Big Apple

As she flew  through a sea of clouds leaving  fantasy behind

She raced against the clock 

and whisked to beat time

The journey seemed forever 

a never ending tale. 

Before she reached her target

Her cape began to tear. 

She flew 10,000 miles and 17 days

 a premedidated outcome

she knew she couldn't stay

He was her hero

Sweet charming and kind

Ran through burning buildings

just to pass time

Immeresed in the moment

she became unhinged

there was no turning back

her ignited her within

Her telescopic eyes

allowed her to see

if it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be free

Free to fly away

if only for a day

and find a place worthy of her ray

The smoke began to settle

the turbulence set in

a borough in Mannahatten

is where her story ends

Tints of sephia

Tints of sepia   

When I reflect on those sepia tinted memories of us 

To the time when I was happy 

When we were happy, I am breathless. 

As I retrace the ink across your back
your memory radiates my soul  

your voice resounds in my head 

it annihilates me

I relive the laughter 

 the tears the ...lies 

 I adjust the intensity on my heart 

I breathe 

 I erase the nostalgia  

And filter out the memories 

The illusion of who you were fades 

The man I thought you were 

The one you led me to believe in 

Is now gone. 

I fight! 

Your absence pains me 

It strengthens me 
it mutates me 

I breathe!  

 Our unfinished business remains
The ink has dried and those tints, those memories

strategically added into my life 

no longer manipulate the way I feel

 I see 

They were perfectly balanced complimenting the illusion  

I now see the technique that was involved, 

The real image 

As I look back on those tints I now see 

Beauty that that real image holds 

The beauty that was there along  

Me! 

Angel

The swish of her wings resonated against the Eastern shore
Amidst a world of chaos she found tranquility by her own accord

She sat along the coast looking up into the sky
she held her stoic tongue
hoping time would pass her by

An angel among the masses
screeched a high pitch sound        
a warning if you will
amnesty was bound

Unbeknownst to her danger lurked before her eyes
surrounded in a sea
full of enemies and lies

The distant cries grew weary
The fallen angel turned around
she tried to fly away
her tears just hit the ground

As she sat against the rock
and turned her feather to a quill
she scribed a little note
the words....
free will

Gypsy Traveler

June 23, 2013

Within the past year I have climbed a mountain, seen some breath taking views, have had the chance to try “Authentic” soul food and have explored the US in ways I would never have imagined. Along the way I have meet some amazing people that I would have never met.  I am a real life Dora the Explorer.

 Many people tell me that I am lucky, that they would kill to have  a job like mine. Well, I am here to say that although travelling for a living opens the mind and soul in ways you would never imagine. The tough part, of travel is the life that you leave back home. The friends, family , and patterns that you have grown so accustomed to. Travel changes you.

I no longer view the people and things in my life the way I once did. I no longer feel attached to certain objects, people or ideas because I have realized that there is a whole world out there waiting to be explored. 

My goal as a writer is to let these travels shape me. I am going to be the adult version of Dora and let inspiration find me….

Happy Travels!

Antuiqe

Her beauty was that of a porcelain doll


A composition of molded ideas to be looked at

Not touched



With strings of hair

Patched with clay

A foreign object

Here to stay



She was placed in a box

Bound by her words

Set on a mantle and hid from the world



A life like version

Turned to stone

A Gorgon sister

Without a home



The seasons changed

The box collected dust

Eventually forgotten

Lost in his lust



Adorned in her beauty

Sitting there for months

Waiting to be noticed

If only for a night



Contained by her beauty

The box began to cry

Crying out for help

How to get inside



A pretty girl

Living in a box

Grandeur was promised

Freedom; its price

Mississippi/old iris

The sincerity in his eyes
could make any woman cry
a window to his soul
filled with stories untold

A leader of the pack
an instinct to attack
the scent of his skin
a reminder of him


After hearing his tale
an old familiar tune
she wanted to run
it was way too soon


But his eyes didn't let her
they mesmerized her mind
bringing her deeper
time after time

She got lost in his presence
a victim by chance
afraid to move forward
tired of the dance

She opened her heart
to place in his hands
but faith didn't let her
get sucked in his trance

A phone call was made
it shifted their mood
A label was made
her Prince was untrue


Instead of crying she picked up her pen
she began to write
here's what it said.

Dear Cinderella

I hate to break the news

Your king is a fool, but I was fooled too.

After seeing the truth from the Icy blue eyes

I began to believe

but his truth their all lies

You claim that I broke your humble abode

What's there to break?

 There was nothing to hold

An emotional predator is what he can be

Our union by chance, I'm glad I am free

I know you may hate me but I'm not to blame

I merely got sucked in his selfish game

Your castle is stained with feathers and glass

Mind where you step don’t be so crass!

My reality has set; it's time that I go.

I guess I was here for nothing

 But show

My heart cries for you I wish you could see

I was once there,

You were like me.

Don’t be fooled by his thousand yard stare

He will  kept chasing
that tired old tail

Amazon Princess

He conquered her Amazon with his cold Nordic tongue
A modern day Viking A warriors son




He sailed her horizon in the dead of the night
A nomad by day an "Odin" by night
He raided her trust and traded her heart
In the name of Asgard is why he would fight



She was naive
And got lost in his world
A warrior Princess running the herd



Don't trust the Viking her (fastnandi,) told
But she didn’t see his passionless soul

He reached her horizon and crossed her by chance
Looked over the edge and continued to dance
She was stripped of her Kransen and ready to wed

But there was no feast the passion was dead


There was no ball
No lovers dance
He was concerned with a concubines' glance



When she couldn't tame his cold Nordic soul
She kneeled to the ground and raised her bow-.
Took aim at his pride

And finally let go...