Hand to Cheek

My mother used to hold her hand to my cheek to comfort me. I never had a blanket I was attached to, at  least not one I remember. All I can remember is a flash of a memory of me lying in my bed scared with my "super mario brothers" sheets and blue painted walls, and being comforted by her back right hand held tightly against my right cheek. Nothing in this world will ever comfort me the way that action did.

Just once more please!
Please great powers, great god, great universe, buried subconscious, please!
Come to me in dream, in meditation, in hallucination
Hold her hand against my cheek.
Let me know this once more,
Let me breath once again,
Let me carry the delicate notion far into my life
Refresh my memory
I just want to know it was real.
I want to know that I am still that little boy,
That scared boy whose fears are brought to submission
By the subtle touch of an angel.
I do not have any videos of her,
So I do not hear her voice;
And I do not see her move.
I just want to hold her hand
Against my olive skinned cheek;
I do not need to see her eyes, it is her touch where I see that I am alive.
My mother is gone, 17 years now.
And I am not sure of who she was,
So maybe with one simple touch
Her presence would be restored,
And I could move forward with one strong memory;
Of how it feels to be safe from harm.

I Am Scared I Know What Will Happen.

This seems powerful. There is certainly something lurking at or in me. I am falling to depression while loosing faith in humanity for good. I feel trapped in my own sulking, and am constantly looking at the actions of others as dissapointing. The selfishness, the unaware, the unhealthy, the fake, the material, the pretensions of the so called cool, and the hypocritical state of them all.... including me. My movements have always been slow in the early morning, and now they seem to be paralyzing as I go to bed with intention of rising early, but failing and falling to the stressful dreams that nuke me with anxieties of the past still swimming in my subconsciousness. I am tired. I am scared. This world seems to be losing, and I am often disappointed that I have empathy and sensitivity to things around me. At this point it seems to be doing nothing be wearing me down and making me weak. My best friend think I need to turn it into art, but I am exhausted with my own doubt, and people constantly let me down, but mostly myself. The financial burdens are layered on me and make me feel worthless and small. I need a miracle, or at least another job. I miss my family. I am worried about my brother closest in age. He is suffering beyond what I can imagine, and as a result this makes me feel selfish and weak. As though I should be able to be strong enough to figure it out, and thrive..... yet I sit with a state of loneliness and missing attention and love. Wanting to believe that I know I have plenty of it, but at the end of the day I now ignore myheart and block out any attempt of feeling frightened by watching television to avoid the face to face interactions with my doubts and fears. I am my biggest critic, I am my biggest tormenter, my most difficult obstacle, and a sad sad boy who feels hopeless sometimes. I am scared. I do not know where to go. It seems tragedy is certain, and I will end up the dissapointment that I brought upon myself. How horrible, how sad. I pray to the universe to please show me some guidance   , some strength, something to help me find joy within myself an quit comparing myself to others. Please keep me in mind, this is a tough spot to be in.

When Music is You.

I have been listening to James Blake for almost 2 years now and have always found a connection to his sound that helped bring emotions I did not know existed to the surface. Very similar to that, but on a very deeper level his new song "Retrograde" seems to have poetically spoken on my behalf on where I feel my life is at right now. 

It seems this is a song being sung by someones inner self to there outer existence. It seems as if a wiser James Blake or rather his character is singing to himself asking him to finally be strong, and move forward. I can relate to the lyric "Be the girl you love, be the girl you love". All I can think about is my mother, and how in my time of reflections and unraveling my deep trauma from my past, I sometimes think of the wonderful loving person my mother was, and how that person was my introduction to love, and as a result she still exist within me. "Show me why you are strong" as if self is telling self to prove it, prove all of it. Show yourself why you are strong, and do it, finally! As I approach my first full week of not going out or having a drink since I moved to SF, I can not help but dissolve into this song. Thank you James Blake. How beautiful it is. 

