I tried to write a freeverse about overload. It kind of started as a poem, but then wasn’t really going that direction. I often get sensory or emotional overload. For me, the two go hand in hand. My emotions become, simply put, too much. As a result, I get too many feelings. Which can lead into my senses going into overdrive. I want so desperately to communicate, but I can’t. And I figured out a way to try and explain what I feel like when that happens… so I’m sharing it in hopes it helps someone else.

so many feelings,
colors and shapes and symbols
mixing together,
becoming static noise

becoming completely trapped
in a prison within myself
as the colors and shapes and symbols
blend together

finding myself longing
for a way to express myself
instead, i retreat
within my self

searching for words
that don’t even exist
as the sounds crash
the key locks

i’m desperately wishing
to let you in,
to let me out,
just to escape

but until then,
the sounds, colors, and symbols
swirl inside my head
leaving me trapped

And We Dance

for nicolas.  january the 13, 1990 – july the 25, 2011

moments of childlike joy
the children’s museum, the science museum
and we dance


those nights that we shared
with the little princess and scrubs
and we laugh

those moments you saved my life
hours and hours of prayer
and we weep

we had our disagreements and fade
but you always were my friend, nicolas,
and we care

as the waves of time come crashing
and stop crashing far too soon
and i mourn

i long for the day where we reunite
and we can catch up once more
and i wait

together, no longer in pain
together, with our creator
and we dance

oh, i thought about You the day that nick died, and you met between my breaking. i know that i still love You god, despite the agony. cuz people they want to tell me You’re cruel, but if nick could sing he’d say it’s not true ‘cuz you’re good. cuz he loves us, whoah, how he loves us, whoah how he loves us, whoah how he loves…

Love is love is love is love

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus
i pause and i
weep and cry and scream and pound the ground
at one more act
one more life stolen

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus
i find love
which trumps hate
which cannot be killed
which is victorious
and it conquers all

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus
nowhere do i see him
condemning before he helps
judging before he prays
using slurs before he helps like

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus
and i see him welcoming the victims home
with arms wide open,
heart broken
tears streaming down his face
as he cradles them in his arms

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus
as i open my arms to my friends
our safety stolen
our hearts broken
with nowhere to turn,
and more

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus
as i hold a candle without a flame
as the flags fly half staff
as the victims dance across my stream
as i think about those who were outed
by an act i cannot fathom

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus
perfect love casts out all fear
i hold out my hand to my community
my family united
as more and more victims are named
and i stare at my screen

i read the bible
and i think about my jesus.

Blast to the Past

So, I am currently sorting through old documents. It’s fun. I found a paper I wrote back in 2007 and I was caught off guard that I was this open and this vulnerable with a professor. I can assure you it wouldn’t happen today. But yet… it’s a perfect glimpse into who I was at the time.

So. Free reign of a journal topic, eh? Don’t you realize this is a dangerous thing to put in the hands of *full name*? I feel like I should insert an evil cackle here. Something sinister. But alas, I shall go on and ramble about something that likely has no importance. Not that is out of the ordinary, mind you. Anyway. Back on topic (like I had a topic to begin with!). I am annoyed with my father today. I know, this is a rather personal topic, but I need to get it off my chest. So I guess this is my chance to rant and whine, eh? (I’m sounding rather Canadian today. Blame it on spending 3 weeks in school in Windsor, Ontario). My father is… a bunch of words I cannot say in this paper. There are no nice words to describe him. He… I don’t even know how to put it. His last email sent me off the wall. He was saying crap like how I was his “best friend” (bullhockey), and how much he loved me. I hate his mind games. He treats you like crap, putting you down (this is the man who told me I wouldn’t make it in college!), and then turns around and says he loves you. Drives. Me. Batty. I finally got up the galls to tell him exactly what I thought of him, and man it felt good! Of course, I was polite. No use getting nasty back, eh? I told him I was no longer his punching bag. I would no longer allow his to push me around. Of course, he hasn’t emailed me back yet. Which means one of two things. Either he hasn’t made it to the library to read it yet (he’s not allowed to have a computer in his home – long story which isn’t fit for this journal entry), or I’ve royally ticked him off. I’m assuming the latter. Not like I care. He’s ticked me off enough times, and I’ve finally reached the final straw.  No more pushing Angelique around, no sir! I’ve had enough of his crap. In fact, I think I shall write a poem in his honour:

Sunshine and daises, butterflies and roses

Standing in church, striking our poses

Acting like all is fine and swell;

Ignoring the fact we’re living in hell

Your words wound the depths of my heart

Because of you, I’m falling apart

I reach out my hand, longing for your touch

You push me away, I’m asking too much

I’m your puppet, a victim of your game

Each day it goes on, each day it’s the same

You only care about one person – you

Not caring about what others are going through

I have learnt that you don’t matter at all

There’s others to pick me up when I fall

I have broke free of the past, free of the chains

Taken back control, grasping the reigns

I’m no longer the person you forced me to be

Time has passed on; and I’m finally free

That’s not the best of my poems, not by a longshot. But.. It’s jut something I had to get off my chest. I have far better poems, that one kind of… well, it sucks. But that’s okay. Anyway.  I do love my father, don’t get me wrong. But in the same way…. I hate him. Is that possible? To love someone so much that you hate him? To hate someone so much that you love him? Am I even making sense? I don’t know. All I know is I’m finally free of his sick mind games and cruel ways of being. I’m no longer his victim, a player in his game. He is finally out of my life (until he answers the next email, and these last few emails will likely be the last contact I ever have with me), and I am finally starting to achieve happiness.

Fluffy white clouds

In going through my files from… well, let us not talk about how old these are and how out of order my files are… I found this poem I wrote in 2006 for creative writing in high school. Making it a decade old. Shush. I’m not that old. 😉


So I present…


Fluffy White Clouds

fluffy white clouds,
against crystal blue,
floating. falling. shapeless.
we try to make them
into something they are not
castles. bears. dragons.

against the emerald cushion,
prickly. rough. sticky.
I stare up at the sky,
fluffy white clouds,
against crystal blue.

life. beautiful. simple.
starting without a shape,
trying not to fit
into the mold,
we are given.
trying to make it,
into something it’s not.

like fluffy white clouds,
against crystal blue.
it can look like
whatever we want
we could be
famous. beautiful. brilliant.
it all depends on the angle
and how we look at it.

fluffy white clouds,
against crystal blue
is life really as simple as this?
being able to mold it into
what we desire, what we long for
what we hope for?

fluffy white clouds,
against crystal blue.
molded into what we want,
and becoming what we desire
in life.