The Mirror

I stare at him.

“You look tired,” I say.

He glances back with scorn. The Korean death stare penetrates the glass.

“Tired?” he scoffs, “Weak.”

I glare back and mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?” he snaps.

“Nothing…,” I mumble as I pick up my pen. It is weighed down by obligation now. Sleep seems a memory as the importance of responsibility takes over.

“You don’t even do anything! All you do is criticize and make me mad!” I shout.

“…of course, someone has to motivate you,” he says back.


The Daily Opinion – The Death Penalty


So who here feels sympathy for this guy?


Modern day Cathedrals of Steel, you stand as an example for man. But what example is it that you set? Who is being worshiped upon stage lit by flashing bulbs and never ending cameras. It matters not if housed between those walls are the most spiritual of people because they are not of the people anymore. They are religious movie stars and how amusing that so many in this world turn a blind eye to the mansions that mirror these plastic churches. Who dwells in that fine house that sits in the shadow of the MegaChurch that feeds it? Does God live there as well?

No… only a man. A man with other people’s money.

-Opinionated Man

I don’t intentionally skip comments

Just so people know… I don’t intentionally skip comments. Even if you are checking time stamps… I hope people realize I do make an attempt to respond to all comments on this website. No matter how ignorant, foolish, mundane, odd, humorous, random, scary, or terrifying. I appreciate anyone that leaves me a comment, remark, or threat and thank you.

-Opinionated Man


I want or do I need?

I seek as I begin to feen.

Irritation bubbles like a cloud.

Deciding who I hate from the crowd.

I see a red mist before my eyes.

Compassion, love… it all dies.

Cheerful laughter of children does not help.

It is all about me. Myself.

I shout within, hidden behind a mirror.

One day it will shatter. Finally bringing forth the horror.


Guest Post – st r u gg ling artist ii

                    my boy
          i am the shade of his sun
afraid he will burn, but

i am more than the smell of the bosom
          he has learned, to grow up and leave and cleave
                   to the woman of his heart 

                            i am the album of regrets and
                       and deficiency and forgiving

the roots that climb deep down parents' omissions

i am the redemption of the years my mother pushed 
through the choices she didn't have on grit and coffee

                 did you know? korean grandmothers don't
           have a name but Grandma in korean
     and tradition erased their childhood
  -- no one heard -- their cheerful silence was
their greatest gift to us

i am the epode on the piano
        G major 7 in improv and 
while i keep time for my family, i am the   sus pension
                                  that knows to resolve

                           the holistic heave of my jazz
              i can S C A T

                   i am the cherry blossoms that concede
              their soul in season, unabashed
         and the ones that could not    hold    on
                      their delicate dance down in death
                                  dust to dust    

                           i don't need self-esteem
                           i know Whose i am
                   but God doesn't have twins and
                   He doesn't make machines
         we are each His masterpiece

         no -- no, i don't want to roar
         that i am Woman

                           i just wish silence --
              license -- to put to paper my person

              who cares what i am
       but the earnest page
and the memories and dreams that ask not to die

i am the apology that i know what i want
         and have begun to sing before the cicada's time

                          i am the choices i live with
            am almost the books i wait
                                                 to write.

Holistic Wayfarer at