Dueling Quotes

Just so y’all know, I quite love T.S. Eliot…He made so many pieces of art & beauty converted into language; & language was the first intangible thing that men & women with souls made that became a cornerstone of the ethos we might begin to call…the soul.  He’s particularly Piercing to me because he wrote about our work succinctly & sharp as a pen…He wrote about Writers & the Life we take a gamble on because we would literally give up trying to live as anything but – a writer. Nothing else feeds our soul like opening a vein & picking up the Quill.

The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.



My blood is black as squid ink; a drop is a word on my page.



Heart as Hero

There are no plucky do gooders winning the day anymore. The ones that were all on our side have disappeared. Consult your crystal ball. What do you think our Lands & Lives look like in twenty years if we stay the course we’re on? Well first off, we’ll be missing some islands & some coastal regions but I didn’t start this to go off on political tangents…at least not yet.

I want to know what the condition of the human heart could be in that time…just twenty years…envision it. Less & less people are looking to their hearts for the correct guidance in situations across every creed, duty & belief system. It’s like people put their hearts on mute when they go into court, boardrooms, policing engagements, churches, schools, and when dealing with those most trodden upon by this dream of life. These are all situations where the ‘Heart Muffs’ shouldn’t even be on your person…in these situations your heart should be a loud & clear voice…your leading voice…the voice you let form your words, reactions & behaviors. For one whole day just try it…even if you barely even remember know how to tune into the frequency. Though, if you’re reading this then you probably can still hear your heart…but there’s no harm in passing on the message to someone who can’t or isn’t listening…& I’m not talking about getting people to like my page or follow it or any Social Media hullabaloo; I am talking about having a conversation or a level headed debate with anyone from your partner or child to your coworker or friend (even possibly the mirror) about if they can hear the voice of their heart…do they listen…why not or good on you…just make your case because it matters whether you do or not. Although, I believe you can & will do this because it has to start somewhere & there’s no reason it can’t be you…choose one day where you listen to your heart during every interaction with another human beings & see how different that day is than the one before it. If I’m meditating on this correctly, then the two days will be in stark contrast to each other. If you can do it…more can. If it caught on & the hearts became the loudest voices in every hall, room & interaction…then yeah, in twenty years we could well be on our way to a better world while mourning the people & islands we needlessly lost…the people & islands We The People lost & “We The People” are NOT powerless. In the end, we’d be heartily working towards not damaging our lands or each other in any way…Because the heart is MADE cruel but it never wants to be…so let it speak its mind. Sometimes, hearts have wiser things to say than the head. Consider 20 years of tuning in & listening & acting…consider the alternative…we’ve already reached our event horizon for the planet…must we cross our own as well?

Please feel welcome to turn this into a conversation…fire at will in the comments section.

The truth about me is…

I see the world through a Painter’s eyes & process it with a Poet’s Heart…life can prove to be quite a harsh place for the soul…It scratches & wears down your soul, at times, but the Beauty is Addictive. I feel for everyone I encounter. Everyone I encounter is a teacher if I’ll open up and allow them to be. I Empathize with Everyone I talk to & I Think about Everything -LEVi

I am a published Satirist & published Poet. I’ve always loved writing & it never intimidated me. Even if I’m not inspired, I can sit down & within 10 minutes my heart has opened & I’m pouring it into the keyboard…its who I am & I want to share my gift with others & do something that I think is worthy. I’m a physically disabled American & all I want is visibility. I have 2 or 4 heckered backgrounds that are unbelievable when you read my satire & the insightful ones will see that I thread story arcs through my poetry collections. I arrange my collections like a musical set list, so that you can read all the single pieces & then pan out & discover I’ve hidden a story arc throughout.
I’m a left aligned satirist & center aligned poet…I really enjoy writing poems & making them take on shapes like something as simple as a ball or more complex like a pagoda.

I love words & I love playing with them more so. You will find alliteration, always rhymes, double entendre & creative wordplay in my work!

Enjoy what’s to come…

Salty Black Lies

Salty Black Lies

The blackened tears of a made up face
A lie expected by the viewer
For the wearer knows as these things go
Time marches & truths grow fewer
As the laugh lines grow & gather close
A woman must make up her mind
Take the ravages of age with steely grace
Or wear a lie that’s felt so kind
But lies breed lies & the mask grows thick
Revealing truth for anyone to see
The lies of the mask make it heavy & fragile
It cracks & crumbles without dignity
Lies weaken exactly where believed in the most
The forehead, the eyes and the smile
And two black lines as the spell finally breaks
As a woman cries truth for a mile
Once she was hiding & hadn’t the bravery to stop
She relied more & more on the lie
But the weight to make & break a mask everyday
Brings all painted ladies to cry
A cracked foundation slapped on cracked foundation
Not judgement but empathy should lend
For the spell she fell under was for rape & for plunder
He convinced her that age was the end
She can’t be blamed for fearing a man’s expectations
When threats of loneliness loom so large
When you see her true face through the stripes & the flakes
Her lie revealed should carry no charge
You know who to blame because they make the game
Few see wisdom in fighting the grain
So when you see the blackened tears of her made up face
Know in defiance you have grace to gain
For if more women embraced their waltzes with Time
They’d discover their own source of power
Men can strut & fret all they want on the stages they built
But brevity’s the beauty & strength of a flower
The honest journey from bud to beauty & bravely fallen petals
It’s forgotten that next comes nectar & fruit
But most of all as we reach the flowers wilting in Fall
They carry seed for the next flowers in suit
So don’t cut them down to seal in wax or in glass
Don’t buy the falsehood of eternal youth
A confidence trick that grows ever more grotesque
Keeping flowers from living their truth
Let your tears run clear with pride & with joy
Smash your masks for emotional highs
See experience & wisdom instead of weakness & failings
Never tell those two salty black lies


PP Figures

PP Figures

Joan of Ark & Oscar Wilde they walked into a bar.
Freud & Jung were serving pure cocaine & moonshine by the jar.

They named their dive The Pleasure Principle for those seeking a Collective Unconscious.
PP’s had a special cocktail called “Dimensional Emotion” it made the clientele obnoxious.

Sat at the piano were Socrates & Bowie singing “Oh You Pretty Things”.
David played whilst Socrates used his “method” coaxing all but him to sing.

A meditating Zombie Bhudda in the corner proclaimed “We’re all already dead”.
The fat and happy deity literally found Nirvana inside Lizzie Borden’s head.

At a table for one sat Madame Curie bathing all in her radiating absinthe glow.
A pig named Picasso hit on this FoxFire Lady while inviting her to his picture show.

Miss Arc sat sweating by the hearth lost in conversation with lapping tongues of fire.
Wilde perched himself atop a barstool cracking jokes at Sigmund’s “phallus desire”.

General Patton & Gloria Steinem played strip poker to prove equality’s point.
In the end she wore her signature shades as a naked Patton rolled & passed her a joint.

Daylight crept up through the window…the PP’s version of sounding last call.
History was a rent boy loitering outside swinging saloon doors ready to be made by all.