Broken Wheel Beauty In The Madness

A collection of poetry I wrote when I was in the midst of a severe depression, all the while continuing to raise my son and deal with various medical conditions. Although the poems are in no specific order, they document my journey from depression to finding the joy in life again.

These past few years have taught me a lot about me. After finally hitting my stride, my old friend karma kicked me in the ass; hard enough to leave a lasting mark. I don’t know if it’s the poetry or the art of storytelling I love most, but I’m glad to have finally reached the climax of the trilogy, and who doesn’t like a good climax? I’ve worn many hats but being called a poet never crossed my mind. With that being said, I’m glad I dove in headfirst into something challenging because it turned out I enjoy it. They say never judge a book by its cover and you shouldn’t, but if you did, this cover is amazing, ain’t it. These poems are like Pringles, I bet you can’t read just one. Go ahead, try me, and take a walk on the wild side. You just might like it! After three renditions, it’s time to move on to a new challenge. Like everything else in life, it’s about moderation and I’ve spent an enormous amount of time writing. For as much as I love it, I love living more and being able enjoying the things I’ve I been blessed with. That and I got other stuff I wanna do.

In life, the choices we make determine our levels of success or regret. Ultra successful people (the superrich) rarely take a look back at the lessons of the past. ­That privilege is often reserved for the regretful, and whether we show it or not, many of us have our secret regrets. What if you realized that you were a regretful success? But that doesn’t make sense, does it? Who would regret their success? Who would want to struggle? What if those struggles were needed to help in revealing your character and what you thought of as weaknesses turned out to be your greatest strengths? How would you function knowing you had to struggle to get to where you wanted to go? Would you do it? Could you do it? ­ There are so many questions, and over time I’ve realized that asking questions will not only get you answers but will also lead to more questions. If you don’t know when to stop asking questions, then the answers cease to be of use, and when the answers aren’t useful, you stop asking questions and so on and so forth. But how can you fix a system if you’re not a part of it? According to developmental psychology, there are certain keystone events that should happen over the average lifetime. What happens when that order changes? Does that mean that the rules don’t apply? That doesn’t sound like a normal train of thought, does it? But what is normal anyway? I’ve never been normal or average. I’m a mystery, a conundrum, a 1,000-piece puzzle with a single piece missing. ­The missing piece used to change every day, but over time, it became clear that my missing piece was indeed a “missing peace” and that I would need the God’s help and plenty of heart to ‑ fight my way through numerous battles, facing more than my fair share of adversities. After God sat me down to talk over something, I told him, “­Thank you.” But then I also said, “­That’s f**ked up, God.”

Reprint of the original, first published in 1882.

"Title of papers, addresses, &c., from 1807 to 1874": 1875 p. 94-111.