From Within

They did not go to Sunday service. There was a rift between them that needed tending to. As the little one babbled over breakfast, he attempted to speak healing words to his wife. His hopes were that she could move on from the past, just let it go. With earnest ignorance, he was unable to understand why it still bothered her so. She had everything she was told she wouldn’t, a husband, a home, a child, an education, she had the beauty, style, and grace some lacked.

In only a few swift words, he realized too how he held onto the past; how ironic, all this time he was ready to analyze her and express his wish of putting the past in the trash, and here he was; still being mastered by childhood memories that had not quite healed.

As she spoke her peace, he realized what role he played in all of this. Sabotage from within–yes, that is exactly what it was. His indecisiveness about what he wanted, the pain of past let downs constantly hovering, clouding reality, obstructing his perception of things. He pondered for quite some time how his behavior, his lack of self-examination, and then prideful self examination, even feelings of frustration came to be an imploding device in his relationship. For as self-aware as he was, it was he who was sabotaging their marriage. Impatience, lack of understanding, yes he was to blame. Could it be he lit a fire and blamed her? Could it be he held in one hand a canister of fuel and a match in the other, looking to her as the culprit? Indeed, for he allowed the past to become a voice which tyrannized his present routine. It kept him air tight, unaware of the anguish his spouse carried within her aching heart.

If there is a lesson to be learned, he gathered it was not just careful self-examination. Giving her space to express her heart without timidity and acknowledging his imperfections with acceptance. He would pray more earnestly for humility and strength. He would put down the fuel and matches and begin again to build instead of being the chaotic mischief behind the sabotage from within.




Soul crying out

from behind

red doors.

Nomadic heart beating

in dull clay upon the floor.

Winds sift the pages of life

quickly-the flesh feels oh so

old-but nowhere near fifty.

Darkened windows conceal

cold secrets but

cracked concrete reveals no conflicts.


I love mornings, especially predawn hours. It is then my mind can unwind, then I am settled. I have peace–with a cup of coffee in hand, once again I can realize my dreams, pray…I can pray honestly and earnestly. And on mornings like these, I can again write.

Shipping Out

“This could be my last day,” he said leaning in. She gazed up at him like a school girl would her crush, “Yes, but what if it isn’t? Then what?” He could see her breathing had increased as did his. They held each other with their eyes, sensuality coursing through their veins. “Then that’s a chance we take, at least it will be out of our system.” He leaned in and their lips met with passionate timidity. His arms gently crushed her into his chest, the kiss stealing the breath from her lungs. Their tongues danced and wrestled, their embrace electrifying. The kiss was broken as each felt the desire for something more, and they returned to their separate ways, thoughts loud with bewildered emancipation.


It is an open sunroof

sort of day

Cotton like clouds of

the cumulous culture

strewn across a bountiful

blue backdrop

Dreary colors of grey and brown

are nowhere to be


Death has given way to life

Gorgeous green canopies, birds

whistling joyous melodies.

Sun’s up beaming, with this roof up, I drive home gleaming.


Sitting on this porch I am inclined to define, retune, and relight this burnt out torch. Aimless accuracy I gotta’ write to reassure myself of my humble love for poetry. Eventually pretty words will construct pictures and I again will share my verbal architecture.


SpKn Reinvented

So for the few readers I have, i wound like to share something. After months of trying to decide on a theme for my blog, I have decided to reinvent myself a little. I have always loved to write, and I have bits of poetry and musings all over my house, so I will be begin publishing older works as well as newer works of poetry and prose. 

I would also like to explain the name of my blog. SpKN is my stage name, it is the word spken with vowels missing. I came up with this name a few years ago as I tried my best to be a spoken word poet. There is a much more concrete meaning to the name however; once words are said, that is it-they are spoken and cannot be unsaid. That is how I view my material. It may be raw, it may be sweet, it my be tough to digest but it cannot be taken back. 

I will be posting some works that are based on true events but written as fictional stories. I am really excited about this because I have mainly been writing about musings I would have occasionally but I have found it hard to muse about much lately. I am also excited as I hope to engage with other writers whose work I admire and respect. For now, I will go and eat dinner 



It is a dismal Sunday morning here in Philadelphia. It is quiet. My wife and daughter are fast asleep, and although we are usually up frantically getting ready for church, today, at 7:47 am, there is quiet. Outside is quiet, and despite the dull hum of the heater, inside is quiet. No crying baby, no in depth religious, political, or social conversations between the Mrs. and I. Just quiet. I had a great idea for a blog post a day or two ago, but my mind is quietly frustrated with other issues not related to the inauguration of Donald Trump.

A cup of coffee cools rapidly as I sit and indulge in my favorite past time-and yet I have nothing of any true substance to write. I presume one incredible aspect of a blank mind is learning to use different words than the usual colloquial terms which so easily emanate from a lack of self-education. Not that words such as rapidly, presume, and emanate are such amazing SAT words, but they replace the often used terms such as quickly, imagine, and the like. They add almost a serene beauty to the subject of any particular author, and yet I have fallen into the abyss of “normal language,” something I was quite accustomed at avoiding.

There was once upon a time where I was an avid reader. Articles on love and marriage, sex(at one point I wanted to be sex therapist), I love fiction especially mysteries. During this time, there was quiet in my life. No hustle and bustle of having to adult every day. No online classes demanding hours and hours of my time.  I am madly in love with my family, there is no regret in being married and raising my daughter. Yet in the quiet of this particular morning, I find myself disenfranchised with the outrageous demands our society burdens any one person/family with. One must have such a high level of education just to be told the job market is inundated with other just as qualified applicants.

My quiet morning is thus interrupted by the cries of my little one, and my wife and I must prepare to go out and make some needed household purchases. My hope is that soon, I will be able to once again, enjoy the quiet.

Measuring New Years

Years are funny things. Every December 31st as another year counts down, countless number of people look back and contemplate life. Some say the past year was good to them, others may say it sucked, it was horrible, it knocked them down, took the wind out of their sails, so forth and so on. And yet on December 31st, many come up with New Year’s Resolutions, its a “New year, new me,” or my favorite, “This is my year!”

But what about all the other years that started last year? What about the date that marks how many years you have been at a job, or been married? June 19th, 2016 marked ten years since I graduated high school. The beginning of August my wife and I celebrated four years of marriage. In October my wife gave birth to a beautiful little girl and then two days later, I turned thirty. Each one of those dates measures a year, so within a calendar year, there are many beginnings that we have to start new years, so in retrospect, was the last calendar year really that bad? Yes, I know that we as humans are programmed to draw a final breath and many people have lost loved ones, and I do truly sympathize. I know that there have been terror attacks throughout the world, questionable police shootings in the United States, so forth and so on. But for each date that started a year to some specific event or events in all of our lives, whether it be birth or death, starts or finishes, was the last calendar year so terrible? Again, do not think me heartless for I do recognize that death is never easy for anyone, but lets look at the college student who struggled all semester but passed with all A’s. Sure your social life may have suffered, maybe he/she even experienced a break up. But in spite of that, you attained something that you worked for. Maybe like me you are not crazy about your job, but from September 7th to September 7th, I can say that I have truly learned about myself a lot and have since grown.

As January gets underway, as the new year slowly progresses, my challenge to myself is to reflect on 2016, look at the years within that year and contemplate life. I will not measure 2016 in terms of shocking celebrity deaths, but in terms of personal growth and fulfillment, many new beginnings, more chapters written in a life lived, and celebrate all that was 2016, and prayerfully all that will be 2017. Happy New Years, and may God continue to bless and grow each and every one of you.