The Dove


Compiled of beautiful chaos is the face of madness and love.
In mid space she inhales her last breath taking it all in.
Harboring light in the dimmest of places, never purging herself of its peace.
Pure and white is the dove.
With wings spread wide across a blood red sky, she soars above, breaking through the blistering heat of this fight.
Leading you with blurred vision, withered weary arms and forked tongs to lucidity, potency, integrity, in flight to infinite heights.
~Giuseppinna Zappulla


You Will Remember Me 01/01/2013

A connection such as this is to infinite to be brushed away by a slight shift in time. It will linger in the air you breath, enter your veins, flow through your blood stream awakening all of your senses and pound at the walls of your heart. Until you let it into your mind and remember, again.

~Giuseppinna Zappulla

Sleep seals the deal without compromise. Binding flesh to remain where it ought not live and breath. Clouding minds with its own agenda of choking the cords that speak words of truth. Limp lie your arms and legs, limbs paralyzed by its promise of rest. Sleep seals the deal with tales of fantasies indulged in your imagination ensuring no restoration. Sleep.

Never lend your ears to its command.

~Giuseppinna Zappulla

I’m Back To Giving Back

This past week and a half has been trying to say the least. I decided to start this blog at the beginning of the month with the intension of posting as much as possible. Other than using this as an outlet to share my thoughts, interests and poems there is really no set goal at the moment. However, I do have a plan. The plan is to just be myself and have fun without worrying about deadlines, demands, or an audience. I suppose my goal or priority here is to create a space where people feel at home, at ease, inspired, encouraged, and lifted up out of whatever troubles they may be experiencing. Who doesn’t need encouragement, inspiration or that little pick me up at times?  I know I certainly do. Continue reading

Are you a writer, poet, journalist or something greater?

Strange as it may be when I pick up a pen or begin typing I very rarely know what I am going to write. Most often I am just flooded with billions of important topics racing through my mind. At times it’s as if I suffer from A.D.D or some sort of memory loss. If I don’t get to a piece of paper and pen quickly enough I lose all valid interesting thoughts or concepts. When I say lose I do mean gone forever. My imagination can either be over active or lame and lifeless which is most frustrating. Writers block they call it. There are days when I feel  so strongly about something I know I must write about it. I must put it into words. It needs to be recorded for humanity’s sake.  I’ve learned I must feed that fire less it will fizzle and a part of me dies far before its existence each time. The problem is feeling and thinking are exact opposites. When emotions run deep in the moment, true and steaming with passion, the words just melt onto a screen or paper as if they were tear droplets falling from your cheek uncontrollably. There is no thought process, it just happens naturally. Literature in likeness to most art seems to take on its own livelihood and the author is the vessel used to convey it.  Sentence after sentences of thought and emotions gush out like a damn that has been broken by force, there is no stopping the current. When deep rooted long-term suppressions of heartache, anger, empathy, loss or love surface through suppressed memory of emotions or thought, though slightly receptive to small glimpse of events coupled with an uneasiness I find these are the things we are most haunted by. These are the stories, the poems we need to write about most. Continue reading

Deep In The Fire

Bleeding dreams, hearing screams of demons stream from deep in the fire.
Cast out and stricken into a fissure engulfed of  flames in this maelstrom of  famished dead born creatures deep in the fire.
Silence of guidance fills the air and lingers in the dominant smoke of a vile sound that thrives here deep in the fire.

Continue reading

An Infinite Light

Once upon a nightmare within a daydream
A screeching scream took all of what was left in me
Lifted upright from a place of which I lay at times
I whispered back, “Hey,”
Towards that screeching screaming sound that night
“Can you hear me?”
For a single solitary moment there was not
A single solitary solace sound to be heard nor understood.
“Who’s there?”
I demanded sheepishly within that REM sleep of that once upon a nightmare in a daydream.
I had to know, who or what,
If any living thing it could be.
When suddenly, in that daydream within a nightmare it howled back at me, “Yoooooooooooooou!” Continue reading