James Blake – Retrograde Lyrics

Verse 1:
You’re on your own, in a world you’ve grown
Few more years to go,
Don’t let the hurdle fall
So be the girl you loved,
Be the girl you loved

Chorus:
I’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong
Ignore everybody else,
We’re alone now
I’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong
Ignore everybody else,
We’re alone now

Verse 2:
Suddenly I’m hit
Is this darkness of the dawn
And your friends are gone
When you friends won’t come
So show me where you fit
So show me where you fit

Chorus:
I’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong
Ignore everybody else,
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
I’ll wait
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
I’ll wait
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
We’re alone now

Suddenly I’m hit
Is this darkness of the dawn
And your friends are gone
When you friends won’t come
So show me where you fit
So show me where you fit

Read more: http://www.lyricspremiere.com/james-blake-retrograde-lyrics.html#ixzz2KQwOFr7t

Losing The Honorable Dance

While I run towards the eyes of strangers that know nothing of me,
Doing my dance, taking in their possession and laughing as I dream this fairy tale dance.
And through the anxiety of my needing to be known,
I listen softly to the voices of my own.
And alone they make me, talking non-stop jabber
Filling this venomous heart with fading clatter.

I walk alone at the end of the dance
Hoping a pretty girl will uphold me as a chance
To rectify the vicious glance
of a culture driven on chemical romance

And then I wake with bulging eyes
Lying half dead, and half alive
Lying again for the thought of finding a friend
Who could take away this maddening trend.

Hollow once more, but it invokes these tears
Towards the silence of mediation, I always try and steer.
Spare me no sorrow, for I know I chose this way
I hope to dance once more
To a more purposeful sway.

Doller bill dance

while no matter of trails untouched,
and a breeze that holds a secret I yearned to know
still the currency of this systematic world
owns a space in me
one that occupies me in debt.
I can not and, though I wish to
Compare happiness beyond that state of value
and I do know universally speaking, there is more.
However, the reality of my realism sets its motion forward.
I want to have enough symbols of fortune
To provide a freedom of physical nature
that in turn will ultimately provide more space
for me that is, to ultimately be free.
And so my intention is set, really it is.
I want to be wealthy with gold
Not because I need it to be happy,
Only because the pressure is what it is,
and the system will not budge in my lifetime.
So I know it is a helpful tool, sad but true
To shape my driving love
And knock down the fake walls
That blind me more, then real walls could.

While I still wonder.

It has been awhile.
It has been my captivation, my inner struggle, my lonliness in this new city. My over doing it attitude, my nervous focused two tracked mind.
It is still the sweet music playing, the effortless happenings making it feel right.
There are also the sadness of the lost love
A minor insult to the character I try to be.
Foggy mornings I do not wake well, ever
Hard hitting dreams, and nights of anxiety that I cover with the memory of heavenly dance.
It is the chance I take, my hurt head, and exhausted efforts to make friends.
This is a new city. I am trying to adjust.
I am trying to balance this seemingly draining effort to connect with my past.
Where will it end.
Where does it begin. Wolf heads, and long morning nights.
A dreamers dance.
Time for another round.

SF possibilities

watch the better man get away with the dames.....
all instant and material... I think, I wish I knew
Dont want to hear the small talk....
enough with it
Forget them, him, her, and her.... The most beautiful dam is there,
now, yes
no more for the beep of ovens set.
All encountering an starving reality... no better city to be fresh.
his story, any hero story is full of self love.
I want that
I need that
Forgiveness first, trials ahead. blind the unknowing massive
With developing insecurity and insight in my head

I hear the bay.

Where rain goes away, in that clearing the gentle flush
Lighted dirty streets still seem better behaved,
This tea this lullaby indie vocal soothes the mystery of a day.
Locals are fine, here I am and here I am
No more worries, a day to hustle, to grind, to get it done.
What it is it? It is effort, to get effort done.
Write, smile, connect and love.
What might become of this if It falls loosely through shivering hands?
What would my mom say?
Turns out I have never done anything like this, and that is grand
Going for it.
Going in for the kill
The submission
A dialect
A poem, poems, words, all for you, all for me.
Why not?
I suppose More people have my back then I realize.
Game on, Let's roll, tides pulling,
Water is calling.

Dreaming on a San Francisco floor.

