Friends, For That One Night


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To: Faye, with love.

Her name was Faye
It means, I think,
In some language. Some dialect
Russian, I think.

When I first approached her
It was with, “doesn’t your name mean faerie?”

Her face exploded into fireworks—a shower of stars—as she told me,
“Yes! It means faerie! In Russian”,
I think she said.

She went on to telling me that how
I am the first person she’s ever met
Who knows this.
She said she knows me.
That how in every class, she’d see me
Responding to the teacher, always in glee
Never holding back my personality.

Like the brightest star in the sky

She was always there. While I was always me.
I’d play with the thought that
Something for us was meant to be.
Each time she smiles was an ocean reflecting the day’s light
Her specs magnetized her eyes to becoming two moons.
Glancing over your spirit. Waiting. Observing.

I wanted to make her happy
But the problem is, she was already happy.
Whether because of him, external of him
Just around me.

But I guess that’s not really a problem?

We didn’t go through much together
But what we had held so much.
We went through so much, in one moment.
I’m talking: me cleaning up her vomit with my bare hands
Receiving drunk texts late in the night
When her friends abandoned her in the bar,
Lowering the bar.
Sitting in a library room, talking her through it
Until she let it all out
“Here, take my jacket.”
“It’s cold outside”
“You’re in no shape to drive”
“Spend the night”
Arms around my shoulders. Supporting her.
As we take the long walk, stumbling, to my on-campus apartment.

“You can take the bed,
I’ll sleep on the floor”

Wait what?! No!!

Are you sure?…

At one point in the night,
She told me I was the perfect friend.
The bestest friend
That how no quality of friendship surpasses what I had to offer

I wonder if she’s already forgotten me.
I wonder if she knows
Her existence has already been deleted
From my phone.
That because the last few times I had texted her,
The friendship wasn’t really there, anymore.
That maybe what we had didn’t want to overstay its welcome
So it left.

Someone said, in the Kingkiller Chronicle,
We know how the story will end.
It’s just the process. The path there. That keeps us engaged.

I knew nothing was going to come out of us.
I do a great job of burying myself in the moment,
But if I had taken my head out
Look to see what’s ahead—
I knew it wasn’t us.

My star shined bright in her universe, for that one night.
When she was needing someone to reach out to
So she messaged the last person she had texted—
Which I’m sure wasn’t me
In that one night, I was the brightest star in the sky.
So, of course, the messages followed the path to me.

A whole friendship
With not too many in-depth connections
No substantial intimacy
Built for that one moment. That one night.

I wonder if she still remembers
I wonder if the story is being told, in places only the wind knows.
If the establishment we had built. For only that one night.
Has been visited by her.
Since we’d continued down our separate paths.


This is to the people who God brings into our life for a specific reason. May they continue down their path with prosperity, and love.

My Old Roots


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You’re a flower.
Connecting to your past is your roots extending
Touching different parts of this lovely garden,
Perhaps your life is a forest.

Embracing areas unexplored, sometimes ignored
To learn of the pieces and droplets of sunlight left behind
Brought back to the present

It happens, at times, in an assembly of plants
Some from old gardens left behind
Struggling but striving. Enlightening.

As you bloom to the new moon,
Surrounded by petals plucked, fallen free
For purposes of growth and advancement,
Connect to your past.

Revisit the dews—turned yellow—on these petals
That used to fertilize you.
But now glistened with dirt.

You’re a flower.
And we need to bloom.
Sometimes involving leaving that soil behind
That we were once rooted to.

I like to
Extend my newfound vines to my old roots.
Feel the uncertainty that clouded the atmosphere
But the tranquility that came with it.
These old, grown branches—now withered
That used to lay at the foundation;
The stakes in place to support my growth
I once thought
Were only burdened with staking my youth

I like to
Recline to that old sweet sun, back there
Embrace it tighter.
Realize its prime necessity to my evolution.


It’s been a while 🙂

Blue Star Blues ★★★★★


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If you’ve ever had a serious conversation with me on the topic
Then you’d know I don’t want to get married.

But damn. There are some girls that I just
Want to have with me
Marry me.
Let’s face it all together.

As I go through her picture and
Intake everything about her.
Most people see pictures and think, “that’s attractive”
“that’s cool”; “eww”; “wtf”; “that’s hot”

But me, I see all the trauma that she has overcome
The manifestation of beauty she’d made sure to become
The light, art, joy and glory that’s to come.

So I tap
Tap, and tap.

Hearing my heart, as it tells me that
It would give up anything to be with you.
We are ready to give up everything
For you to call us yours; call this dream ours.

And that’s dangerous. It always is.
You look like a girl I’d give up everything for
Just for you to be mine.
For you to be mine.
For you to be mine.
“Love” creates this false perception that people
Can be—become your property.
And we’ve all owned into it. So, I guess
That’s why
My past has been hectic, a drama and a lie

These thoughts go through my mind
As I tap
Tap, and tap.

