Chilled wind howls,

Nature’s silent scream;

All around life lays dormant.

On solid ground death crunches beneath weary feet;

Innocent play bundled in thick wool,

Tiny hands raw from play,

Laughter beams from grinning teeth,

Watching leaves rain down



Blinding light all around,

 Darkness spills through.

Mindless clatter,

A dampened dream,

The gleaming blade deep within;

Blood pours,

Only smears the surface.

Rain crashes,

Such a deafening sound;

Memories flood through small cracks,

The dam breaks.

Frigid air consumes the soul,

Chilling to the bone;

Fear drenched pillow,

Reminds me of sleepless nights;

Morbid dreams and haunting pasts consume cluttered minds.

The Neon Glow of Orange Lace

The night began in a sleepy hollow of closed eyes and naps. A hard day, work, friends, and strangers. Guitar strings play in tuning songs, mopey blues lay flat on couch cushions. Humidity beads over confined space during a time of waiting.

Traveling tires cruise over hot pavement, to a new dive. Live music stings ears in off-key tunes while rumbling hunger awaits piled plates of bun-less burgers and fries.

When the clock strikes, the party begins. Laughter and grins cascade over a flowered cake in celebration. Booze overflows steins and bottles, ninety  nine has taken over. Honey drips in a constant streak of attention, the room is owned. Text flows through fingers in comfortable conversation, with unseen friends. Flashing photos spark in the night air capturing a million memories, possibly to be later regretted.

Neon lights dance across checkered floors, while sweaty bodies move, grinding against strange skin. A party of the mind, body, and soul. Shooting shots with strangers, in glowing orange lace. Laughter floats through the smoke filled room lined with pool tables and chalk. Mingling in a large group, against blinded windows and high tables, there he is. Smiling across a sea of movement, I am found.

What was thought to be, is not what is. Just an object, mere entertainment of a ragged being; sought out just to be ignored. Brought forth to a new world, just to burn in a stinging mist. Last call, the party is over. Crowds of heated people fumble, staggering toward the exit; wide and welcoming. For some, the night has just begun, yet, for others it was over long ago.

Flying over dark streets, lit by dim street lamps and headlights, the seconds pass. The night turns into early morning, while restless feet attempt to remain seated. Anticipating the end, unknowingly accepting defeat with a hug and a friendly tap on the back.

All that is left, a memory marked in time . . . the neon glow of orange lace.

The Stranger Files

Stranger Number 3 – May 27, 2012

A trip to Auburn for professional hair color proposed another opportunity for a new meeting. Donna posed for this photo while my mother captured this moment in time. A very sweet and helpful woman, who, at first, was a little weary of my proposition, threw caution to the wind and allowed this photo to be captured. Thank you Donna, for being open enough to be apart of “The Stranger Files”.

The Stranger Files

Stranger Number 2- May 26, 2012

A night out at the Club in New Hampshire brings forth a second amazing stranger. In a liquored state, posing with a blond bombshell, proved to be a blast. A night full of dancing, singing, pool, and ass-slapping fun with her and her friends. A sweet name. A woman who’s essence clings to the air like nectar to a flower. A stranger to be called Hunny. On this night she was out celebrating her birthday

The Stranger Files

The fun begins. My new adventure is taking random photos with complete strangers. An exciting way to meet new people, and a wonderful way to experience the world.

Everyone has a story, and this experiment will explore the adventurous side of anyone I run into.

Follow me on this trip into the unknown . . .

Stranger Number 1 – May 26, 2012

I met this perfect stranger at the ninety-nine in New Hampshire. Drinks were flowing in a group of wild patrons. A birthday bash, in which I knew nobody, except one. After this photo, I learned his name to be Jesse. He’s in a rock band, a bit of a wild child, and use to sport a curly Afro.

We’ll see who strikes me next. This is only the beginning!


Engines roar in rumbling waves of adrenaline. Sticky heat cloaks skin laced in chaps and leather.

A free ride, floating over pavement and yellow lines. Meandering turns, blurred landscapes pass by shielded eyes.

Freedom, this is what flying must feel like.

Delusions elude the mind’s process, reality takes a back seat to nowhere.

Flames shoot as speed increases, traveling through time, infinite space.

Someday this will be mine, for now, enjoy the ride.