Published – from the Public Journal of Literary Thought

publishedMy expression has been copyrighted by time.

The greatest struggle I’ve had to face in my life has been finding a way to explore the many techniques of my own mind.  I have visions no one else has but yet perhaps share in a different unique interpretation.  And that’s what we are as poets:  interpretations seeking new outlets to solve the emotional puzzle of what’s written inside.  We create our own language poetically to be translated as an inspirational dialect spoken by many and understood by those who connect on a deeper value.  We are the thrill seekers, the lovers, the depressed and the challenged but we also are dare devils launching words into atmospheres of new perspectives and old perspectives not ready for change.  And this is where I admit that I had a sickness.  I had an illness I didn’t think there was a cure for until I found a new medicine called literature.  It was injected into my blood and ink poured out in great depth and I myself became one of these interpretations.

Fate is the great editor of transgression.

There was a revival within my own mind that released thoughts as lessons and ideas as new ways of healing.  There new feelings reeling through the printing press of my heart therefore publishing different emotions edited by definition.  I went from struggling with expression to manufacturing stanzas of relevance by being a witness to the publications of life known as Hughes, Plath, Milton, Rosetti, Black and Whitman.  They produced so many stanzas of time and discovery and so many metaphors of simply living with a new pulse known as words.  They were the doctors who cured my silence.  And now as I look out into the night I see the stars twinkling in a dark sky waiting for the sunset of a new day.  I see trees ready to be written and Rose bulbs ready to burst into the blossom of new poems.  And I see the reflection of the cover revealing my own book of life.  There are thirty-four chapters so far and many pages structured into the manuscript of a man who will linger into the archives of tomorrow.  My words will be the footprints left on the mind of my readers and future generations.  My words, our words will be the palpitations that will keep us alive forever.


Life has published my soul.

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