A dance thirst
Burning man themed grassy bubble
Spinning with head twisting
Sulking in the fireflies flickering in an early evening
The rotation of angles I did now could be spun.
That it was, and I became immersed in the movement.
And then I moved, so much it was as to float
The way I have been drifting in and out of micro climate, micro neighborhoods
There I landed, next to large creature with its tongue laying out of the side of its mouth.
"May I pet your dog?" A term often muttered in my waking life.
"She is a bit timid" a dream character spoke, but then there were the big dumb eyes of the beast.
I awoke before I could react.
And without any notion of waking, I spoke aloud what had just happened.
Noting, if was truly beautiful.

I fell to closed eyes again, watching a country festival come to place.
There was a competition I was partaking in.
Syntonic.
Recognizable was the depleted amusemnet park I had never visited.
My new friends, and dream lover I had never met.
We opted for a horse carriage ride of the thin mountain.
It was steep, so daringly steep I experienced a dream anxiety.
Curious and consious I held tight, wondering if this horse could hold the tight land.
We scuttled up towards the peak..... and that is when it happened.
I was on a horseback, a horseback mountain.
And without any understanding, the road down unfolded
A trail of a horses tailed laid a valley of beautiful swirling dark hair for us to cruise down.
I had ridden on a horse, up a mountain, which was actually the back of giant horse
And the road down was paved with the beautiful gently conditioned hair of dark brown...
Guiding us to a back entrance of a carnival of activity where I would again fall for a dream.

Omen of a heavy heart.

search, journal, reflect time and time again. 
Like soft piano keys, at ease.... I beg to be at ease
Then the realm of warm tea, a soothing matter of comprehension
All in the while, the stories of uncommon reaccuring reflection
Left with the dust that blinds me with the motion of now. 

For My Joy of Lilly

This one is for the one who saved my soul
The one who saw it, hiding deep in a burning spiritual volcano
She saw me, eyed me and loved me.
Believed in me and turned my head back around, so to face forward the way she asked me to walk.
She held my hand in a way that I realized I had hands that could again create a magic.
She fed me honor, love, humility out of her own heart
And those are today, the warmest dishes I have ever indulged.
I held her tight, warm, soft, safe, embracing the Yes that suggest we are together.
She saw the demons, I was scared. The demons show up when tested
We hurt sometimes, but it was, it is worth it.
She held me beautiful and bounty full of caring and warm minded alike-ness
We dreamed, we dreamed well.
We danced.... oh how we danced,
We giggled, and exploded with laughter.
She has a furry friend
I fell in love twice as a result of this heavenly bond.
And it scared me, commitment, earth shattering love, and admiration
We both never knew how else to be.
We had it all, except we did not know ourselves enough
And still, nothing remains the same
Except how we are, how we always are when the sun is right, and our song plays.
No one is going to love you more then I do.
No will ever know how I feel except me
No words, No touch, No dreams
Can ever replace or suggest the feeling you unfold on this man.
And Thank you for that,
It is in such a feeling of emotion, that I can believe in something greater then myself.

Family Soup

Taken from: http://wc.rootsweb.ancestry.com/cgi-bin/igm.cgi?op=GET&db=kylongley&id=I01428


As I move forward to running head on into parts of my past that have seem to have some underlining control on my present state, I am lucky enough to have friends who take some steps to helping me. My best friend Jessica found this for me, she wanted to read it, but I declined noting I needed to read it myself. I want to share this with you, as it does a good job of putting some of the basic struggles I experienced, and the confusion I am left with in writing for others to see what I am working with. Sigh..... So many unanswered questions, most that I will never know, but I will not ever be okay with my path until I take some initiative in researching what was of my family, where it started to go wrong, who my mother was, who my father was, their relationship, their families influence on their relationship and so on...... and the journey seems to currently have a purpose.

"Where do I begin"?

