous ways
Using words like a maze

As down time increases
We’re all searching for the pieces
Of the puzzle to your story
To find any reasons

While the heartache never ceases
It changes form with the seasons
While our memory decreases
Yours, it just freezes.

My brother and my grandfather, both in the great beyond

My brother and grandmother, both in the great beyond

My brother, Matthew. RIP (1975-2020)


The beautiful, haunting cemetery in Terlingua, TX, March 2020.


On this Solstice and Father’s Day, and time of great change, let us see each other without all of the grievances and differences.  Let us see each other through an open heart and willingness to love, to forgive and to be essentially happy.

11/30/19 –
Open your heart and receive
Open your mind and believe
Open your soul and let leave
All the dark that would deceive

Open your heart and let leave
All the parts full of grief
Call the egos bluff
And believe you are enough

Raise up your aim
Let go of fear and shame
Experience your worth
Share your light on this earth

Come to know the grace of your path
Follow soul’s pace and laugh

We are each unique in how we live and speak
The world not so lonely and bleak
When we allow ourselves to drink
The radiance of life and not shrink or sink

Then we allow ourselves to blink
And see a world where we’re all linked
Interconnected instead of dissected
Respected instead of rejected

Stand under this great, big sun
And know the light touches everyone
We’re all rooted to this planet earth
Know that we all have equal worth

Through the Storm

Words I wrote 6 years ago, are coming back around to me now, at a perfect moment. The upheaval for soul retrieval, to uproot what is medieval;
Muster the courage to abolish the scourge and make peace with a curse too long endured.
Find a reason to Love through Everything, always learning and listening.

I word-searched my main journal document with the keyword, Grace; looking for grace. It turns out, I write that word quite a lot, and am often in search of it.
It is one of those words with various meanings depending on context, but I found this definition most applicable: “the influence or spirit of the God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them”.
Whether or not you “believe in God”, we’re all searching for the higher good; searching for a way to connect with ‘source’.

We’re in the midst of an incredible growth period as a humanity, which is rife with ‘growing pains’. We must stay open and willing to do the work necessary to evolve. Most importantly, we must Love through Everything, for Love is at our very essence.

I’ll try to remember your face
Before you leave this place
And pray that you can trace
Your path back to grace

Nothing about the past
Can ever be changed back
But the present is vast
And there is nothing you lack

A simple choice to forgive
A sacred chance to live

There is a quickening
The veil is thinning
So much beginning
At the same time ending

Pray hard
Breathe deep
Dream wide awake
Against the sleep

The road gets weary
It can seem so scary
But love is always near
Love will always carry us

Through the storm
Threads are torn
But we are then reborn
Safe and warm.

The ties that bind. Jasmine and vine spirals

Reflections in Stillness; City Park NOLA 2020

To Not React

Quarantine time has me typing my past journals on a more regular basis.  This has felt, at times, like notes to my future self (aka, me, right now).  Things that I needed to see on the page then, and work out in my mind at that moment, serve as reminders and sign posts to my current moments.  And it’s been that way for me through most of my typing process, regardless of when the words were written.  It continues to be a fascinating thing for me, and so I’m working on sharing more of these moments with you here.  I hope that the words are what you needed in the moment as well.  xoxo

9/13/19 –
Sometimes the hardest thing to do
Is to not react
To open the heart and not attack

The negative mind
On constant rewind and looking to find
The dangers and detriments that leave us on the side lines
In fear of the real or imagined crimes

If we can count to ten and take a deep breath
If we can stay zen amidst the mess
We don’t have to defend or be swept up in stress
We don’t have to pretend that we know what’s next

Petroglyphs, Tucson, AZ

Petroglyphs, Tucson, AZ

On Death and Dying

4/9/20 –
Well you didn’t tell me nothing
That I wanted to hear
Maybe it’s my ego
Laced up in too much fear

You didn’t leave me nothing
But questions and tears
Mountains of moments
That add up to years

A lot of memories cut too deep
As I search for ones I’d like to keep
A lot of things left unsaid
Now that you’re gone
They fill up my head
Like a lonesome sad song

No amount of prayers
Could’ve peeled back the layers
No string of words
Could convey how much I cared

You always were an angel
Just wearing the devil’s clothes
In a struggle and so entangled
Now only heaven knows

Critics will say what they will
That you had a raw deal
They don’t know how you feel
And what is deemed divine will

Maybe on the other side
You’re our angel and our guide
To help us navigate these shifting tides

A poem for these ancient modern times

I wrote this a couple weeks before our lock-down, when I sensed what was beginning to unfold, and what has now become the focus for the entire population of humanity.  I say ‘ancient’ modern times because, in a sense, these human issues are ancient issues we’ve been trying to sort through for so many ages.
“Claim your independence from complacency” (thanks Reginald Hubbard)
Claim independence from from complacence
In a deeper dance with circumstance
To root out the shadow trance
To wake up and make some plans.

3/6/20 –
The friction of this fiction that we’re living in
The corruption, the destruction and all the ways that we sin
Drowning out the voice of reason
Dreams turned nightmares and patience gets thin
We wonder where to begin again

Tempers get short and it’s time to abort
The ways that we were can no longer hold court
The intensity of the storm begins to swarm
And we look to the truth to keep us warm

But the aftermath is smoldering and we’re burned by the coals
We choke on the smoke, and we look for ways to cope
Who will throw a rope when we’re sliding down the slope
Off the cliff into the river, how will we be delivered?
Will we shrivel and shiver, deep in the stream, sentenced only to dream?

Will we ever wake up and come up for air, or just wallow in the despair?
Will we find a way to swim and breathe deep to repair?

Can we come together aware and set aside notions of fair?
Can we find some unity in why we’re all here?