A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity

I want things I can’t have; Things that are more than physical, more than emotional, more than possible. I want things I know I deserve things so easily attainable I’ve convinced myself they’re only future dreams. Dreams that I’ll try to step up to but instead place aside [with] other things I’ll get to dull …

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I still feel like an impostor but… not in that I’m hiding or faking my presence, but in that I have trouble finding a sense of belong wherever I am. Really, moreso in that the need to belong hurts intensely more than the truth of the knowledge that I don’t.   23 March 2019

Our fears only chase us in our dreams… And so we call them nightmares, beasts of the dark that gallop along craggy shores of wasteland with no end… And us, believing we can’t escape, not realizing our captivity lives only in our brilliant minds. Yet still, we run – Chasing the freedom we’re running from. …

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I am poetry. I am curves and swirls letters and words and sentences and action… I am language of both the unspoken and the talk told. I am stories and I am legend. I am writer but also reader, I am traveler and also vehicle. I am fact in all its fable, I am craft …

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But I’m not ready to come down yet – and I’m not ready to launch this next rocket, either… I just need a transitional lift, one that elevates me to the space where I can’t tell up from down, and light feels heavy… Where I’m just meandering and solitude is a friend. Floating peaceably along; …

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I sometimes visualize life as the spaces between raindrops that we often overlook in our haste to get out of the rain. Space is eternal, infinitesimal opportunity in its existence. We forget to realize that storms cleanse our inner lens so that the sunlight in our future shines more brilliantly.   Written 19 January 2019

I don’t search for failings in people, those make themselves evident without prompting… No, what I look for are the hidden attributes that make them unique, humanly imperfect. Flaws are attractive, only in that they refuse to hide themselves from others, and so they force their owners to accept them rather than trying to change …

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March 24, 2019

Wisps of soul memory

flicker through flames of indigo.

Frequencies elevate;

Echoes of wavelength

heighten the potentiality hidden


that shine through persona

like the fiery hues

of my unique pigment

immersed in the sun’s rays.

Threads of old soul

lace through the fiber of my new being.

My royalty is humble,

its raiment a bejeweled aura

adorning my crown;

Upon a quiet eye without sight

opened by its own perceived vision –

my dreams never let me forget

who my ancestry was…

My state of being

thrumming with the kindred awareness

of matrilineal Nubian vibrations.


Written 27 November 2018
Inner Peace

True wealth is the wealth of the soul


Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.


A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity


Art Studio Dumfriesshire