…the sunset. That’s what she called him. Because he was the darkness that evaded us.

“Do you even know what we want?” She shouted at me while I was washing the stove off. “We want distance” we are apoplectic next to the other. 

… the cold wet steps from the length of the shower to the bedroom, every steamy step met the floor in it’s own place. Sometimes getting put in an inescapable position can really hurt some one. 

We all look for wardrobes. Somewhere we can find another world in, even if it is just momentary. We could all go far with our heart. Love, is all I want. 

She took a diamond ring, that was how I convinced her.

She stopped following me… sooner than later. She walked away, escaped, this was the one I knew would stay.

I couldn’t learn how to forgive myself, that was the worst. I couldn’t take one step in front of the other to see how broken the nest really was, and there probably not anyone there by his side.

Not tonight.

She thinks she was broke…

She was wrong… we were broken. 

As if the fluctuating of our pulses will find us home, our melody was silent, but sang to the highest heavens.

The idea that was you walking back. 

She will break you. The same way she broke me.


Fourth and Long

Felt the rain, cold… whispering… tapping me on the shoulder again…

The wind left her there. A park bench flipped over… over her. A tailwind came and went. Vision disabled. X number of day pass. X number of nights pass. Eventually we become the feet.

We become the rain… whispering… sad like lost puppies… never to find home…

The sulfur and fire consumed the vile. A path was left from your upcoming. Can’t wave you back. I remember a number of times I tried breathing.

SILENCE. SCREAMS. DESPAIR. Abolishment. Threaded loose. SUIT TO BE TIED.

Replace. The echoes counted us in to the three pace. For metronomes call us wild. The wild sights of living like you look you do. I played my part.

I easily walked the part.

But I failed to let go.

The funny thing is you think LETTING GO IS THE BEGINING OF THE PAIN. That once you drop, your hands will swell. That you lose all ability to touch.

Because you forget about gravity. Because letting go is just the start.


Soft White

I wrote this based on a dream. How sometimes people you love truly aren’t replaceable.

… she sat there. Didn’t know a name. Just sat there. Arms folded over not looking for what was coming. Didn’t know the way it felt.

It wasn’t even really her fault. Sometimes the heart and the brain forget that she was to be forgotten. After she had left, she came back. Just for one night.

It wasn’t her body, just her spirit. And she told me that love cannot be replaced. That love could never be forgotten. I had, until my heart reminded me.

Seems to me that it’s the only part you can’t control. Because it’s out of reach.

The violet colored dress, covered in tulips. I didn’t forget. I didn’t want to. Eyes like hers, they were golden, silver and blue. Hands covered in a frail, soft white.

I couldn’t describe the pain. She was gone. For good. I had to forget.

…she sat there. Didn’t see my face. Just sat there. Hands covering her face and didn’t see what was coming. Didn’t know the way I felt.

It wasn’t even my fault. Sometimes the heart cannot be controlled, because the brain cannot let her go. After she had left, I remembered, for one night who I was.

It wasn’t my favorite songs, just the guitar swinging by my ears. And I heard that love can never be forgotten. I had, until my mind reminded me.

The depth of blues I saw in her shoes, with scarlet bows. I didn’t forget. I didn’t want to. Hair so soft and in a light brunette, too. Hands covered by mine, soft white.

I couldn’t describe the pain, when I realized it was you


The Story Behind My First Tattoo

I was attending college for Graphic Design in 2007 and had been getting back into drawing. As my friends will tell you I was nicknamed “Mr. Hot N Now” as I would always wear my work shirt to school and well… was one of the few people who actually worked there.

A friend of mine and my boss at the time Jeremy had just gotten another tattoo and after spending years of drawing all over my arms; all of which against my parents wishes; I finally cracked.

I spent several months drawing out pieces of a tattoo I had in my mind. Different concepts. As I was only 18, I was always a lover, always desiring to be a real man. I wanted to tell people who I was with just one piece of art. Who I wanted to be. Who I was afraid of becoming.

Then one cold March night I did it.

I took all of my drawings into work and had Jeremy call up a guy I will forever only know as “Tatt”. As we got the work done I was nervous.

But what did this whole thing mean to me Tatt asked. And I described the whole thing to him. And it goes like this.

The Sword
A sword is strong, dangerous. Not to be played with. To only be handled by those who care about them. They come in different forms; shapes, sizes, hilts. Some, while thin can cut through the wind with little effort while those that are with a wider blade take more effort. However, no matter the make, they all get damaged with every strike. With every touch against another. Sometimes they break. I was afraid of being someone who hurt others or was used to hurt. At the base of the hilt there is a skull.

Some people don’t believe me when I say this; in fact I’ve been scoffed at several times for this. But to me, beauty is only skin deep. I truly believe that we have to find out who people are and only by removing the first barrier we see can we expose that. I’ve said it to hundreds of people, but one of the things I can attest to is the sheer ignorance; the ability to quickly misjudge and be belligerent; of others. I get asked for my heritage, lineage, nationality, ethnicity and everything else all the time and as soon as people ask me that the first thing I ask them is what do they think I am. It might be a curious question but I feel I get the same answer and reaction when I give them the answer. So to me, the skull is a single symbol of understanding that people are not who you immediately think they are.


