Ruins Of a Forgotten City 

When I create art it is usually in random spaces of time surrounding emotional overflow which needs to be expelled. Free flow ability is an important element for me to be able to live a self-healthy lifestyle.

When a local woman came across my art and contacted me, she told me that she found my recurring theme of the anime warrior compelling in regards to her child, who has struggled with personal mental situations. As the mother shared why she wanted me to do a piece for her teenager, I could relate both as a mother myself and as the once raging teenager.

I was thrilled to find out that the teenager also loves anime, color and is sensitive to the world. I was even more excited when mom gave me creative freedom.

I really love coding pieces with positive elements and energy. There are patterns and codes in old sketches, in new paintings and even in old journals. This piece is filled with strength and self worth to be passed on to a young person who is struggling inside just like I did and still do.

I don’t do many pieces for others, so when I have the opportunity to do so, I feel humbled and honored. This one flowed and spilled out. The process was cathartic. I finished it feeling re-empowered in parts of myself.

I am an advent child, standing in the ruins of a forgotten city. I cherish everything.

Untitled
8 x 10 stretched canvas
Elements: acrylic, metallic oil acrylic and velvet

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Sea Angel

This video of “Sea Angel” is an audio poem from my poetry book and accompanying spoken word cd, “Dusted Shelves”, which I published in 2011. This particular poem was written during a time when I was deeply depressed. I was in the cusp of writing out childhood trauma in “Cult Child”, my memoir. I listen to this piece now and what strikes me is that my suffering was so debilitating, the thought of being taken under by the sea felt like a comfort to me. Yet, life and hope have always called, and so the emotion became this piece instead. To those who suffer with depression, PTSD, anxiety and more, keep fighting. I remember you daily.

She Died Today

Exactly eight years ago today she died.  I was at work when I got the phone call.  It was expected.  She guilted and ate herself into diabetes and an early death.  She was only 65.  I used to call her Mom, then Mother, and now I call her by her first name.   Maybe it’s my way of disconnecting in the hopes I can get through the rest of this writing journey to expel the rest of the pain.   I woke up this morning feeling tearful, raw, alone inside my soul, and so I start this journey of being blatantly vulnerable through the fear of mockery and judgment.  I wade through this mist splayed open to this journey of vlogging through The Rise.

Solitary Repsite

There are those for whom
The night opens up her arms
Embracing sadness
In the singing wind charms

For me she is closing

Closing the spaces
I once shared
Closing the trust
I once spared

She speaks of oneness
Now I know there is
No such concept
Where once I believed
I was emphatically deceived

I am not one
With the envy of the black
I am not in sync
With the attacks
Or the aftermath

I am a retracted rose bud
Surrounded by iron gates
Once open for entrance
Now closed to escape

I refuse to claim
The same energy of the envy
The discord and sick minds
I am no longer blind

I cannot be bitten
Lest I allow myself be smitten
And so I raise the bridge
Over the moat of my soul

There will be no more arrivals
To weaken my survival
No smiles to entice
Just to sink into my skin
A blood lust for my spirit
I fight against in this life

The watchers wait in silence
In the hopes I will give in
But the ending has arrived and
They’ll never be allowed back in

Mistakes have brought me here
Back inside the cave
Where all the secret memories
Are buried; a mass grave

There is no love more daring
No armor built so strong
To pull me into deception
Just to break my tender arms

War has made me stalwart
As I touch each wound and scar
Weeping in the solitude
Beneath this moon and stars

I know from whence I’ve traveled
And soon I will return
To be quietly unraveled
As their soulless wicked burns

Ashes into ashes
And dust into dust
I close my heart to block
The pulling of their lust

Back into the fluid
Of the amniotic sack
My death becomes my birth
As I trace my footsteps back

Back into invisible
Back into the light
Back into the safety
Of this solitary respite

v.k poetry

The Voices

What do you allow your inner voices to say to you?  They sound a bit like this, yes?  Are they telling you positive things?  They should be!  If not, you have the control to listen only to the loving voices.

Rapt

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and that was
the day she stopped speaking
abruptly
out of the blue
without warning

and the silence
hit the rooms like tunnels
occasional echoes of laughter
held only in memories

no songs
nothing

just silence

just a long, accepting
breath that understood
how very few were
really listening
not with ears
but with heart

and so she bathed
in the rapt absence
of her own voice
ringing melodic
angel choirs
in the corridors of
her mind

and she became
one with herself
because in the silence
so much is heard

Vennie Kocsis