My eyes are opening, my heart is fluctuating, I am scared, but I am brave.
_________________________________________________________________________________

Angie Acebal Knowles was killed 20 Mar 1996 at Christiansburg, Montgomery Co., Virginia by her estranged husband Michael Knowles

FRIENDS REMEMBER A TROUBLED MARRIAGE
March 21, 1996. Page: A1
A few years ago when a friend described herself as a single mother, Angie Knowles responded, ``I'm a single mother who's married.''A cadre of Knowles' female friends gathered at the hospital Wednesday morning to offer support to her four children, her mother and each other. They stood in a small semi-circle sharing glimpses of Knowles' character, life and the signals of her impending death. Tears streamed from some of the women's eyes with each recollection, others stood frozen by the morning's shock. Lenore Jackson of Christiansburg reached under her glasses to wipe her eyes and said, ``She just wanted some peace, that's all she said to me.'' Knowles' search for peace sprung from a troubled 22-year marriage to a man she described to her friends as abusive - both physically and mentally. As recently as Saturday, Jackson said, Michael Knowles showed up at his estranged wife's home to deliver child-support money. He requested an electric screwdriver. Angie Knowles asked him to remain outside while she got the screwdriver, but he entered and left with their computer. Jackson said Michael Knowles had two more computers at home and only took his wife's to hurt her again. Friends said Angie Knowles' domestic troubles were not reflected in her personality. ``She was the most fun, delightful and cheerful person,'' said Kathy Habeeb of Christiansburg. Habeeb, however, said only one word describes Michael Knowles - ``monster.'' Angie Knowles, who was 43, was an active member of four PTAs and helped coach her sons' soccer and baseball teams as well as her daughter's softball and basketball teams. She helped begin the high school's post-prom party in 1990 and continued to work on the alcohol-free event. Friends recalled images of her in a station wagon with a load of children headed to a sporting event. Her father, who died last month, attended many of the games with her. He offered support to his daughter, grandchildren and other children in his native Spanish. Angie Acebal-Knowles arrived in New York City with her family from Spain when she was a child. ``She was always willing to help us in any way," said Art Price, director of the Christiansburg Department of Parks and Recreation. "She was one of those types of parents who lived to make life enjoyable for her kids.'' Knowles' children - John Michael, a James Madison University student; Vanessa, a high school senior; Dylan, a ninth-grader; and Ryan, a seventh-grader - have no one to turn to now, Jackson and Habeeb said. ``They are all alone except for friends,'' Habeeb said. Betty Ashbrook, one of Angie Knowles' closest friends, has opened her home to the children for now, friends said. Before she moved a month ago, Knowles took care of others' children at her home. Debby Barbour, whose son Aaron used to be in her day care, said Knowles did wonders. She said when Aaron sees anyone misbehaving, he says, "That would make Angie very sad if you did that." Connie Lowe, the Christiansburg High School PTA president, said Knowles kept people laughing no matter what the problem. "A lot of us fell back on Angie's humor and her smile," she said. "I don't have that now, [Michael Knowles has] robbed me of that. For whatever reason, he's taken that from me." Michael Knowles, being held without bond in the county jail Wednesday night, was born and raised in Christiansburg. After attending Virginia Western Community College for two years, he joined the Navy and met his future bride in New York City. They moved to Christiansburg when Angie Knowles became pregnant with her first child because "he didn't want to raise children in Brooklyn," said Pat Horne, Michael Knowles' sister. Horne said her brother worked two or three jobs to support not only his wife and children, but Angie Knowles' brother and parents, who lived with them for many years. "I know Angie is well thought of and she achieved a great deal, but she couldn't have done it without him working so hard to support them," Horne said. Eventually, Knowles dropped his other jobs and worked full time for the post office, delivering mail on the rural roads of Craig Mountain. Christiansburg Postmaster Arthur Duarte said the 19-year veteran was quiet, but dedicated. "He cares a lot about his customers," he said. "I wish all my employees were as conscientious as Michael." Horne, who is part owner in the Richardson-Horne Funeral Home in Christiansburg, said she and her brother have never been close. Still, she knew there were a lot of problems in his marriage. She said his family had been in an upheaval and he left for his trip to Israel to try to "find himself and try to get things back to an even keel." When he returned, on Valentine's Day, Angie Knowles had moved out. Horne said the family "expected him to kill himself because he was so distraught, but never did we dream he would take someone else's life." She said she thought her brother had accepted the separation; he had an appointment Wednesday with a lawyer and had put his house up for sale. She said he wanted to be a part of his children's lives, but would never try to take the children away from Angie Knowles. "I think he just snapped," she said, closing her eyes. "What he did was wrong and it's devastating to everyone. ... He'll suffer his entire life for this and then by the hand of God." Michael Knowles wrote stories as a hobby, and sent several letters to the editor of The Roanoke Times. Letters published in the newspaper encouraged the government to take a larger role in childrens' health care coverage, praised the movie "Schindler's List" for its educational value for children and suggested, possibly tongue-in-cheek, that the more effective way to beat Iraq during the Gulf War was to hypnotize the Iraqis with American soap operas. "All I really know is this:" he wrote in another letter, "once you judge another you invariably have to judge yourself, and nobody is perfect." "Try to remember that the next time you get upset. And for those lucky few who can forgive, Peace."
Staff writer Ray Cox contributed to this story.

