What Moves You

rainy days, clouds in the sky again
my limbs protest but my fingers rage
pen and ink, feathers on the floor
find me something to live for

what pretends but never apprehends
the apathy my soul seems to bleed
pen and ink, breathe life into me
find me something to live for

can you feel me
can i even breathe
pen and ink, sink to the ocean floor
find me something to live for

poor poets crush their hearts on
cement floors, dark halls, blue ghosts
pen and ink, make my words dance
find me something to live for

Soul Machine

gears grind like gnashing teeth
chopping up the bowels of me
blood gushes, thunder rumbles
the soul machine never ceases

once there was a person here
her heart still beat and wind still
roared through dark, damp snakes
the tunnels in her lungs

blood pulsed to a thudding beat
skin warmed and shoulders shrugged
off worries like little snowflakes
sweat glowed, body shivered

the soul machine grunts and groans
scrapes heavy metallic feet on the
icy steel floor, leaking red ink and
words fall to paper like forest leaves

Soul Machine, a collection of poetry, will be out soon. To stay updated on new releases and special deals, subscribe to my newsletter here! -V


A world of words inside my soul; how can I explain it? All the words I know can’t come close, all the pretty prose and turns of phrase are useless.

Can you translate the whispers of the deep into spoken words? Can any amount of music or painting come close to revealing true beauty? Can the glory of the sun compare to the essence behind the sun, to the lifeblood which gives it its glory? Can a foggy mirror produce the same clarity as the thing it reflects? Does the moon shine as brightly as the sun, whose light she mirrors? Sing, my soul, and speak, my mouth, although all falls short of God, although all falls short of the depth of feeling. Though I fall short, still I give my all.


Words About Words

Sometimes when I try to write, it’s like all of my words have dried up. I can’t express what I want to express. For a writer, this is quite the predicament to be in. I don’t want to write just for the sake of writing – to come up with some profound sounding drivel that actually doesn’t mean anything at all. There’s too much of that floating around the world already. It took me a while to be okay with these kinds of days, when the words just won’t come back. It doesn’t make you a failed writer; it doesn’t mean your creativity is gone. It just means that when the words do start to flow again, they’ll come in droves and bring their friends.

Photo: A page from Leaves of Grass by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thursday Thoughts: Share the Love

Why do we have this weird culture of not telling each other how much we mean to each other (I mean platonically – don’t even get me started on anything else)? Why is it weird to care about people? To love your friends? We complain about being isolated and unloved but then we think it’s weird and mushy when someone is open about it. We breed a culture of ‘playing it cool’ and being aloof, and then complain about how distant everyone is. I mean, I tell the people in my life that I love them, or at least I try to. Because how stupid is it that so many people sit around thinking that no one cares about them, when actually they do, but they don’t say it because they feel weird about it? Nah fam. We’re not in high school anymore, you know? Spread the friend love. Because in this super insecure society, no one knows it unless you say it.

Friends are precious. And the older you get, the more you realize just how infrequently real friendship comes along. And you know…we’re all just people. Everyone needs affirmation sometimes. Everyone needs to know that they matter. That someone misses them when they’re not there. That in this world of super digital-ness, someone wants to talk to them and spend time with them because of who they are.

So say it. Life is short. Make sure the people you love know it.