Category Archives: The Vagabond


Some call me missing

Some call me lost

Some just simply don’t care.

I am an enigma to even my own son

But they aren’t the only ones

That find me enigmatic.

I am a mystery to even myself

I alone do not know

Which world I belong in.

One in which my lovely Penelopia resides

Or one which is filled with enticing temptations.

Oh how dare my heart be split!

One world where I have

Only one true love

And millions of others that forget my existence.

One world with millions that care

Months on end.

But they aren’t sure of my true self.

I must make this trek across the seas

To test my true love for dearest Penelopia.

If the temptations get the best of me

I shall never see her again.

But if I make it I shall live

In prosperity for the rest of my years.

I am quiet and ready.

Let the best world consume me…


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Filed under The Romantic, The Vagabond

Letter to My Second Love

Dear second love,

There is so much for me to tell you

So I’m going to tell you in the most intricate poem possible,

The sestina. That’s right, one thing you must

Learn about me is that I am not afraid to display

My knowledge, let alone my accomplishments, on my left sleeve.


And I am pretty much pretentious all over my sleeve

When it comes to anything. That is one thing to understand if I were to love

You. I only drink loose leaf tea. I only buy the shiniest apple in the display.

And my coffee must be French pressed. So if you,

Or any of your friends, are skeptical about anything said, you must

Stop reading. But if not, I think a romance is still possible.


I am the kind of person that believes anything is possible.

Hiking in Europe, will do. Train to Big Sur will add a patch to my sleeve.

I even think that a plane from Portland to Portland is a must.

I think that it would only fit to share some of these experiences with love.

And whether or not that love is perhaps you,

We must wait and see what other things come into display.


For one thing, there is a huge mural right now on my display.

It is, believe it or not anything possible,

Something that might be quite unsettling to you.

It is one of those things that simply takes up my whole sleeve

Like it or not, this mural is my first love.

So if you disapprove, leave me if you must.


However, if you are so enticed, you must

Read on. My first love is my art, of which is on display

Or not. I put my pretentious skills and goals on life towards my first love.

You might get left behind during a late night project update, it’s possible.

At times, your patch may fall below my accomplishments on my sleeve,

But know that I am able to work through it with you, with my art and you.


My art will never leave me to sleep alone at night, and nor should you.

My art will always make me feel good and nourish me. You must,

In regards to my art, do the same. If so, you will be my art on my sleeve.

You will be the one, in a million theatres, on display.

Let me just tell you from experience, that anything is possible,

As long as you vie to be my first love, instead of second love.


The only thing between this love is you.

Anything is possible, but first you must

Display your romance on your sleeve.


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Filed under The Artist, The Romantic, The Vagabond


Breakfast blend
Brew me a fresh cup.
Last until eight, it’s eleven.
Lunchtime has never seemed complete without the fresh blend.
Five minutes to brew, one minute to drink. That is the way the coffee
grinds in my house.
Blending at breakfast and brewing at lunch, I enjoy drinking my liquid
throughout the day. Amount is just a number, nothing to live by.
That is why it is three and I have already had five cups, why I let my
teeth stain after every sip. I enjoy watching my black caffeine drip with every new
batch. Only a singular hour separating the greatness.
This process continues throughout the day. Hour by hour, cup by cup,watch as countless
mugs dirty. By the end I am tired and wasted from liters of caffeinated coffee.
This beverage stirs in my veins, creating a toxic formula that eats at my bones, making me
shorter with every great cup. There is nothing to do but simply say that I love it.

first published by York Daily Record:Teen Takeover Blog-December 2007

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Filed under The Philosopher, The Romantic, The Vagabond