March 21, 1996. Page: C2
ACEBAL-KNOWLES, Angelina, 43, of Christiansburg, died Wednesday, March 20, 1996. Arrangements by McCoy Funeral Home, Blacksburg.

SUPER MOM WILL BE MISSED
March 22, 1996. Page: NRV-1
Christiansburg folks knew Angie Knowles as that "little bitty woman driving the station wagon full of kids."She was only 4 feet 11, but everyone looked up to her.Mostly, we admired Angie for her commitment to her work. She had the most important job in the world and she excelled at it.She was a mom.Actually, a super mom.Many times I picked up a ringing phone to hear Angie's distinctive voice on the other end. She spoke with rapid enthusiasm and with a hint of...

AFTERMATH: DESTRUCTION, RESTORATION
March 30, 1996. Page: NRV-1
LISA K. GARCIA STAFF WRITER
The four children of Angie Knowles have faced many adult choices since a shotgun blast took her life 10 days ago. ``We just have to start having some family meetings and make some decisions," said John-Michael Knowles, the eldest and a 21-year-old junior at James Madison University. "Our goal is to stay together.'' The siblings - Vanessa, a Christiansburg High School senior; Dylan, a ninth-grader; and Ryan, a seventh-grader at Christiansburg Middle School - know John-Michael must finish college, he said. ``That's my role in this,'' he said. Their father, Michael Knowles, has been charged with murder, malicious wounding and two charges of attempted malicious wounding of a police officer. He was also charged with breaking and entering to commit malicious wounding and two firearms violations. He is being held in the Montgomery County Jail. He and Angie Knowles were estranged at the time of the attack. ``That one act destroyed and restored my faith in humanity,'' John-Michael Knowles said Wednesday. John-Michael said the restoration came when people banded together to raise money, offer advice and open their homes to his family. The financial outpouring started with an escrow account at First National Bank opened only hours after Angie Knowles' death by Fred Newhouse, a longtime family friend and senior vice president and branch administrator of the Christiansburg office. ``I saw an immediate need for the family; basically they lost their mother and father simultaneously,'' Newhouse said. He said the account is meant to address immediate expenses the children face like college bills and Vanessa Knowles' cap and gown for graduation. ``I'm extremely pleased with the response,'' Newhouse said. ``I would hope that interest would continue.'' John-Michael Knowles said he hopes the community support continues, too. ``I am so thankful for this community,'' he said. ``They've just gone above and beyond. I just can't imagine a family going through this without it.'' Knowles sat in the living room of a close family friend Wednesday and talked about his family and the days after his mother's death. His baggy jeans, loose flannel shirt and baseball cap are those of any typical college student. His words expose his maturity. It is a maturity he credits mostly to his mother's guidance and, in part, to the recent tragedy. ``My sister and I were talking about it and it's hard to swallow your pride and ask for help; my mother raised us to be independent,'' he said. He tugged at his baseball cap and looked out the window. The day's fading light hugged his face. ``It's hard to grow up overnight,'' Knowles said. Ever since their mother's death, the Knowles children have had to make many decisions. Knowles said they are fortunate that their mother had so many close friends who have been able to offer advice, emotional support and a place to stay. The children arranged the funeral and both John-Michael and Vanessa shared their feelings during eulogies they wrote and presented. Now they are meeting with people who can tell them what their options are for the future. They've contacted social services, a lawyer and others who can tell them what resources are available. They are gathering information to empower themselves, John-Michael Knowles said. ``I keep a notebook with all the things I need to know ... the different options,'' he said of the enormous amount of information he and his siblings have had to absorb. ``You take everything stable in your life and then it's gone,'' he said. ``We have no place to call home.'' Knowles said members of what he calls his second home - James Madison University - where he is majoring in public relations with a minor in business, have been completely supportive. The president of the college is working to explore options for finishing the semester through the mail and his fraternity brothers are raising money as well as offering emotional support. ``I know frats have a bad reputation and people say they never do anything, but when I looked out and saw 70 of my brothers at the funeral, that was great," he said. Knowles said he used to plan everything in advance. He liked to look to the future and map things out. Now he says he is coping by not looking too far ahead. To say it is overwhelming is an awesome understatement, he said. ``I make little goals and little lists and when I accomplish something I can feel good. I can only take it one day at a time,'' he said. Knowles, his sister and two younger brothers are coping. He said the reality of what has happened has not entirely hit them yet. ``We're getting through it together.''

