I abhor when others dishonestly mispaint the world as only beautiful

As if avoiding true ugliness humans endure should be hidden

And their pain and suffering erased from everyone else’s view of realities

To prevent darkness from infecting and causing even more tragedies  

Albeit others oft recreate a more palatable truth of what they ingest  

In order to stomach the illusions, that they themselves afford to live

What then of the efforts for those who’ve climbed out of hell

While all others were busy ignoring their cries for help

Those brave souls that wear unseen scars from their battles

Is not their choices to resist obvious fallacies more courageous         

Are not warriors as ascetically beautiful as an unblemished model   

Or an inspiring soul that has overcome a pervading presence        

How so disingenuous to use our beliefs to mismeasure the lives of others

And avoid the task of truly seeing our ignorant selves in… a mirror


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by jorien Stel on


Clarifying distortions


How easy it is to fake glossing over the obvious   

Learning those cues from our nurturing parents or friends    

Only taking brief notice of the far-off horizon we never intended to discover

It’s simply an unwillingness to accept what we’re really after

Our humanistic failing to recognize the true distinct matter that matters

Between our life and our true overinflated journeys  

Whereas people just seem to conflate them into one convenient stop

If they go to “that spot “somehow their lives are suddenly richer

I would posit, life and journeys are not all that different

However, you must refresh them in their proper context

Places are merely environmental destinations, like the Moon or Mars

These are just attributes left behind by others and time alike

They’ve just commercialized clutter people learn as children to desire  

They require nor provide any sort of refinement or secret answers

We’ve foolishly come to view people as mere objects like rocks to be skipped

Over the surface of time and break up our childish boredom

But “life” is a short hallway throughout an unknown expanse  

Where the real jewels and values are meant to be collected

People’s spirits are our “true journeys” to love and experience

Yet people venture out into the vast openness looking for fools’ gold

Then come back bragging about all the life-altering things they learned

They romanticize their travels and speak about exotic things

 But somehow, they never express or live that knowledge gained

Albeit some may embark into a new philosophy- briefly

People venture because it provides them a placebic sense of control

Or like trinkets to garner narcissistic fodder from others

Places help us justify some faked need of change for ourselves

After all, we can intellectualize anything we dare desire appropriate

But- what we’ll remember and cherish most of all

Is the transit to and fro with “someone” more so than the place visited

These places are romanticized dirt and rock or color and glitter

The real journey loved and lived was the accompanying person(s)

We have forgotten how fleeting and unique lives are, until they’re gone

How we fail to venture into the depths of those closest to our hearts

And create lives worth taking with us, in our own departures

We’ve fallen so in love with the suitable idea of being in love- is enough  

Without daring to wade the journey of someone…out of love itself

Poet of the Light © 2023

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I’m followed by a silhouette that leads me

Into strange places, I’d rather not be

Somehow, I lack the courage to speak up

By the very doubt, I’d be listened to attentively

Albeit, it means me no harm, I’m certain

And much like me, it too feels lost and abandoned     

Stranded amongst kinships turned strangers

As associates that turnabout their faces

All- who see us mostly like passing mirages    

As we stroll past their cold radiation    

Still, we smile and nod politely

Understanding their fear and insecurities

Are the dark pretensions they abhor

And they’re too blind to see…in mirrors


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Ardalan Hamedani on

Rustless buckets

Oh, how the aridity of our minds grows  

As it becomes peculiarly stranger

All the lies we’ll tell ourselves and others

Mindlessly accepting a selfish guise of- love thy self first

In a concerted effort to minute- everyone else life

And evade the truth of our saddest emotions

Or avoid being humiliated for our innate tears

In fear, we lack getting advanced authorized permission

To acknowledge our own authentic humanity

When our transient minds, bodies, and souls naturally grieve

While we will stop at nothing to display happiness

Births, vacations, marriages, promotions, and graduations

Spend countless dollars to embellish each one- or all

What a fickle species we make of ourselves to heaven above

We blurt things- evolved, progress, dominion like used car salesman

Without batting an eye during our deceptive fallacies

Have we learned nothing of the buried dead and wars yet?

Or dying children in third world counties or ours in local streets?

To what end will our blissful ignorance lead us when in our end

Family, friends, maybe even enemies left behind will still grief our loss

Hidden or otherwise in their own time and fashion anyways

If we are going to pretend, couldn’t it be in earnest betterment?

Or have we truthfully sold out the souls we say… we love?

Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Marina Leonova on


I’ve crossed an invisible line of a man’s time

Whereas backwardly I can view clearly

At my conceded self and life both

With some keen sense of truer insight

That once I lacked, not long ago

Earlier when I assuredly I knew it all

Of those things, I never grasped or understood

Until I walked a mile or so down dusty roads

I was unaware laid strewn everywhere

Most of which nefariously circled back                          

To where I wanted to be last- again and again

Yes, life is God’s labyrinth of games for juvenals        

And time is complicit to be entertained

By immature jesters claiming … to know everything


Poet of the Light © 2023


There are just some things

We discover unexpectedly

That can summate so much

Speaking on behalf of our hearts

Or maybe our lingering thoughts

Morning was duller than normal

And coffee had infused the air        

Something felt off, yet still right

So, I sat at the table in my chair    

Staring out of the framed pane

I noticed a cloudy mist stalled

Directly over a meadow chasm

I thought to myself, how apropos

Mother has hung up…my portrait  


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Maria Orlova on


Progress- what a vulgar term at best

We’ve exceeded our needs for wants

Doing the unnecessary because we can

Obtuse and deaf, hell-bent and dammed

We’re our own evolved frenzied monster

Sporting a devilishly insatiable hunger

Technology has beaten down palisades    

That once safeguarded all the huminites

Of arts, photographers, poets, painters

Sculptures, languages, music, speakers  

AI’s can simultaneously act as all of them

With their unblemished flare and skills

Explore new gardens of unknown galaxies

We’ve achieved outsourcing… ourselves


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Maxime Lecomte on

Tight roping

Trauma can leave indelible marks

In our lives as well as on our souls

From early learning, life bestows

Resetting of our moral innateness

Creating built-in gaps for escape

Self-justification to ignore a truth

And most often its triggered by fear

Fear of punishment, fear of our loss

Fear of abandonment or our reality

Gaps- to make our default blind spots

Primarily in relationships, or things    

We’ll normally (by default) accept lies

To evade any conflict or internal pain    

Or blame ourselves for ill acts of others

Proxy gaslighters protect… loved liars


Poet of the Light © 2023

Note: All trauma is inexcusable abuse.

Photo by Marcelo Moreira on


Most of my life, sooner or later

I’d find myself in the wake(s)

Of undesirable laced reality  

Or unfinished conversations

Memories of a few yesterdays   

And captivating connections  

Loss of significant loved ones

Odd misunderstood solitudes

Smokey wisps of my daydreams

Meaningless riverside strolls

Shadow seat under a lone tree

Bodily warmth of misspent love    

When I was still young- believing  

Life would forever taste… sweet


Poet of the Light © 2023

Rhetorical sips

Five p.m. and I’m eating breakfast

Doing daily choirs as quick as I can

To get drunk from neon moon nights

Followed by shots of my old memories

Some too strong to swallow so easily

Into a dozen sonnets, my soul has bled  

In lines and rhymes making no sense

Bloodshot eyes come the morning light

Finally got tired enough to fall asleep

These are the ways- I find my escape

I live love on a thousand inked lines

But feel like I’m only dying in my life

Maybe something wrong with my process

Of living life with the time…I’ve got left     


Poet of the Light © 2023