End of Book 3 + Special Announcement

Well friends,

We’ve made it to the end of book 3. This one especially important to me. I’ve tried to go bigger and better every time I’ve done one of these. What began as a flippant scribbling on a blog wall when I first came to North Carolina has blossomed first into a small poetry book, followed by a second poetry book with matching audio. Now, thanks your continued encouragement, I’ve decided to really go for the gusto. I’ve submitted my book for legit publishing. Ever since I was in high school, working on my first literary tome, I’ve dreamed of getting published through a major press. Now, years later, I’m going at it again, and I think it stands a really good chance.

I’ve definitely learned a lot over the years. Most of all: do what you all and don’t quit. And even more so than that, give it all to God, because He loves you and He is a good Father, more than capable of directing our steps to greener pastures.

I’m so excited to see where this next step in the journey leads.

Blessings to you all,


The Truth Behind the Eyes

He marched into the cave, full of muscle and sweat. The last tendrils of light glinted off his biceps and chest. He tightened his grip on his broadswords and walked farther in.

The cave was hot and damp, heated by the fetid breath of the beast. The lichen-slickened ground made for a hard journey. The sides of the cave were jagged and warped from the beast’s thick hide and claws.

The first thing he heard was silence. He strengthened his resolve. The silence was always the worst, but he had come this far. He would have his trophies. For the villagers. For himself. To prove that he was a man. His member surged beneath the loincloth as he thought of it.

Deeper, ever deeper. Sensing nothing until finally he heard it: the beast’s strained-raspy and hissing breath. He strengthened his back and stood erect. He waved his sword into the void.

“I am Bukanin son of Orinshield. I command you to come out beast,” he said.

Nothing. Breath.

“I command you to come out.”

The breathing stopped. A growl replaced. Bukanin gripped his sword.

The beast roared. Stomp-stomp-stomp-stump. Rrrrrrrrrrumble. The Beast charged. Bukanin charged.

He met the beast, with all its talons and fury. Roaring. Ranging.

Its hideous eyes. Thousands of them. Its hunched back. Its tiled and armor-like hide. It teeth and talons. Its rage and fury and hate. Bukanin challenged them all.

They fought there in the dark. The creature was used it, feeding off the energy supplied by bioluminescent mushrooms growing on its skin and in the cave around. But the warrior held his own. This would be his first beast, but it would not be his last. The village was full of dead animal trophies. He would not let them down.

They stabbed and slashed at one another. The blood! The blood! Green, animal blood blending with red human blood. Spraying against the walls. Drenching each other’s forms. They were both mad, crazed. Their draining fluids only made them halluncinate victory.

They sparred for ours until finally Bukanin gained the upper hand, hamstringing the foul creature, bringing it down to its side. He stood over it. Weak due to lack of blood. Weak from the dying adrenaline rush. All he had to do was finish it and it could all be over.

He towered over the creature.

“Finally beast you are slain!” he said, waving his broadswoard high.

He climbed atop it and flipped his weapon about, pointing fearsome blade at his opponent to end it.

He stared into its many eyes. A long time. It was so near death, it had scarcely the energy to keep them open. He could relate, having scarcely the energy to stand, let alone kill the thing.

He stood there, in the death position, breathing; then, he flung the sword aside.

He collapsed atop the beast and slept.


He did not return to his village for a long time. Rumor spread that he had been eaten. Rumor spread that he had been overcome. Never did they fancy the truth: that he and the beast spent many of their days hobbling the hills together. Many years later, a young man, out to prove himself found them, offering to end the beast’s life.

When Bukanin decline, the young man branded him a traitor. Bukanin accepted this word.

He was who he was, and if that was who he was, then so be it.

Later down the road, the villagers came and hunted them down. They slew them, for a hunter to befriend his prey was too much for them. They laughed and cheered and drank over the bodies of the dead. They had righted the Universe.

But the last thing Bukanin ever saw was the beast looking back at him with all those many eyes. That was enough for him. That had always been enough. So he peacefully surrendered himself to his fate.

The Death of Stars

It was the age of the Apocalypse.

Stars, worlds were descending into choas.

Two beings, suspended in the void watched from the protection of a sparkling, blue glow.

It’s so sad, said Hypernea.

It’s the way of things, said Drax, the hate and weight of time itself gets the best of all of us. Even we get old, even we will die. One day.

What is the point? she said, what is the point of it all, if it all goes away.

The point is that we’re all here now, and we shall continue to be here until we descend into stardust.

Would you hold my hand? she said.

He was not the type to touch, but it did so. He could feel a strange warmth overtake them.

As the stars burned around her, she started to cry.

I’m afraid, she said.

But you are alive, he said.

Yes, she said. Would you kiss me?

He turned to her and looked into her eyes. O how they sparkled and shone. It was the fires burning around them, and something more. Something connected to the light.

He squeezed her hand and kissed her lips.

They kissed then. Slowly, passionately. Their fingers exploring each other’s bodies.

If tomorrow is our end, I’m so glad to have known you, he said.

Thank you for being my strength, she said, through all these eternities.

You’ve always been your own, he said. I’ve only had the good pleasure of seeing it sprout and grow.

