Your kindness is like thick mud
You leave traces of of love wherever you walk
& All kinds of things will come along and try to wipe it away over time
But those little grains of sand rock–
The tender sentiments of your existence
Will always remain on the ground you walked upon
To get to where you are today.

“Angry –Feminist. Radical. Dramatic. Hippie. Bitch.”

Angry –Feminist. Radical. Dramatic. Hippie. Bitch.

Call me whatever you want, I understand. & I’m not mad.

Because it is so much easier to pretend like this is all “not that serious” than have to wake up every morning and live each day knowing you are a vital contribution towards your own creative deprivation, capitalistic robbery, rape and violent perpetuating culture, and institutionalized oppression.

It is so much easier to say I’m “over-reacting” than to admit we are killing ourselves every single day—with every bite of the processed pesticide food we eat, with every false notion of beauty we conceive every time we view anything in the media, and with every use less fact you fill your head with to try and please a scantron in a factory designed school system….

We’re in this frustration together

You are also responsible for the beauty,  creativity, and compassion in this world, but how to decide to use it is entirely up to you. I want to make something beautiful with you, I want to connect. I want to share stories and make love, gardens, art, and community– where success is based on happiness and people start sharing again.


I Fell In Love With The Man On the Moon ( Update)

(See original inspiration here)

I fell in love with the man on the moon,
I used to gaze up at him when I needed comfort,

But the man on the moon is transgender,
& the moon’s real shape is a triangle,

But this was hidden by the government,
And now I just comfort myself

And I look up at the night sky with curiosity,
Wondering how silly I must look.

man-in-the-moon-gallery-three man-on-the-moon

A Tuesday Afternoon Poem

It started out small,

At first it was hard to get started,

I thought it wasn’t going to work because it wasn’t big enough,

I could see it gasping for life in front of me,

I watched.

I sat still and watched it dance around like it had a story to tell,

Whipping itself from left to right trying to see if anybody cared,

That it was truly struggling,

Nobody was around & nobody could see what it was going through,

i watched it struggle to barely stay alive in the middle of a cold wind,

& just as i thought it was about to die,

It manipulated it’s oppressor to it’s advantage,

Using the forces it was previously fighting against as fuel,

& growing bigger and stronger with every gust of it’s enemy,

Never getting smaller because the only way is up from here,


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A Haiku For YOU

You’re fucking awesome,

And not everyone knows it,

You don’t need them to.


Everyone is talking, but no one is listening,

Everyone is thinking but no one is breathing,

Thoughts are like the ocean shore line,

Never still and always moving,

Coming up to the tips of your toes only to recede back into the unknown,

Right when you think the water is about to touch you,

Never questioning what would have happened if it did,

It wants to be still and no one knows why,

Tsunamis of doubt, discontent, and negativity continually arise,

Yet nobody ever tells the Atlantic ocean to calm down,

Because it is that amazing? But even the most magnificent things need help,

Simply marveling at its ‘beauty’ but not thinking about how it got there,

In amazement at all the life sustained in it but unaware that’s its its own universe,

Just star at the beauty but don’t confront the pollution,

Don’t pay any attention to the rocking waves of anxiety,

The crashing sounds of confusion,

Asking for some kind of guidance,

Pretend that that bitter salty taste of it doesn’t exist,

& neglect how much it burns when it touches a cut,

As if that is not a cry for help or a sign that you BOTH wounded,

Surf, splash, swim, sail, on, inside, and all throughout it,

Invading all it’s being without ever asking permission,

Vacationing off of it as if it doesn’t have its own story to tell,

Distracted by all the colorful life nurtured inside it,

Not noticing the prevalence of death and despair it wants to reveal,

All the trash, corpses, and memories it is burdened with,

By catastrophes nobody ever tries to empathize with or understand,

Just act like they don’t exist within this incandescent body of life,

Not wanting to admit even the most beautiful things can be so ugly,

Marvel and gawk at the glistening blue water without ever asking if it changes colors,

Without ever wondering if it just wants to be still.