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Your eyes were open but you did not see…
You walked your path but you did not believe,
in yourself…
You struggled with self-doubt…

Her hand was there but you did not grab it…
Her path was open but you refused to walk it,
with her…
She struggled with letting go…

Their past will always be their future…
Two souls intertwined, forever bound,
to each other…
They struggled with moving forward…

They walk their paths, separate but near…
Accomplishing self-goals for the bigger picture,
They don’t even see it…


This City


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I am writing a series of short stories that will eventually intertwine. Here is the beginning to the first story in the series. Now this is my second draft and I am working on a third now. I have a problem with present and past tenses, ha-ha. But this story is about 13 pages long. This is just the beginning 2 or 3 pages. Please enjoy and any comments are much appreciated…


Her cigarette burns as the sun set behind the Tower Bridge. The cool air blows through her curly chestnut hair, hinting that fall was coming. She took another drag as it became darker and the last bit of sun glistened on the bright golden bridge. She flicks the rest. They always leave a bad taste in her mouth towards the end, almost as if it’s a reminder that she shouldn’t be smoking anyway. She decided to head through the cobble-stone streets of Old Sacramento towards a destination not thought of yet. All she knew was that she didn’t want to be stagnant any loner, so she walked. She hugged her jacket a little closer as the wind began to pick up. It was always colder by the river. She hurried through the smell of fudge being made fresh at the chocolate store towards the beginning of the mall that isn’t anymore. She decided to take J street, where you could see the new Kings arena being built into the non-existent downtown mall.

She walked with a blank expression on her face, carrying no glimpse of what was going on in her head. There were people on the street but she didn’t notice them. They seemed like blurs of existence in her life. Just blurring past her in an endless continuous motion, one that could only manifest downtown amongst the suits and state-workers. She decided to get a coke icee, those were always a good choice, even in the cold. She decided to head towards the Seven Eleven on J street. A gust of air blew the scent of the urine filled alleyways into her nostril forcing the first expression onto her face all day. One of anticipated disgust. She lit another smoke as she trudged on blankly.

 “Can you spare another?” asked a homeless man that was sitting on the sidewalk a couple blocks away from the 7/11.

“Sure.” she said as she hands him her last cigarette.

“Oh that’s okay if it’s your last.” he said.

She wasn’t sure what to make of the homeless man, who has nothing and who was willing on giving up possibly his only chance at a smoke that night. She stared at him blankly for a moment as her cigarette burned slowly. She flicked her smoke and took a drag as he said, “It’s okay girl.”

“Please, you have nothing.” she said rather quickly.

“That’s it though. I have nothing and I know that. You have something and having nothing when you have something is worse than my situation.” he replied.

As he said this his eyes pierced through her. She shivered at his piercing glare. He must have seen the loss in her eyes. Not the physical loss of someone but the loss of self. The loss of everything you knew and the look of having no one to lean on. She still couldn’t grasp what he was saying. Instead she smiled at him and wished him a good night. She knew she was going to buy more smokes with her icee but didn’t argue. As she walked on she heard him shiver as the wind blew passed them. She made it to 7/11 and bought her icee, pack of smokes, and a hot dog and hot coco for the kind homeless man. He gave her something she didn’t have earlier, or maybe never had, he had given her comfort.

She walked back in the direction of the man but when she reached the area he was at he was gone. She looked around but saw no trace of the man. She looked at the area he was at and sat down. The wind picked up for a bit and she began to regret her icee choice. She sat there in the mans spot drinking the hot coco and eating the hot dog. She didn’t have as bad as this guy did. She started to think of her life and how she got here. She didn’t like her past. It hurt too much.

When she was four years old she remembers her mother kissing her on the forehead and crying through her deep blue eye shadow, “Good-Bye Kit, I love you,” she said. The blue eye shadow she only wore on one eye. She told Kit and her brother, Shane it was because she was pirate. But her mothers face was always a blur, except her eye shadow.

After Shane turned 9, their father began beating him. At first for small things like entertaining her or leaving toys out. Eventually their father drank so much he would beat Shane because he was bored. He would kick her around too every once and awhile but usually she hid in the back of the closet reading books by flashlight. Shane kept her father at bay and took a lot of beatings to the point he started standing up for himself, which only made things worse. This is where she usually stops. She never goes further.

She packs her smokes and lights another one. Her mouth is dry but all she has is icee. She drinks it up and smokes her cig. The smell of rain begins to slowly fill the air. It will rain tonight. She smiles and feels warm as if she can hear Sacramento and feel her land embracing the upcoming water. California has been thirsty for awhile now and this little bit of rain means hope to her inhabitants. Kit is too cold now and she has work in the morning so she begins the trek home. She just hopes her power is still on.