They kissed as the world burned. Their fingers burning, their souls ablaze.

They gasped as they forms began blurring together, descending into one.

The fires around began drawing into their singularity.

They became a wormhole, a nexus of fire and light.

They smiled and laughed as they embraced, as the end drew night.

There was no choice but to laugh. What gain was to be had in fear?

They drew deeper into themselves, forsaking themselves, becoming the other.

I feel your soul, she said, how beautiful it is!

And you are the mother of all that is good and true, he said.

Their forms faded into light. Nothing concrete could be made of them. They were pure energy, the beginning of… beginning of…

Darkness raged around them. The singularity their love had created exploded out, casting starletts, fractions of light into the Universe.

When the stardust settled the lovers were no more, but darkness had abated. Planets formed. It was the beginning of things again.

They had done it. They had conquered death, by dying to themselves.

The Deeper You Go

There is a strange interplay to be found

between science and magic,

I could explain intimacy in terms of chemical reactions

Oxytocin is released

when an owner pets his dog,

when a child suckles at her mother’s breast,

when two people make love in the night

This oxytocin is the hormone responsible for bringing us closer together, for creating bonds,

but what service would I do to anyone to just leave it at that

Intimacy is so much more, and yet

still the simple matter of biology remains

Life is both an equation and an occasion,

a formula all people can enjoy.

Does knowing the inner working of a machine make it any less magical,

seeing the backstage of a performance any less engaging?

Indeed, tearing away the curtain, revealing the man at the controls

only makes it more beautiful,

if there is any beauty to be found in the first place.

That is the division between fact and fraud,

the latter can only take your so far

before the thrill expires,

whereas the former only gets more amazing

the deeper you go.

Dark Figures


TWO HOODED FIGURES stare out at the horizon. The sun falls.


The dark is coming.


We will take him.

FIGURE #1 nods.


FIGURE #1 lights small fires around the campsite.


What is it like?


The dark? Evil.


But what is it like?

The FIGURE #1 does not respond.


FIGURE #1 sits and stares out into the darkness. FIGURE #2 paces.


It should be here by now.



A HISS sounds. FIGURE #1 stands.



Is that him?

FIGURE #1 stretches out his hands. LIGHT sprouts from his palms.



The hiss grows louder and louder. It is almost on top of them when it stops. FIGURE #2 spins about.


Where did it go?

With a shriek, the DARK attacks. Strikes FIGURE #1 in the chest, strikes FIGURE #2 in the face.

FIGURE #2 topples back and falls over, cradling his face.


My eyes! My eyes!

FIGURE #2 strikes the ground. He gropes about wildly.


Master, are you there? Master, please. I can’t see. Somebody. Please.


FIGURE #2 weeps over his master’s dead body. The DARK flutters away.


FIGURE #2 sits cross-legged and breathes. The fires burn around him.

TIME LAPSE: the sun rises, pinnacles, and descends on our hero.


FIGURE #2 remains sitting. The DARK takes on physical form, walks around him.


Do you give up?


Not as long as I have breath.

FIGURE #2 stands. The DARK laughs, grabs FIGURE #2’s throat.


What can you do? You are powerless.


Not as long as I am close enough to touch you.

The DARK looks down. FIGURE #2 places a hand upon his chest. LIGHT beams from FIGURE #2’s hand.



The DARK tries to get away. FIGURE #2 grabs him, hugs him tight. Light engulfs them both.


FIGURE #2 hobbles through the desert, slowly making his way through.

Bbbbbbb book! New Book on Amazon now.

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I am super pumped to announce that my new book is out on Amazon.  Six bucks buys you this super sweet compilation of poetry, short stories, scripts, and songs, and thanks to Prime, it can be at your doorstep in a matter of days. What I am most excited about is the chance to spotlight some pretty cool people I have met during my time on this spinning ball called Earth. THEY are definitely worth getting to know. Please, pick yourself up a copy today. Now, even =)

A Tale from the Hotel Lobby

He was an older man, armed with a laptop and an ill-fitting suit. She was his junior, toting a suitcase and a pair of designer heels.

He was seated in the lobby, hacking away at emails and trying to overcome his writer’s block, when she entered, full of confidence, wearing a yellow pencil skirt and a blue blouse, her head up, her gait quick.

He would not have noticed her had he not have cocked his head back to bemoan his lack of inspiration; but, he did and he saw her. She checked in and vanished around the corner.

He saw her again at breakfast, when she came down to grab a bite. She had changed her heels for flats, the pencil skirt for something red and flowy.

There was a newlywed couple sitting at the table between them. When they got up, the man not-so-casually scooted closer to her. They talked for a bit. She got up to take a Segway tour. He returned to his novel.

She did not return until evening. He feared he might not see her again. He wrote himself into exhaustion as the words began flowing through him as if in full depth and color.

He retreated to the reading area with a glass of wine. She entered, this time wearing tan jeans and no shoes.

She picked out a book on American history and started reading. He asked her about it. They talked for a while. He offered her a glass of wine. She said yes.

They returned to the lobby and sat and drank and talked and watched people go by. He put his arm around her shoulder.