Zoom, Click, Fast-forward.

Goals for the upcoming season:

Fact: I was a strange kid; I still have quirks like the best of them.

When I say “strange,” I mean that my type of “play” was a little different compared to other boys.

On the playground, I lived in my imagination, conquering the monkey bars, owning the play castle, shooting energy balls at other Dragon Ball Z lovers like myself. At home, I played with toy cars and built Bionics, played with Lincoln Logs, and Pokemon cards, as well as Yugioh.

But for the most part, my imagination did not stop on the playground, and at home, I also played with other types of toys.

My step-dad said it best when he tried to send me to my room, after having sent my siblings to their respective rooms: “Justin, I would send you to your room, but I think you would enjoy it too much. I would send you outside, but you would probably find a string and be just as entertained.”

Punishment alluded me, because everything entertained me.

Amazing, the power of imagination.

Anyhow, I spent a lot of time at my elementary school desks making my pencils and erasers talk to each other. They had full-on dialogue between themselves. At home, my sister’s beanie babies – and my own stuffed animals –  held concerts or reenacted scenes from The Lizzie McGuire Movie.

All that to say, I was easily distracted because I was constantly aching to create. The same still applies today.

Writing evolved to editing, editing to photography, photography to acting, acting to singing, again singing to writing, writing to journaling, journaling back to camera work, and recording to editing.

Round and round it goes.

I long to create and refine. Do you have the same desire – or a hunger like it?

This hunger calls to me to continue to adventure, and so I will.

In the very near future, I will be developing a YouTube vlog. It will be, I think, my fifth attempt.

[These were the predecessors: first a banter blog with my college roommate, second a “singing” channel with a college friend, third a relatively successful challenge blog with friends, and fourth a trial at the beginning of this year to test and see if I still enjoy video-making. I do.]

The channel will catalog the new upcoming season of my life. And I am so excited, especially because I bought two new books to help me out!

Happy adventure! If you have the hunger like I do, try something new and exciting!


free verse

I heard it said, in wisdom,

“When you look back, you delve into depression.”

Sure, I have regrets – choices not made.

But it drove me to blackout in busyness.


Then, I heard it said, also in wisdom,

“When you look forward, you’re crippled by anxiety.”

Yes, I give thought to a lot of things.

But when I did not plan for the future, I blacked out all the same.


Later, I heard it said in better terms than these –

As the ivy winds it’s way around the trunk

And strangles the crown of your inheritance,  remember,

“We never graduate navigating the fallenness of this world.”


a sestina

How does one take a year and make a blanket

Statement about every nitty-gritty bit of character

Development, from heart break to fear to excitement then unrelenting kindness?

How does one glance back at companions,

Both those he has yet to meet and the ones he once

Knew would rush into the open auburn?


When looking out at the vast auburn

Sky, it’s as if the Lord had taken a blanket –

A single thread woven into every shade of red all at once.

He, in His vast knowledge and wisdom, put His very character

Into the layout; I know my companions

Can see it, well Him, too – such kindness.


Grace – why mistake it for mere kindness?

Scarlet – only I could mistake it for auburn.

Family – as if they were lowly traveling companions.

Security – comfort mistaken as a cloth-like blanket.

Jesus whispers, “Yes, if you would hear, you would know I am the lead character.

Listen, son, just this once.”


Why ponder this once?

Why stop at His kindness?

Is there not also joy? Peace? Goodness? So much more to His character?!

Was He not beaten to what – to disfigurement at the shade of dry auburn?!

Was there not, in mockery, placed around Him a purple, ratty blanket?!

And looking down with his compassionate eyes, He saw enemies, no companions. . .


To lay one’s life down for his companions. . .

He did it just once.

But it was a blanket

Promise to all. Kindness. . .

To show us the Father’s love. Auburn

Leaves fall to the ground, but in spring they change character.


In spring, they come to life again. New character –

Same life, same love, inviting companions

To fellowship in memory of the dying auburn.

The leaves only fall once,

But so they rise to sit at the right hand of Kindness.

Trust in this, more than you might trust in any security blanket.


How does one take a truth and make a blanket

Statement about – well, more than just kindness?

And how could one speak it just once?



Italian sonnet

Shattered portrait – a chance to start again –

And sweet prose addressed from quite a distance:

Friendships lost for all time, not existence.

Typed-up, and yet not my words – not my win.

They were simply something that I missed –  thin.

Some days they jabbed, stabbed, lacking eloquence.

Other days the words roared soft compliments.

Still I recall when I made my first friend.


By the end, there was a dance to my step,

But the beginning was all rage and tears.

Woe! From my one fiction to another:

I look back on the note to Him I kept,

More heart, blank slate, in those few words than fear;

Kiss the night, “Bye,” just like all the others.


free verse

A scrawling scribe

Sat at his dingy desk

Day-in, day-out.


And not enough nights

He took trips;

Snuck out, snuck in.


The thoughtful thespian

Stood on stinky stages;

Masks were worn and un-worn.


The forever family

Transformed terrifically;

People left; others came.


Those dreary days

Made life worth living;

I had the time of my life.


Shakespearian sonnet

“To sit in solemn silence…” Ha! To think:

Grasping bits of the past, forming the now,

Reconciling the gaps, mending the brink

Between what was, with whom, and the somehow!


Her voice was just as clear as cellophane.

She was a mistress of celibacy.

“Words, words, words,” and yet hers were not in vain.

Quick smile, she wrote, “My blessings go with thee.”


An inspiration, strongest impression –

Vocabulary met vernacular.

What, ho! By providence they bore a son!

Wisdom, she wrought, carried further than her.


Oh, Wisdom, one who pampers and protects,

Your shine outweighs the emptiness of sex.


a limerick

Back in the day, with my great-grandparents,

I’d take short trips, bringing geese some presents.

The place: Memorial Park.

To this day, it doesn’t make sense –

Did the birds deserve, from me, such a bark?