Don’t Call Me (A Poor Man’s Copyright)

Verse 1

This knot in my heart and I don’t know what to do, it’ll never be enough for you.

But still I go every time, every time I tell myself, I’m strong, and I always fall.


So, if you ever loved me, when the fire begins to burn… Don’t Call Me.

I can’t let go, but I can’t help but go, don’t call me, stop calling me.

Verse 2

I see your cry for attention, it’s always the next day.

You need them all to want you; you need my heart to stay.

You just wanna keep me holding on, and I can’t fight this way, oh baby let me be.

(I imagine the music fading out with the verse, then the music hitting hard coming into the 2nd chorus)


You say that you loved me, so when your fire begins to burn… Don’t Call Me.

I can’t say no, still I can’t help but go, don’t call me…


Just to play with my heart and your sad, sad song…

Chorus (Music comes down with just a beat in the background)

If you ever loved me, when the fire begins to burn. don’t call me…

(Big crescendo)

I can’t say no, and my heart can’t help but go… So, when the fire begins to burn, I’m begging you please, don’t call me stop calling me…

(Music Comes down, acapello)

Stop calling me…






Poetry, Thoughts

Battling Perceptions

The aching in my chest draws my fingers to my phone;

Technology has a way of extending the past when we find ourselves alone.

I find daunting humor in the exhibition of a meme,

Nystagmus alongside blurred hope and naivety.

I often wonder about the lines blurred between

Good intentions and deception unseen.

My brain then grabs my lungs, squeezing out favorable levels of air –

A deep breath, and I find that my unceasing naivety is the cross I’m bound to bare.

Still, I find a steadier breath as the breeze carries in another thought;

A gift – initial perceptions are fought.

In that thought I find what my soul lives and longs to effortlessly breath

An unfailing hope in the goodness of humanity.

My mug – bright yellow with a popular black, cheery face

My ring, my wall, my license plate.

They all speak of a gift the deepest corners of my soul long to embrace,

Desperately battling the taming and sifting of cynicism’s hate.

Poetry, Thoughts


A villain is labeled as ego begins to fade; painful nuances bid, “Stay.”

I saw him last night. Touch me, touch her, touch…

Touch a tattered heart

With sounds of self-regard, tearing faith apart.

Sauntering in thought, I wander from an arid scene,

Precipitating harmony – the sound desire sees.

Hundreds of journeying birds perched atop neighboring, naked trees,

Picturesque communication – music diminishing aching inhumanity.

Ugh, but words have been spoken, an interlude that ne’er had to be.

 Friend! Slow down, be careful with her mended sleeve.

Hours of life spent –

Shared, painting vivid colors – candid humanity,

A venerated canvas, smashed, broken by careless ubiquity.

“He did to me!” Ego gasps,

 Grasping for air, self-implored;

Depersonalizing blood spews from torn chords,

Rivals defend whilst slaughtering with ideal’s illusory sword.

My child, the merciful inherit the forgiveness they choose to afford.

Ah love, trust the wind, trust in fate,

Forgive imperfection, lest become what you hate.

Love without expectation, learn to embrace.

Embrace the harmony the sympathetic imagination creates.

Poetry, Thoughts

Time is Friendly

Am I restless; do I wander?

There were times when he could have asked.

He did not. Fear or Faith unmasked.

Pressure collided, initiating storms – the wind,

Born of the spirit, knew the course.

Longing for sincerity, for safety, we flee

or perhaps horripilation not yet seen…

Stop looking? I stare.

So many people – unmindful quests for care,

A sense of urgency willing survive,

Psychological urgencies supersede life.

So many intentions, deeper than can be perceived,

Guiding them, not me…




Thoughts, Uncategorized

All About a Moral Base

While heading to drop my children off at school today, my daughter, Aria, was jamming out to All About that Bass by Meghan Trainor, a song she has listened to many times.  At first, I was jamming right along with her. Our carefree song and dance sessions make for fantastic mother-daughter moments (even if I don’t care for the song personally) since she and I share a profound passion for music. However, a minute or so into the song, mindfulness heard my eight year old daughter singing, “Boys like a little more booty to hold at night.” Again, I have heard the lyrics in this song many times; however, this time, as I heard both she and I sing these lyrics, conflicting thoughts entered my mind as I began to contemplate the moral platform of the message contained within the lyrics and whether or not I really want my daughter “jamming out” to them.

