Ever red


My fists rage against the glass,
beating into reflections looking on
with vacant stares, unmoving.

I’m screaming when they point at me.
Were I a portrait of some magnitude,
they might show me a tide.

Could I turn this window into a mirror,
they might scream against my cage,
but they are not the kindred I call for.

Weariness walks in my stride,
and their gazes wander again.
Ever searching, for ever red.

Someone comes in,
cleans my fingerprints off the glass,
and vanishes as I begin again.


Twinkle twinkle little star…


Watch them fall into the city
begging to be a part of the night
They reach for soft roses on the skyline,
kiss the twinkling faces of monoliths
stretching into heaven

Beauty and noise–I assign each
color a note better than the twists
and trumpets of industry,
and they build into a symphony
worthy of all sounds.




Carry me over the wind
where the sky reaches into
the Endless, and the call of
the Earth cannot hold me back.
Take me to where Suns cannot burn
and Moons cannot follow
so I can hold you in Stillness–
in the arms of quiet Nothings.
There we will wait together
until the waves of Emptiness
make us Whole again.

The Trinity of Time (first draft)


standing with open arms
on the brink of annihilation
once green like channels etched onto leaves
descending on us when we were least prepared

They saw the sun and wanted to mirror its every step
until autumn sunsets shut their eyes
falling into sleep–unto another winter

Words, whispers, thoughts breaking into dreams

They grow from the soil,
veins of copper which give root to trees
that in turn dip their toes into the rivers
that feed the ocean currents

Words that we learn to steal from our mothers
carve into our skins, then immortalize in our children.
Of POETS and premonitions
we are all blind


each one a solitary pitch, but together a symphony
moving to the beat of a cosmic hopscotch
one, two, one, two, two, one, one.

When I was young, I wove lyrics into their chords,
now, I bind new songs in my wake,
and one day when I am young again
my MUSIC will shake them from forever

It is a path meticulously orchestrated
into a song of infinite choirs
I walk each and every one
through the ages of every present

Sing to me, I say, every dwarf and giant
until music is no more


it did not end in this, for it was always there
Always, it was waiting as a soul waits for conception
and as death waits for company

As the last word is forgotten, as the last note is sung,
as every path, tread and charted, fades from the memory
of what was and would be
The darkness settles
in the midst of the Awakening

TIME AND SPACE laid bare
by the marrow of memories alive in the wake of the End
Eternal of their history, once exhausted they will follow
into a final dance that extends into infinite.

With their final breath, they whisper,

In the beginning…

Sweet sounds


You broke my heart with words and whispers–
music that clung to me when everything else was falling apart.
Honey dripping from your mouth, I drank you in, every bit
then sank to the bottom of the sound.

How did I ever think I could give you up?




Until he wasn’t.


He was kind until kindness became apathy
soft until numbness filled him with regret
and when I first saw the way his eyes sparkled
I thought they would inspire in me
a thousand songs I could sing to him over a lifetime
but in time their light became another beacon
–distractions calling ships towards muddy rocks

He said he loved me, I think he meant it
until ‘I love you’ started pouring out of him like
pleasantries about the weather, and one day
when he said it looked like rain, I cried like
he had just told me he’d never loved me at all

He was everything until it wasn’t enough,
he was my friend until he became a stranger

He was perfect


One, one, one


These pages are where I hide my secrets
between syllables and staccatos, with words
that tread water over inky waves tugging at their toes

They call me, here I am
We are insanity, we are one.
where Rorschach tears press against our eyes
What words pour out of us
while we lie in bed waiting for lucid truths
to write themselves

I wake up with ink smudges on our pillow
they tumble through me like words over a tongue
Secrets never stumble, but they fall out of me
like skipping rocks on the waves

So many pages
behind each one, a hum
Open up, Open up

Chapter two


the picture you paint of me is perfect
the model sitting next to you is not

i don’t know when the Idea took my place
but it will never be enough to love

My shadows


Do you hear it?

Not a choir of angels

but something else

Dark and cold

familiar like the moon

Rising at dawn



He twisted the knife in her back
winding her like a ballerina

as her strings cried out
and she twisted in anguish.

It was the most beautiful dance
he had ever seen.

Mother Mother Earth and fire


I feel it in every cell, every leaf,
every ember in slow release
Fire fire, burning ends
Elemental energy glowing red, blue, white and green
Be it spiritual, elemental, chemical flame
We are all on fire
Descending into what, I do not know
But when we reach our end
The flesh, the dirt and the ash will slow
We rise, fall, burn, then extinguish
Consuming what we can, what we must
It’s the way of the spirit, of the world,
what’s beyond

We are one.

