And Then There’s Me.


Saying I’m at my best

Would be nothing short

Of premature,

As it would swiftly translate

To my journey nearing its end.


I leave that way of thinking

For the easily satisfied,

In this world, I’m not an expert

I’m not an under-dog,

I am what I need to be.


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by:  Trichardsen

Start Living.


Must be fun taking shortcuts

To being who you wish

Society would see you as;

Being highly impressionable

Like a dead fish, swaying where

The strongest current takes you;

Susceptible to societal pitfalls

A slave to peoples’ perceptions.


First line = sarcasm

But I know the addiction

Of wanting to be number one

Feels worth it

When you’re at the “bottom”

But where is the bottom?

There is none

Unless you allow yourself

To believe

That there is one.


There is no-one better

Or worse than you

Unless you’re not sure of yourself

And feel you need to prove

Something to yourself

Or others, but why?

Why exert all that energy

Into proving

Instead of re-directing it all

To living?


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by:  Northstar76


Daily Prompt: Cheat




And then she thought

She would hurt him

By leaving;

But who’s to say

It was not an after-image

Of his underlying intention?


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by: MarcoHeisler



Knowing who he was

From the word go,

Was it not clear to her

As much as it was

To everyone else,

That when she gave him the green light,

He would not accept

Nothing short of a “Yes”?


– Original-Dante ©2016


Art by: SearchMyHeart


Daily Prompt: Obvious



New Generation Gold.


Last year I remember seeing a poem in a newspaper article about young poets (like myself) failing to adopt what poetry stands for and how we are slowly destroying the art. I didn’t take note of the poet’s name, because I thought nothing of it at the time; only the message he was giving.

In context, all he was saying was that this (poetry) is something we’re not good at, since we are so fixated on things like fashion and social media e.t.c.

In essence, he wants us to adopt the style he deems appropriate or we don’t write poetry at all.  The editor seemed very fascinated by all of it, saying that since the poet is highly renowned his opinion must hold some merit. Felt like a suck up session to me, I don’t know why I remembered the whole thing today but, I decided to respond to the poem regardless…




Competing for a supposed throne

Through the art form

Has never really been

My kind of scene.


But suppose we WERE to compete

Your chance to belittle me,

Showing the divide between us

The perfect opportunity to show

How you’re up there

And I’m down here,

You’d love that wouldn’t you?


Well, spoiler alert

Because if we compete

What you see as an ordinary,

Lush and Green mind

Will expose your eyes

To ethereal designs,

Taking your mind through

The longest train of thought,

Leaving you out of breath as I

Write tartan track laps around you.


We would start at the same line

And I would be back

Before you decide to begin;

Don’t make me commit a crime

By leaving your mind with a chalk outline

Analogy for the brain dead state

I’ll leave you with

After reality sets in. 


Tempting as that would be

I realize that it takes a great person

To discover the power hidden within,

But it takes a rare

And special kind of person

To respect everyone regardless

Of that discovery.


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by:  Aquilapse


There is no right or wrong way to write matters of the heart, the old man should escape from his cocoon.

Instrument For The Star Seed.

beauty_by_searchmyheart-d6ia0so (2).jpg


Have you ever loved something so much, or experienced something so perfect, that you’ve felt it was designed just for you?

I guess for me its writing, but that’s no secret, so I chose the source, my pen. Here’s a poem that expresses my love for the pen and ink.


Motions with the pen 

Illustrating at mach 10,

Designing portals to my world,

The pen was, and has always been 

This Star Seed’s instrument,

To make visible, the transition,

Of intergalactic thoughts

All the way to intelligible form.


With this, I have the ability

To break-down how it feels

To moonwalk on ether,

As ideas orbit around me

In abundance, like star-dust

I reap them with a sickle

Better termed my crescent moon.


This instrument, is indeed

A conduit for my thoughts

Flowing at warp speeds,

Straight out of deep space,

On occasion, moving faster 

Than I can make strokes

With the ink.


With this,

I’m a stranger to seeking approval,

With this, I’m always aware

Of my inherent perfection

At ease, as I open black holes

With the suction force necessary

To cleanse my thought palate 

Of the negativity projected

By the insecure branches

Of humanity.


– Original-Dante ©2016


Art by:  SearchMyHeart


What I Saw/What She Saw.


Forgive her,

For realizing only too late

That when you wrote her something

You didn’t see lines

Stanzas and the occasional rhymes;

Rather, you only saw yourself

Giving her a piece,

Of your soul.


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by: MarcoHeisler


Daily Prompt: Learning



For her,

No amount of embers

Could compare

To the warmth

Of his embrace.


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by:  FlorentCourty




The second my feet tasted earth

I knew I was different,

As peoples’ eyes mirrored

My light bulb high in the sky

Difficult to miss, as it is

That which you call the sun.


I am not a puzzle

That many “claim” to be

No, For I am that

Which stores the puzzle.


Been clear since day one

That I’m not here

To kiss up to those in power,

But to make them aware

They are specks to who I serve,

I’m not here to endorse war

But to enlighten the walking dead

On humanity’s wrongs,

Those who move, but don’t live

Those who have eyes, but don’t see.


I’m not here to impress

But to tell the truth,

And with that out of the way,

Etch it in stone

That I won’t let petty squabbles

Be what jeopardizes a movement

That is, in the simplest form,

Beyond your understanding.


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by:  MarcoHeisler


Untold Chronicles (Part 10)


Sequel to Part 6

Part 1-9 can be found here


The more she shot

Insistently precise

Verbal missiles to his heart,

The more she inevitably

Drew them


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by:  ucilito

Daily Prompt: Youth

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