poetry

Why I Write Poetry: A Rhyming Poem

Why do I write poetry, you ask?

well let me think

Why when thrown in water do you swim and not give up and sink?


We are thirsty people and we don’t know what to do

We can’t slurp with just our tongues - it’s sad, I know, but true.

How lucky that collected drops can gather in a cup

Even better if hand-held so that we can lift it up


If you aren’t following this metaphoric shpiel 

I’m trying to describe to you the way I tend to feel

When I’m desperate to quench my existential throat

Gazing up at castle walls from in this shark-filled moat


Water water everywhere 

And not a drop to drink

Water water everywhere

Goes stagnant till it reeks

Water water everywhere

In tiiiiny plastic bottles

Water water everywhere

But none for baby turtles

Water water everywhere

It’s surging through the sewers

Water water everywhere 

The rats are microbrewers 


Nobody in power recommends we drink the rain

But seven years ago I realized eau de vie is worth the pain


My thoughts were a river on the outskirts of this town

If I didn’t somehow guide them I would very surely drown


So I became a poet (or some surely call me a clown)

Because I found the fluid from my faucets had turned brown


You may think digging wells is a pursuit where there’s no gain

But I can’t bear to watch our spirits sucked into a MAGA drain


The beauty of a poet’s life is that none are the same

And when our poets die we all go back to where we came


Book LAMARKS for stage performance, spoken word, hosting, and emceeing here.



When The Alps Call Akolade... Part 2

We wear it proudly

Spotted and scarred, beautiful

the worthy are blind

So.

I was wrong about the shoot dates. 

Usually, thinking you have work when you don’t is kinda awesome. But honestly, when you’re doing it right, I think the opposite is true. I like to think I was doing it right, because yoga and poetry with new friends doesn’t actually sound like a job. I actually really wanted to see this person again.

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Talking about narrative as a construct that both liberated humanity from the limits of evolutionary solutions, yet traps our potential behind societal barriers, as lunch time chitchat is sort of the key to my heart. Waxing poetic about the sweetness of grief reminding us that we have loved, that we can choose love again, and that love is real enough to feel was the dark chocolate dessert I could never say no to.

Also, Gemma was a total sweetheart and was moving to Colorado at the end of the week, so I wasn’t going to get to see her again EITHER. A true travesty, I haven’t quite recovered from.

(Just look at that smile)

I never know how to gauge new people. I often find myself talking to strangers like a trusted confidant. I think it’s because I genuinely love listening. I wasn’t sure whether I was just being humored or if we were all really connecting. I mean, it’s Los Angeles. Everyone’s your best friend you met one time. So feeling like I’d casually blown everyone off left me cautiously aware that I might’ve accidentally closed the door. Which felt pretty bad. Maybe I was overreacting, but I didn’t truly know anything about this person besides that they are a great conversationalist and do yoga:

(Perhaps also like invented some of it)

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A day passes by and I’m thinking about whether or not this invitation to go to her workshop was still open. I know people often offer things to be nice, but don’t always expect you to follow through. Especially in LA, where saying, “yeah! let’s do brunch.” Can also mean, “Bye, Felicia”

I literally booked fifteen people for a photo shoot once, and only one of them came.

I decided I’d try to purchase a ticket to the Workshop just to make sure I wasn’t being presumptuous, but it’s sold out. So I reached out to Talia and she says, “Just come, don’t be nervous. I’m bringing you as my guest.”

I felt so honored.

But I had no idea what was to come.

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More to come in the third and final installment…

When The Alps Call Akolade... Part 1

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Once, wings were broken

Grace is found in the danger

Brave? Foolish? Flying.

Destiny is calling me.

That’s a joke… Or is it? 

I don’t really know if I believe in destiny. I believe in possibility. Possibility is calling me.

The Alps are calling me.

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(Alps not pictured here)

In February I said, “I want to do a yoga teacher training. I want money I earn from doing yoga to pay for it.”

In March someone slid in my DMs after I posted yoga photos for a month and asked me to be in a commercial.

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I thought I was one of those scam things or a brand just trying to get me to buy their stuff and post it. 🙄

Then I discovered that it was Alo.Moves. (Not a scam! Phew! 😩) 

Alo is a yoga brand that has the goal of giving away as much free yoga as possible. They have relationships with a lot of inspirational figures in the yoga community and I’m really honored that they reached out to have me participate...

This is where the story gets crazy.

I brought my typewriter to set. I thought it might be fun to write people some poetry and share the beauty of this thing I do if there was any time. I wrote some poems for the crew, bid them all farewell and thought nothing of it.

Two months roll by and someone slides into my DMs again.

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It’s Alo.Moves and they want to know if I can do inversions. For a two-day shoot.

The answer, of course, is yes.

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(Spoiler alert)

I tell them I can do two days for sure. I get to set and I meet Talia. She’s the teacher for the video and both of us are pretty quiet when you first meet us.

As per usual, I bring out my favorite clickety-clackety ice-breaker and we start chatting about life between takes and through lunch. After we wrap Talia asks me if I can take a photo for her. She doesn’t know I love photography yet, but she’s super pleased and I don’t think anything of it. I’m charmed by how much she enjoys the photo if anything.

But then again the next day we get to talking. And it’s pretty extensive. It’s light, it’s heavy, it’s thoughtful... provocative occasionally and dark frequently, yet always beautiful. The second day, I pull out my actual camera and I take some photos. Talia tells me I’m welcome at her workshop over the weekend, and I’m honored, but I assume when you’re a yoga teacher, it’s just one of those things you tell people. (It’s not) So I tell Talia I’ll see her tomorrow, but I don’t. I thought I was potentially coming back for the extra days, but I end up not being booked.

I feel like a Jeeeerk.

More to come in Part 2

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(Yogi in down dog, begging for forgiveness)