(at this part, I was going to say who in this city
Let you walk through these streets on your own
Freedom. Unbounded.
But I know it’s not like that.
I know you’d be targeted by these catcallers
Chained to their porch, in front of their buildings.

Chained to nothing with worth)

So I intake the art. Masterpiece.
I inhale you with my soul
That has fled out of my body, into that screen
In a hopeless search.

And I know in the position that I am in
There’s no hope. No matter how much I search.
How much I crave. What (G)god I pray.
My blue star has been used
And I can’t risk an 11-hour wait,

So I tap
Tap, and tap

To the last picture.
Feeling mesmerized and elevated
With reluctant acceptance of being incapable;
Stories of defeat.

Knowing that all I can do,
In my power,
Is swipe right.


Yes, this poem is about tinder.

Destiny Remains


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In a land full of chameleons  
Will you stay true to your color? 
Release your own vibrations
Turn your head, follow your path
Quiet your mind, follow your heart
Are you willing to repeat the art?
But flick your brush slightly
Give your stroke a different meaning
Like the one on the ceiling? 
In a world filled with anchors to drown you
Close ties to friends and family restraining your will
Will your adventurous mind be bold?
When success is whispered in the dead wind of the night
And failures echoing from mountaintops, on the back of eagles
Where do we find courage?  
How does a spark burst into a blaze of glory?
Such story, the sun seldom tells.
As the goal approaches clarity, the path pursues alignment.
But as your path reaches alignment,
Comrades stray with the world
Into the woods; the gleaming fields of proven promises and fortune-telling.
So, are you lost?
Or have you found a calling among responses gone astray?
Have you found your way? When all around are losing theirs?
Hold on to your glimpse of light 
Strive with every effort.
Cause realities might change, but your Destiny Remains.


Computers With Baggage (Video)


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I once told this girl some of my [traumatic] personal life story, and homegirl replied with, “wow…Charles, you have a lot of baggage”……ANYWAYS long story short, two years later, I wrote a poem about the idea!

Get my new book through the link below for free.99 #gratisbaby


2020-11-24 – Another Blue Balloon — hands in the garden


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let another blueballoon go just to seewhere it wouldup and driftoff to, then i reached up foryou like you weren’talready part of anew family, my feet are blisterstones and all iwant is to bethe air wherever youbreathe itfree. Grumpy Gormanigram:èèrumpygorm image adapted from artwork here –

2020-11-24 – Another Blue Balloon — hands in the garden

Such a powerful piece. I definitely needed to share it!

Computers With Baggage


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What’re all these weights and regrets
That you carry, around, in the bags under your eyes
That I’m sure
You’ve been promising yourself for the past few years
You’d work towards getting rid of but

You and us all are in the business of promising ourselves
Changes and updates
That we all know we won’t arrive at getting the upgrade to.

So we carry our past around, turning us into a machine
That’s working with an outdated system
Needing a new software installation.

Till then, our drive is rather hard to find working
Through these codes and commands and programs
So, we’re inside this machine, behind the monitor
But it’s been a noticeably hard-drive getting to
That place we were destined to, long ago.
Before our visions and intentions and ambitions were infiltrated
By viruses. And hacks
That our computation has no defense against

But you still kept going

Your mind and sanity is being infiltrated
But you still kept going
Your Beauty and Oasis being corrupted
But you still kept going
Your motherboard on fire, your signals lagging
But you still kept going

Until that firewall goes out of date and depletes slowly
Until this warfare is a story pondered upon distantly,
Until there is casualties in these bags under your eyes
That you carry around;
Ones you haven’t quite figured out how to let go of, yet
Ones we’re calling the new model
Ones you’re putting on display to inspire.


CR U MB L E (FREE Poetry Book)


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Hi. So I wrote a book. It’s free. Thank you to the beautiful people at Keiken Media for writing an article reviewing the book. In their article (linked below), there is a link to a PDF of the book (it’s free). So go over there and read it. It’s free.
The book is titled, “Crumble”. I started it back in high school. At some point, at that time, I realized that I had a “crush” or a thing for 4 different girls, and they each were in a different school year. So I wrote a poem for each of them–putting the poems together into a collection titled, “Crumble”.  The main idea behind the book (and thus the title) is that love is a heavy emotion to behold, which is why most people have a “crush”. And, at times, even more than a “crush”, love flat out just CRUMBLE you.
After reading it, I would love to hear some feedback and your reactions. Thank you🙏🏾💕


What Does God Think?


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Did God really say to not spare the rod?
Did Jesus really say children are the most important in the kingdom of God?

Then how does God feel when a desperate and confused child,
Who has just suffered the rod,
Is kneeling before His throne
Begging Him for answers to why their life is the hardest?
Why were they created to just suffer?

Is trauma really worth it
If you’ll become society’s example of a stronger and well rounded individual, later on?
Is the end really worth it?
If you (almost) ended it all, along the means?

What does God think?

How does God respond to that child growing up traumatized?
A bruise that leaves stains of blood on whoever they meet

Do they deserve hell, then?