To the hilt, an odd vertebra lines up to a “S” representing me. My views. To the left and right are bones; almost representing arms, one holding up a star and the other a heart.

I can only describe this as my first realization of wanting to be a husband, a father. My dad was almost all of my life a husband. He was also of course my father. He tried his best to provide for me and my siblings. At the time of the divorce, I was crushed. I didn’t know how hard things were for him because I was so young. But he worked a lot, and went to school. Though Michigan was a lot different from Louisiana with his long term journeys, I still knew that he was giving it everything. And respectfully my mom did too. And when Debbie and Jessica came in to our lives, I think the man I grew up to be was greatly shaped by them. Now, I’ll take this opportunity to say I am still far from the man I want to be, but I also know that I can only become a better one.

The heart represented family; love. The star represented power; work; money. I never wanted to be driven away from my family for more than I needed but I also wanted to support my family. I envisioned a teeter totter, a scale, balancing both parts, family and work.

Unfortunately, I haven’t fully realized that dream. But I am fortunate that I can and do pay child support for Chloe, along with other things. I see her every week and make sure that we have special moments every chance we can. But it’s not easy. I don’t like only seeing her for the time I do; but until everything shifts into full gear where I don’t have to work as much as I do I don’t know that I will ever get there.

The heart represented family; love. The star represented power; work; money.

As we go down to the blade, we see it has a dark and light side. As I saw it and still do, we all have good and bad parts to us. We all have to determine how to be the best people we possibly can. The dark side of all of our souls are parts of ghosts, resonating memories that keep to their clutch.

The sword represented who I wanted to be, who I didn’t want to be; all in one. All in all, I never wanted to be the source of someone else’s pain.

But the tree, the tree represented so much too.

A tree grows up, gets bigger with age and eventually dies. The problem with trees… well, they don’t go anywhere. They live one life. Feet planted in and only hope to be cared for by those who need it. But trees not going anywhere is also a promise to those I love. That I won’t go anywhere. That I will always be there and that they will always be able to find me.

As with swords being different sizes, shapes; trees come in a slew of types. Some being so thin that with just enough wind they will snap in a storm and fall apart. Or the bigger trees that get split in half with a strike of lightning. I never want to fall apart; I said when I was eighteen. But I have. Almost once a year at this rate. And somehow it is ironic that it takes me a few months before I am back to who I was every time. Much like the trees.

On one branch, there is a snake. On the other is a heart. The snake is looking forward. To leave the past behind and continue to live the way it always has. But the snake also represents the evil I am afraid of. I try to be the best person I can be and that was something I put into the thought behind having a snake on the branch. And the heart. The heart is there to represent my desire again to be loved. I put my heart out there on the line for anyone who isn’t afraid of the past, who isn’t afraid of the fact that we are all imperfect. And in thought that if someone came along and took my heart with them it would be forever theirs to have.

And the knot that has hollowed out represents my desire to always be see through, to let people always know the real me.

And as I described all of this to him with less reminiscing, less experience, he referenced my drawings and free handed what became my first tattoo. My personal symbol of who I wanted to be.


And The Word They Used Was Wrong

It’s still water, it just tastes better. Feels better. It makes you feel satisfied. But it’s enhanced. Sometimes with addictive crap; other times, just with crap. But it’s water. It’s what’s around us. In us. Controls the air we breathe. It’s everything.

It’s still love, it just feels better. Tastes better. It makes you feel satisfied. But it’s enhanced. Sometimes with addictive crap; other times, just with crap. But it’s love. It’s what’s around us. In us. Controls the air we breathe. And it’s everything.

You make me fall hard. Because like a changed glass of water, you let me satisfy not just you, but other people too.

You make me scared. Because you’ve changed me, you let me see the me I am.

You set me free.

You set me free by joining my heart into the path which we have created.

You hurt me. Because that’s what love does. It drives you crazy. Drives me to you.

And yet I’m just water. And you’re just the love.

Let me float to you. Because this is yours.

Yours to love. To miss. To hold.

And yet yours so fragile, that with one wrong word I’ll still think it’s my fault.

They broke me. They tried to show me that I could never love again. But they’re wrong. Because I have you.

Poetry Ramblings Shane The Poet

There’s As Late Of A Chance That To You I Guess, Time Is On It’s Way

There’s a strange silence, a loss of hope when in between words
As if paragraphs matter, or whether or not we exist
Late night proposals of sound lost to those in the woods
Of proposals of nights leaving us behind late

A whispering could be heard, most of which at extreme sound
Chance that I would have to hear what she said as I left the ground,
That as I would have loved to stay, mattered
To her, I never had a say

You could say that what I saw; I could say I called it fire
I never lost sound, in saying that it’s you that I admire,
Guess, guessing is past the wheel you came to steer
Time to let go and embrace all that you came to fear

Is the silence lost up your hope between trees?
On solid ground, you never quite weighed out the mass you created
It’s paragraphs about how real you’ve ever been
Way more fake now then all of the proposals of trust, that you could ever trust men


Logo Ideas



Night Ender: A Moment Before Loss of Conscience

Emory. My heart holds corrupt. Pairing at the end of the high enough hospital bed. She told me not to be a victim. 
It’s been long enough since I last loved anyone let alone felt a passionate kiss. 

And the games they are, are what kills me. 

Why in gods name would we change his plans.