Day 20 Poetry Challenge


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All I have ever wanted was to be free
Bound by nothing
Carelessly skipping through poppy fields
Everything, everyone passing me by
Frowns upon their faces
Graciously they walk on by
Hours on end we trudge through life
Indefinitely bound to one another
Jams play in each persons ear as we ignore each other on the street
Kids begging the attentions of their parents
Ladies snap chatting their lunches
Men admiring their beards
No one aware of anything around that doesn’t involve them.
People just pushing through the city
Quiet in their ways, never begging for conversation
Reserved they keep to themselves
Soundless is the outside world
Transformed by the silence
Utilizing the space
Violently shouting for others
Welcoming company
Xenophobia setting in
You wanted company but only like minded company
Zephyr winds blow away any thought on being free…

the poet's billow

It’s 4/20. And if pot was legal nationwide, this prompt would be very different…

Today, write an abecederian poem. It’s when the first letter of each line follows the order of the alphabet. So, the first line starts with A, the second with B, the third with C, etc. In the end you should have a 26-line poem.

Here’s one by Michelle Bonczek Evory (yours truly):

Lake Affected

April 11th and through my Michigan window: no surprise, really:

Blizzard. The small sidewalk trees sag under fluff and sky.

Cindy says she can’t take it, this weather. She misses

Dallas, the blue bells, has had enough of the lake’s snow globe

Extending its stay beyond this season’s home opener, yellow

Flowers and late night light for late nights

Grilling. Her hand opens back toward Texas like a beauty queen’s,

Her eyes bat their long lashes: Take me back old…

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You can never drink enough water


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I am always thirsty. I feel this post poses very interesting questions. Questions that beg gaining further knowledge on not just the world but ourselves. We begin to question the knowledge we have. For instance is the relationship gained while alone, having nothing mean as much as when we are not alone? It seems easy in my opinion to turn to God when we have nothing and feel alone. Because that’s it, we have nothing, but when we have everything and do not need, are we just as grateful? I feel we are not. I feel when we have nothing we are grateful once we achieve something but then that’s it. We keep gaining and then fall off from God. I have done it. I have been so sad and depressed and did nothing but turn to God daily for hours. But then I found a sense of self-love and pride and stopped relying on God. Reading this post made me realize that just because things are good does not mean we no longer need God. No, we always need him and we need to always be grateful for us getting to where we are.

You can never drink enough water

I ask myself am I more  at will for him to use me as his vessel behind bars and of course God quickly answers me no.He says no son for that was only the  preparation for your mission here.As i still ponder on that question Engaged mentally but spiritually broken not allowing Gods voice to be digested into my starved spirit that was seeking for daily bread.God say’s again son for you have seen me perform miracles before your eyes in jail.You have had whole nights of me revealing you revelations where your heart could not do anything but cry because you felt unworthy of hearing such enlightening wisdom. Son I have spoken to you and provided you with the very answers you seek. So believe me when I tell you If I can do all that while you were in there imagine what I am going to do while…

View original post 314 more words

#TheRainFiles 1.0


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I am what you would call a pluviophile. I am someone who gets peace during the rain. I also get most of my inspiration during rainy days, not because I am stuck inside with nothing to do but because the rain symbolizes so much for me. It puts me into a peaceful mood. So now when it rains I have a writing series I call “The Rain Files”. The writings could be poems, random thoughts or legit rants. Here is one installment from “The Rain Files”. And I only write into “The Rain Files” when it rains, obviously. Ha-ha.

Once The Rain Stops

The rain stopped…
The pen dropped…
She had found herself,
seeped within the lines of the page like the water that had drenched the earth that day,
that day she wrote beneath the dripping tree,
soaking up its energy,
And letting her soul burst onto the page,
Letting her thoughts be known if not to the person they belong then at least to herself,
Because without the others in her head she could clearly see herself,
Clearly like when the rain is gone,
The rain stopped…
The pen dropped…
She had found herself…

White Blank Page by AlyKat


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My biggest fear is a white blank page
begging me to write my thoughts
urging me to find some words
to convey what I’d rather not.

It stands empty and alone
collecting dust in-between the lines
bringing forth many thoughts
that shelter my light, and kill my shine

It itches at my fingers, begging them to move
towards the pen, its friend, that is dry with ink
it haunts my sleep and morning coffee
still urging me to think

My biggest fear is a white blank page
that I cannot fill with thoughts
I sit and write a little each day
when I would rather not

This white blank page can’t bring me down
its lines no longer collecting dust
the pen that once was dry with ink
no holds all my trust

So i sit and write each thought down
making sense of my life’s path
between these lines I hold my truth
All my sadness, happiness and wrath

I cannot fathom what I would do
if I could not write my thoughts
So I sit and write all my feelings down
And find the things that haunt