A SON'S EULOGY FOR HIS MOTHER
March 30, 1996. Page: NRV1
This is an excerpt of John-Michael Knowles' eulogy for his mother, titled "Where do I Begin?" He read it before hundreds of people at her funeral a week ago.It's hard to say everything you want to tell a person in this lifetime, in only a few minutes. I want to begin by telling you what my mom meant to me and my brothers and sister.Never have I, nor will I ever, meet someone as special as my mom ... I have never known a woman to be everything to so many people. I have never known a woman to face so many trials and tribulations and continue on with a smile. I have never known a woman to always see the good in people, and always put the thoughts and needs of others in front of her own, on a daily basis. My mom believes in us when no one else would. She tells us to never settle for mediocrity. She opens our eyes to worlds that we have never dreamed of. She shows us things that we never knew existed. She loves us more than we ever thought possible. She gives us the drive, ambition and emotion to not to be scared to try! She gives us the backbone, support and caring to not to be scared to fail! She instills in us her values, dreams, understanding of the way life was, is and most importantly, should be. She is our confidant, motivation, role model and best friend. She truly is our everything. However, the intrinsic strength that our mom possessed lives on within each of us. And we will make it ... because that is what she would want. We all are suffering, grieving and hurting ... Everyone including myself is looking for answers, however, there are none to be found. We constantly ask ourselves: Why now? Why her? And most importantly - why did this have to happen? I don't really know what to say, believe, think or even feel; to make the pain subside. I look around the room and everyone is hurting because my mom is gone. She has touched so many lives, in so many different ways, that it makes us want to stop the world and fix the injustice that has just occurred. However, we must realize that what my mom gave is everlasting. It cannot be taken away by anyone or any horrible act. When the dust settles and the phones stop ringing, that is when our true battle begins, and when the onset of pain is intensified, but it is only then that we as a family and community must come together because that is where our strength lies. I want to share with you what my mom would say if she had a chance. Realize that you only have one chance in life and you never know how long that time may last. Give that hug, mend that relationship and tell that person you care, and make the most out of every day because tomorrow is not that far away, and no one knows what tomorrow holds. That would be my mom's advice because that is the way she lived life! Any of you that know me can look in my eyes and see that I am hurting badly inside and I miss her so, so much. All I want is to talk to her once more and for her to give me a hug, and tell me that everything is going to all right. I wish that she could shield me from the darkness as she always did in my youth. But regretfully she can't do these things any more. But she will always live on through the hopes, dreams, accomplishments of myself and my family and because of that: She will always live on in my eyes.


KNOWLES FAMILY EXPRESSES GRATITUDE
June 16, 1996. Page: NRV-2
Since the tragic loss of our mother, Angie Acebal-Knowles, there has been overwhelming kindness and support for us from this community. The simple gestures of kindness are too numerable to list. Our family is greatly appreciative of every thought, prayer and deed that has been offered to help us through this trying time. We have not had the opportunity to express our gratitude to each individual who has been there for us. We hope you will accept this letter as a token of our appreciation. We wanted to let you each know that there were no acts of kindness that went unnoticed, no matter how great or small. We are each trying to continue on in our daily lives to the best of our ability. The support you have each given us on a continuing basis has helped us tremendously to begin the healing process. We have come to need each of you to rebuild our faith and our future. We hope you will stay by us in the days and years to come. We cannot imagine traveling the new road our lives have taken without your support. We would like to thank each of you who have contributed to our trust fund established at First National Bank of Christiansburg. The consistent monthly pledges have helped us tremendously to make it through this time. We offer our heartfelt thanks for your generosity and commitment to our future through your donations. We, as a family, hope that you will look at your own family and realize how precious life is. Please use our loss to strengthen the bonds between yourself and those you love. As you have demonstrated these past few months, the positive impact of a united, loving community is truly a treasure. We are so fortunate to live in a town of people who exemplify the very best qualities of caring human beings. We are forever grateful to each and every one of you for caring enough to make such a difference in our lives.

