Feelings of foreignness

Faint in my forested heart

When it rained the terrain changed


I thought if I hiked back to where I was before

To who I was before

I could remember recognizable sights


But the light, its different

And what was once illuminated

No longer shines, or shines brighter


So I can only find my way forward

I can only cut through thicker vines

I can only abide in the light that leads me uncharted




Presumably from the Swedish främling, “stranger, alien, foreigner, outsider.”Framlings -are individuals who are recognised as being of the same species as the subject, but who are from another planet. Culture and manners between Framlings may be different, but they are still similar


Lost religion-Freedom Found (Still-born Dreams)

It was still-born dreams
I gleaned for understanding for the discomfort
Maybe displacement,
Maybe I was finally facing what I knew was always there
Now I stare into the eyes of aborted expectations
Passions spurned, deflated
Hope deferred, complacent
In the basement of my mind
No intellect can stretch to the sublime
I was in need of
I ejected from the message
A lost investment,
Time to reconsider.

So I gathered my trust like garments
I boxed up the belongings of my beliefs
Evicted from true reality
I sought solace in sane things

Thinking… if church is simply charity
There’s no cure for the malady of belonging
And if the gates of hell can prevail
Maybe we’ve made our home in a kingdom we don’t belong

Reworded the message
Found security in Caesars incentives and
Fought freedoms that place us at the mercy of a god we can control

What if our Moses’s are Aaron’s in disguise
And we’ve never known the presence enough to sense the difference?

I grew cold from the repetition
 Mixing business and worship
 Love and lust, God and gold
 The service froze my potency

I retracted my expressions
Wounded heart
Guessing where I could fit in
My real was too ideal
An awkward mammoth among men
Extinct in my train of thought
So I thought.

I caught a flight South
Then West
Then East.
South again
Where my pen came alive and
I’d dive into verbs
Word and reword
What I felt
Or failed to feel
As I healed.

This was my detox.

 And I never felt the cold turkey
Nor the remorse of my leave
Just the sound of barren leaves
Crushed underfoot
These were the pieces of me,
Scattered parts
1-A heart too ambitious
2-Arms too passionate
3-Legs too determined for the task
I’d unmask myself in the doing
Then found my face in renewing identity
I never thought pursuing deconstruction
Would reflect a hurt so good

So I stood. Naked, again.

This time more bare than before
This time no care in the world
That swallowed up my ideas of the holy
I was unfolding shallow logic
Deposits of my naive consumption
But I let the scales fall
And I saw like Saul
I had mistaken my enemy
Timidly finding the rhythm of trust
Until I thrust myself beyond the knowing
He was showing me how my glory was assaulted

Freedom came from mountaintops
And I found I could never fit where I wasn’t meant to be
Now I can see the treasures of my heart
I traded pews for evergreens
I abandoned feedback for birds songs
The open air makes things more clear now
And I hear the voice I always needed the most
Trekking through the wood
The unbeaten path of paradox
Inconvenience in adventure
Following the voice that leads me beyond knowing…
Lost-religion, Freedom-found.

Explication: I Dreamed My Genesis by Dylan Thomas



I dreamed my genesis in sweat of sleep, breaking

Through the rotating shell, strong

As motor muscle on the drill, driving

Through vision and the girdered nerve.


From limbs that had the measure of the worm, shuffled

Off from the creasing flesh, filed

Through all the irons in the grass, metal

Of suns in the man-melting night.

Heir to the scalding veins that hold love’s drop, costly

A creature in my bones I

Rounded my globe of heritage, journey

In bottom gear through night-geared man.

I dreamed my genesis and died again, shrapnel

Rammed in the marching heart, hole

In the stitched wound and clotted wind, muzzled

Death on the mouth that ate the gas.


Sharp in my second death I marked the hills, harvest

Of hemlock and the blades, rust

My blood upon the tempered dead, forcing

My second struggling from the grass.


And power was contagious in my birth, second

Rise of the skeleton and

Rerobing of the naked ghost. Manhood

Spat up from the resuffered pain.

I dreamed my genesis in sweat of death, fallen

Twice in the feeding sea, grown

Stale of Adam’s brine until, vision

Of new man strength, I seek the sun.





The most consistent thread in Dylan Thomas’ work is a yearning to return or be transported to a place of youth and innocence. Thomas politicizes the world because he is never content nor accepting of the standards and norms that most adults adhere to, quite frankly his poems are a mockery of the real world. Thomas prefers the ideal. “I Dream My Genesis” is Thomas grappling with re-envisioning his beginning in the thick of a restless night. Thomas’ life story is consistently retold as one of carelessness, drunkenness and irresponsibility despite his incredible gifting and talent. Many critics seem to believe his poems exhibit a sort of drunken stupor, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst. I find myself in both beliefs that some of his poems have depth and some seem to me a bit rushed.

However, hearing Thomas recite his poems, I am pressed to believe maybe the poems I do not understand have a depth I cannot quite grasp, at least not until I understand the poet more intimately. Taking into account Thomas’ history; his inability to hold a job, to stay sober, there is something the poet is running from or processing through. And though poetry is a great escape for many, maybe it was not enough of an escape for Thomas. I also ask myself, “where does he want to escape to?” The answer I believe is, to his childhood, or at least a place of purity, of innocence. This drive is what creates such a force in Thomas’ words and makes his poetry so bombastic, yearning, ethereal and youthful. His poems can be personified as a child skipping through nature, chomping at the bit to see over a new horizon. It is as if the poem could fly him away and the more forceful the language the higher he is projected. This is also clearly seen in his poem, “Poem in October”,  where Thomas reflects on his childhood, stating, “his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.” The child’s heart was Thomas’s own heart, even as a man, this heart was inescapable and fantastically fascinated with repainting the world and marveling at nature.

This fascination with repainting the world and returning to innocence is what “I Dreamed My Genesis” is all about.  This is what we see in lines 1 and 2 of the first stanza, it is this “breaking through the rotating shell”, the shell is his body similar to the shell of a bullet. Thomas in this dream-like state is similar to a bullet in the chamber, he is yearning to be propelled, ‘rotating’ as the bullet spins, so he spins in his sleep, and metaphorically piercing into the reality of his dream. This dream we speak of where he re-imagines his beginning, where he questions what life would be like if he had not lost his innocence. This dream where he repeatedly envisions what life would be like if he could choose the circumstance that shaped him. But he couldn’t. Continue reading

Adore the Mystery


Adore the mystery in silence

Where science and logic fail

And reverence pales in comparison to existent things


Adore the mystery of undignified foolishness

Where kingly robes and common clothes are the same

And rulers lift their voices like madmen in praise


Adore the mystery in silence

When peace grows from violence

As Pilate asks, “what is truth?”


Adore the mystery

That no history can grasp

Future, present, past, the mystery outlasts


-Travis T.

Undressed For Death

We were clothed in light, remember our innocence?
In a sense, we were never created for clothes
Enclosed in love divine.

Sublime thoughts closed inside
Until exposed to lies outside of ourselves.
Expelled from within the best part of self

We had a home in Him
He had a home in us
Now these bones of dust are prone to rust

We’ve lost what was home through lust
And in the flesh we left our rest for death
Undressed from glory’s garments. Naked. Ashamed.