I said nothing at the time as not to draw attention to the lyrics if, in fact, she is unaware of them. I am a firm believer that sexuality should not be hidden or brought to light with shameful or overly-restrictive connotations. I am not considering whether or not I should be sheltering my child from learning about healthy human sexuality. The question posed is, first of all, does she realize the meaning of the words she is singing?  My daughter is a very intelligent eight year old. Still, with no exposure to sexual discussion or experience, does she realize the nature of the lyrics?  More so, even if she does not consciously understand them quite yet, does the message contained within these lyrics stick with her subconsciously, and, most importantly, what is the message?

The third question is perhaps the question that validates the first two. What is the message contained within the lyrics: “Boys like a little more booty to hold at night?” My mind screams objectification, unhealthy reasons to desire a body shape and/or type that may not naturally be your own, besides the blatant fact that this statement, as a blanket statement, is entirely untrue.

The message contained in this song, overall, is not a bad message. The media pushes photo shopped, super-skinny women as a prototype for beauty in every outlet. This is not a new phenomenon. Telling thicker women to love and embrace their bodies is a very positive message to push in our culture. Still, why push that message with objectification or “I’m bringing booty back, go ‘head and tell them skinny bitches that?” In this case, the means do not to justify the ends when millions and millions of children will be subject to a message that takes away one complex by pushing another. I never want my daughter to desire any type of body shape or size or to feel comfortable with her existing shape or size because boys will want to hold her booty at that particular size. The only boy I want holding her booty at night is the boy who loves her heart, her mind and her soul.

Many would say I am entirely overthinking this. Eight year old’s do not listen to lyrics; heck, many adults don’t listen to lyrics. Still, I can’t help but think, even if she does not consciously understand their meaning now, do these messages stick with her subconsciously? I know, first hand, the detrimental effects of unhealthy, auto-pilot behaviors. Even if our children do not consciously understand the meaning of these lyrics, the messages are still entering and being stored in their brains.  The media transmits messages to our brains every day, subliminally. Songs, billboards, movies, magazines, all of these outlets influence our behavior and perception, whether we realize it or not. Is this a message I want possibly influencing my daughter’s future behavioral patterns?

Ultimately, I know that my children will be exposed to messages all around them that I am not fond of, that have little moral depth, and that they will have to be strong enough to psychologically overcome, but at this stage in their lives, when I can somewhat filter what they are exposed to, maybe I should exercise a bit more caution or, at the least, not jam out with them to songs with less than moral messages.



Before the dawn, I can see

A vision, inspiring and vast as the ever waking sea,

A world I long to find, found in a simple dream,

Everything I yearn, my imagination, unconcernedly free.

Spirits originated in blessings of love,

White souls, freed from selfish lust,

Carrying a message, an olive branch, one of only two doves.

No child left alone, no prejudice, no greed,

No lust for rich man’s gold or a flower’s only seed,

The beauty of the human soul,

Life so powerful in word and deed

Holding the power to uncap the lost meaning of “me.”

Oh, swiftly approaching dawn…

Why hold the epitome of dread on your old exhausted sleeve?

Why must I unwillingly arise to my life’s existent reality?

An epiphany, I saw my life,

All I ever wanted to see.

All I ever wanted but never will be.


Yellow Bicycle

There is a bicycle in the water.

Very interesting to see…

There is a bicycle in the water.

I wonder why it went to sleep…

There is a bicycle in the water,

The thoughts this sight stops and breeds.

A yellow bicycle is in the water,

Moving slowly through the weeds?

That bicycle is in the water!

I wonder how long it will be…

A yellow bicycle is in the water

Pulling focus from what I came to see.