John-Michael, Vanessa, Dylan and Ryan Knowles
Christiansburg

Shivers Down The Grey Day

Can't keep running away
The harmonics of horns wander through cold ears
Oh how it shivers down
Truth is sound, that are the chills creeping on a cloudy day.
Surely this is beauty

Dull days frighten the thought that light is faded.
Behind ever grey cloud cluster
Lays the source of earths energy
Smoke in mirrors, moderate dawns, slow mornings
Can't keep running away.

Climate masked, the smiles strangers pose.
Delighted that my outfit is fitting for a lost poet,
And stares glaze the glass
Of red beet juiced with the fruits of a healthy labor
In this nourishment, I hope to replenish and regain.

On and On.
The forward progress, the pull from a nervous nature
Telling my ears,
Telling my song
Can't keep running away,
When shadows remain.

Chained Voice, Desperate Scribe

chained to a dessert pallet like the night we followed the northern star
I shined not for.
Alone and against the grains of time,
There were endless amount of crystals that stubbed my spread toes
An adventure for nothing more then the mystery, of chasing shining objects.
Those twinkles were saturating enough
In despair I could not agree more with their blinks
Or down the rabbit hole,
The portal of suns and moons dancing in line
Standing next to heartbreak, finding a slow breath
The ramble became a chase
No more do I nourish with fantasy of you
Gone with midnight bliss with frozen clouds
Only to repair as nothing more then a mis-esembled you
Reflecting your lack of empathy, that shield now broken.
Goodbye no more, but please be gone.
Now I know it is all a constant struggle
A lament of your waging war on self certainty
The misunderstood child you seem to lock away
Never to be seen,
always being heard in a scribe I will stop trying to decode.

Fading Dreams

I wake up wishing I could shimmy away the groggy cobwebs left on me from a nights sleep where I am stricken with anxiety, and the intensity of a imagination that runs wild. I constantly awake wildly wanting to run back to figure out how it should end. Dreams never end, bad or good. I only wish I could wake to a waking dream, where my body would stretch itself into the universe and I could feel light on my grace. These days, my pulsing uncertainty seems to give way to gravities pull, as I find myself a bit stuck. And so I write on boards where my cries can be heard, hoping for nothing other then a faint thought that someone will feel me, and I can expand my heart even more. This gives way to become a child of expression, a child of open hearts, a child of the universe.
I get down to the funk, for I got the funk.
Sometimes the funk is not what it seems.
I find myself in a funk, one where I struggle to find the rhythm of my souls path.

"A Quiver for Falling Elfs"

I stretch my caffeinated shivers to convey a message where words fall short.
It is upon you and shivery of the daunting stylistic love 
that floats like bay fog, gently exposing your cover
I know not how a legend can reappear 
like pink moons and crystal castles
So I string together a bundle of intention
 to let my grace fall into your story ridden hands
In hopes that you will scan my mystic
 with the dark sword that braces your side.

A poem for a dark prince named Johnny

Losing Protective Skin

Draw me near for my search is deep.
My time will release itself upon my reality check
Hide my eyes, I do not know if I want to see what is there.
Shatter me into nothing more then the child I wish I could see.
Hear me cry, take my hand, and let me cry
I do not want to be afraid.
I have escaped for so long
Yet this shadow still tracks me
Often it flirts with me
And I enjoy its company when the time is right.

Who will love me when I have nothing left but a blank space
I must have no choice.
I must configure my way into new skin.
Shaking off dust like a window seal in an attic rarely visited
Beauty and Sadness are my cousins.
One is nothing without the other.
There is no where left for me to go.

