poetry, power, psychic poetry


Bring me to my tribe,
where first looks turn into starry eyes,
of the cosmic similarities
We share inside.

I have let the heat of my difference go untouched;
in fear that the warmth of who I am is too much.

It feels like protecting yourself
when your arms are lopped off.
Like the sculpture of Venus de Milo,
you continue to stand bravely,
Taking every verbal cut and scoff.

I don’t want this wear
to mold me into someone
I am not.
Bring me to my tribe,
enough I have fought.


poetry, power, psychic poetry

The Concord

The concord of thoughts swell my head into a fusion of sensory suffocation.

Pop; goes those aware.



The Fourth Plane: We all don’t end up in the same dimension

Let’s talk about the other side of the veil.

For some of you, maybe you think that when you die you are just simply dead, fine. But I bet if you are reading this, you are probably aware that energy can not be created nor destroyed. So where does that energy go?

To a whole other dimension, beeyotch!

Continue reading “The Fourth Plane: We all don’t end up in the same dimension”


How Translating for Spirits Works: A Game of Telephone

The question I get asked the most is, “Do you see spirits?”


I’ve only ever seen one spirit clearly. My Guardian, two years ago just before I was admitted into the psychiatric ward.

Continue reading “How Translating for Spirits Works: A Game of Telephone”

poetry, power, psychic poetry

Power #007