Night terrors


You are an echo in a quiet mind
skirting the corners for a hiding spot under the bed
searching for secrets—a stray reflection in the window
or a low hum folded over your shadow

You listen.

to an absent-minded melody forgotten as soon as it’s sung

drip drip

there in the dark, it ripples and then quiets
still waters and then silence


The Deck

Three stars align, three cards divine
the Past, the Present, the Future


The Past

A beautiful Fool with ballet slippers and horseshoe curls
playing dress up in a treasure trove of possibilities
where an untied bow is her crown, a hand-me-down dress her gown
and the playground sings her praises to ancient tunes
of rosies, and Towers, and skip to my loo

The Hierophant’s throne is decorated with black-eyed-Susans
at its feet the kingdom lies in wait, listening for her decree
“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,
we all fall down!”

They fall

The Present

A Hermit sleeping under drifting clouds
next to Broken Cars on the highway
she’s traveled too far to remember why she left
and forgotten what to look for when she arrives
knowing only that she will be alone

Twenty Eight nights after Twenty Eight more,
step by step by step around the eternal cycle
she’s wandering to wander until her legs collapse
ready to surrender under the weight of the Weak
one more night on the trail that winds towards
the place where echos sleep

The Future

Has the fool grown up? Same face, new crown
and eyes calm like the sea of Temperance
whispering secrets over the the water
where fountains flow into forever

Syllables dripping into starlight
she is writing the testament of the World,
singing Constellations into verse
do, re, mi, the Sun creeps over the horizon
fa, so, la it sinks down again
the last note shivers down the rings of Saturn
and at last the World is still

Ryoness Blogs: To write, to read, to think (A.K.A. My Novembresolution)

Remember when I was worried about not getting a job? Well here I am, November 2016, two months into employment that pays and everything! A job that gets me up in the morning and forces me to think about who I am, what my ambitions are, and how I want to direct my life. A job where my computer is angled far too precariously towards my boss I can’t, as the kids say, “dick around”…

Writing at work has become much harder than before. My post count is proof of that. In all fairness though, I guess it’s all about finding a balance and making use of that dang post queue, the ultimate masquerade of consistent productivity!

With a new job, a personal commitment to writing, a diet I’m pretending to be on, and a sudden onslaught of OSS (Online Shopping Syndrome), I decided it was time for a pre New Year’s resolution… in November. A Novembresolution if you will.

Until the end of 2016 and beyond, I’m tasking myself with four things:

  1. Post three times a week at least
  2. Start reading for fun again
  3. Start reading for school again
  4. Start painting again

New Year Another Turkey, New Me.

“Where is all this coming from?” you may be asking. Or perhaps, “Damn! How’d she come up with a cool idea like New Year’s resolutions in November?” 

Though I can’t pretend to explain the genius of my own mind, I can explain why I’m making some clearly scheduled changes to my life:

I want to.

Really, I was thinking about how much of a wake up call post-college life is. It really slammed into me once I hit my senior year that things were changing, and I was thrown into this huge mental transition I wasn’t totally prepared for.

I finished my first for-pleasure book in two years last month, and I only had time to read it because my office was closed due to Hurricane Matthew. I have a folder on my computer of subjects I want to paint but I never give myself time to break out my supplies. I want to take a few extra credits to turn my minor into a major but I can’t find a local program that will let me.

It’s high time I rebuilt my artistic and academic lifestyle.

I miss being immersed in a mentally stimulating environment, and when I was in school I had every opportunity to take a class on history, or language, or biology. I could join a pottery club, and paint coolers for a tailgat. I don’t have that any more, or at least it’s not the same as it was.

Word to the wise, If you’re still in school, don’t just cherish the personal freedom, cherish the access and opportunity afforded to your mind. You are literally in a hub of learning, and even if some Psycholinguistic textbook costs $150, just know I spent about that much on five books that will certainly give me half the information in three times the page count (though that textbook was super heavy, it was my senior spring, and I had a three day weekend after dropping the class #PRIORITIES).

Expanding your world becomes harder once you leave a lifestyle that prioritizes it, what’s more is it becomes expensive. Like I said, my latest book haul was worth hundreds and was not paid for by the State. Not that I mind. I’ve decided to expand my education Solo Style. Amazon is my Millennium Falcon, my cat is Chewey, and my credit card is the hyperdrive.

Being tied to a career and all the responsibilities that surround “adulthood” doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still find time for things that are important to me. I want to make a career, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still write, paint, learn, and do the things I love. Pursuing the paths I felt would lead me to success doesn’t mean I have to put old ambitions aside while making room for new ones.

Success and Betterment: two things that you can choose to alienate, or expand together. Don’t be the person who makes excuses for not prioritizing what you want. Even still, you can want more than one thing and go after them together.

So go forth! Make yourself a Novembresolution. Eat that Thanksgiving turkey for you, then eat some more for your future! 

And make your future whatever you want it to be.


Pumpkins on pumpkins on pumpkins! Fall fever is running wild in this one!

Stay cute, stay carefree, and stay caffeinated!

Where the weeds grow


Windows shrinking pane by pane
as opportunity, risk, redemption dry up
Paths are paved by conquest, you know
–Of nature, of systems, of pause
When we stop clearing them
the thorns and thistles creep in
You did not see them
but they were always there