Painting Poems like Picasso

Here are some poems I’ve written recently and not so recently. They reflect my mind that often wanders in the darkest of places and the brightest, there’s never much of an in between. Enjoy.

Jesus Christ

The places I’ve found God

are buried at the bottom of a bottle of tequila or wrapped up inside a blunt.

When I’m feeling adventurous, I sift through the burnt pastel pages of trauma.


I’ve found God!

Oh, Holy is thee at the end of a back-wood when it’s 2 a.m. and my nightmares got the best of me.

It (God) popped up like a ghost from my past.

I’ve found God looking at a clock (me) and saw numbers that fell into sequence.

I wonder when I’ll stop finding it

When will it find me?

– simple thoughts


I listened for a sign 

I looked for a sound and,

Took in the morning air.

I danced for my feet

Latched them down onto the cement 

And carved 

A rain dance,

A freedom dance,

A praise dance,

In the pavement below me…

All in one move. 

Putting one foot in front of the other. 

It feels like the first time…

Wasabi Peas

The sound of silence is louder on a misty afternoon in San Francisco.

My thoughts create a smooth pitter-patter in my mind, synonymous to a one-two-step.

I left my headphones at home so I have to listen now

Listening to the crunch of my wasabi peas as they enter my mouth and the

Light footsteps I take.

Thinking, she’s thinking, so much at one time and

Listening, she’s listening to the wayward song of a bird humming backwards in a distant memory as she flips fast through the distinct memories that pile in her mind

Remembering, she’s remembering her life as it once were. Sometimes she cannot fathom how fast and how soon things can change.

I stop thinking of her.

I grab my keys, twist, then pull.

I wonder about her briefly again as my hand grabs the doorknob.

Silence is still. It flourishes in my house.

I make a racket and bring out my stereo to dance away the thoughts and feelings that I might actually be falling in love again.

Finally falling in love with her.

Her being me.

Let me say that again,

Her, being me.

So I’m happy about it, even when she gets sad now.

– Lost & found

Yeah, it’s something to Rely on

She always prayed when she was scared.

Forcing out the word of God, freeing her vulva, shaking chords. 

Soft and sweet she calls. 

Sometimes she comes with salty tears and a drop to her knees on the cold wood floor, 

Her knees dented like the sides of her cheeks. 

She always prayed when she was scared. 

Sometimes hard. 

Sometimes soft and sweet. 

– Cause a racket in the spirit and the spirit shows you the way

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