Ashes of a Tragic Volcano of my Heart Set Free

My brother Dylan had to explain to his 9 and 6 year old sons as lightly as possible what was about to go down.

We looked for a sign, no sign was given except that we were loosing the sun.

A lady stopped and told us a better place to spread our ashes...... weird! Rude?

Kristen, my new sister joined us..... that meant a lot to me..... probably all of us.

We were going to light lanterns and send let them set sail, but the wind was blowing inland. Oh well.

Then it became very real as my sister pulled out what looked to be like 3 huge bags of some illegal substance..... she said she had some explaining to do to TSA, as the bags did not contain illegal drugs, they merely contained the remaining of our loved ones who we had lost. Mom, Emma (grandma), and Papa (Grandpa).

The sun was fading over a volcano.....

A summary of spreading burnt love:


I saw my first ever sunset over the ocean as my family and I spread the remaining ashes of my mother, my grandmother, and my grandfather. I held ash of what used to be the shell that held the souls of those who where most close in creating this man who writes these words, who holds this passion, and who wed those tears that fell into the North Pacific as my ashes flew into infinity filling the ocean, just as my tears did. The island in the distant sheltered the embrace of a sun that was setting on years and years of sorrow and sadness from the tragic deaths of the adults I loved most. The wind whispered as my family embraced. We were doing exactly what my mother always wanted us to do with her remains. I thought hard about my relationships with each, I felt most moved by my grandmother whose ashes we spread first. I have yet to let myself start to heal from her tragic death that I witnessed when I was 18. We had a very hard, love hate relationship. It is too complicated to get into at this moment, but as I let her burnt remains seep through my fingers I felt her, I saw her, I loved her again. It was sad. My grandfathers remains were blessed like the man he was, the jokester, the man addicted to sweets, the chef, the footballer, the goofball.... all of it, gone with the wind.
Then my mother, my sweet mom. This was her time. I walked 20 feet out into the water soaking my pants up to my thighs, my other brothers and sister took their own space...... I did now want to let her go, I cried as she caught the undertow. I held on to a peace of her bone thinking I should keep it as my secret. I stared at it as if it was a piece of gold that I could hold onto forever, but I told myself this was the time, or rather "now is the time, ryan" and with a single deep breath and one more glance at the sun saying goodbye, I said aloha mi mere. Goodbye my mother, swim well..... and that will be the last time I ever hold her body again. How sad, how beautiful.

My family and I joined together for one more embrace as we took the rest of the bag of ashes and let them go.... we let her go. Everyone was teary eyed, but my dear sister and I were shivering in our voices and hearts. We are the sensitive ones, we are the feminine ones, the softest of the 4. I dug my head into her shoulder because she knew I knew, I knew she knew...... how beautiful, how sad.

Eye See You

Don't threat from the eye of the otherwise shadow.
Say hello.
Ask how there day is.
Watch shadow form too colors
Watch as life expands
One kind gesture
Simple acknowledgement
I see you
I recognize you exist
I come from love.
let me reach out.
lets spark something
watch it dissipate into the universe
all of it, I will hold your hand
I will caress your heart.
with one look
So to say.
Shift your perspective.
Know eye is rooting for you
eye believes in you
Be the best, you.
eye will always be there
eye is always here.
eternal support.

A Poisoned Portrait

The most ugly, beautiful women ever.
Striking into souls with deep blue eyes.
Swearing nothing, confusing everything
She destroys bonds like a child takes to a bubble
She could be loved, she is loved, she does not know how to be loved
All of it she takes
To the misery of some sad story she creates.
Soft delicate skin
Protecting venom that somehow found its way into her heart.
A sad story indeed.
Mostly for her,
But let us not forget all those who tried and failed.
I am one of them.
My efforts are leaving me blinded and heated.
An uncomfortable postion that I wish to drop
To breath her out
To not wish her anymore sadness
Instead hold a strong heart,
even though....
She hates the story she created about me.
That is the hardest part.
I can not make her see me for me
She insist on painting pictures that suit her protection
I am a casualty of her separation within a dark imagination
Her poor heart.
Her poor child.
I will have to continue to love her from a distance.
Always wishing she would see me
Not her portrait of me.
Tortured soul.
Give your fire a chance to breath.