To The Humans:

The odds of being alive, in this moment right now

Are slim to none, and I wonder how

We allow vitrole to grow in our hearts

To divide us as people into parts

By race, by religion, by gender

To allow these divisions grow, like a fire with tinder,

Into protests, fights and wars between two of the same

Instead of coming together as one, under one name

I say this to the Humans:

Instead of protesting are divisions, come to protest are decisions

Decisions that will come back to affect our fellow generations

Instead of fighting other, learn to love one another

Love one another, like a sister loves a brother

Instead of waging wars, find your enemy and look at the stars

Look at the stars, realize to the universe we are just memoirs

Memoirs that our children will read, that will be full of despise and hate

Now is the time to ask why, rather than let this time go by

Come together as one before it’s too late

If we are one as a people:

Tyranny would never stand a chance

Hate would become a nonsensical stance

Fighting would become a unpoetical dance

So I say this to the Humans:

What are we if we don’t have humanity?

Would we lose everything we have to this intense insanity?

We have the same internals, to let externals divide us.

It’s time to fight, not by words of hate, not by actions of revolt

But instead by actions of charity across all land and words of support for all.

Short Stories


Some questions in life are not supposed to be answered. Some questions in life have no answers. Some questions in life have an infinite amount of answers.

Every which way you look, life is full of questions of what, when, why and how. On the search to find the answers: we find more questions. Questions are the way of life and how we keep it new like a baby learning how to walk for the first time, when we ask if we could and we can, it springs us forward into a new question like can we run, jump or even skip! An endless array of possibilities from facing the simplest of questions. An endless array of lessons from the simplest of questions.

When we stop asking questions is when life becomes monotonous and even miserable as we get swept under of the wave of unchanging work, unchanging schedule and a unchanging life. When we stop asking questions is when life stops progressing in ways of science and thought. No new achievement has ever been done without asking if it was possible or if it could be done.

Question everything to not regret asking nothing.

Short Stories


All of the years of us running through the battlefields. All of the years of us trudging through trenches covered in red of the blood of allies and enemies. All of the years of us fighting forward through hills and valleys in quest of cleansing this earth of evil. All of the years tentatively moving forward through cities someone use to call home and try to decipher the innocent from the guilty.

All of these years of fighting just to lead to a standstill and for some bureaucrats to decide it is over and whoever lost the least is victorious. The side that we are on lost the least and we get declared the winner of this pointless conundrum. But, then why do we feel like we are the losers?

Winners get to stand courageously on the top and feel confident in what they did was right. We aren’t winners. The more we look at the war; the more we see we aren’t winners. Families tore apart in acts of cruelty. Soldiers tore apart in acts of misery. Countries tore apart in acts of insanity. Lines running up and down the map remind of us of the scars we tore through the continent. We simply can’t declare ourselves the winners without starting another war and putting our kin through the same living hell we made it through.

We are the losers. For every act of violence causes an equal reaction of violence because the people we hurt will not know the reason we did. Every textbook will have blank pages to describe the reasons we had to intervene in world wars. Every soldier will have words scarred in the backs of their minds to remind them we are the enemy. We won and what we won was a target on our backs.

But, no matter what we do: war never changes. Man changes and technology changes but our methods of bloodshed do not change. War is a game to inflict the highest amount of casualties and who ever quits first is the loser. The game never ends and even when we think it is the end of war we haven’t quite learned our history. The cycle will end when humanity is triumphed and all free will is conquered and honestly though it will take years to see that what we did was right. I would choose free will every time.

Short Stories

The Night Traveler

The night was growing old and he still couldn’t find anywhere to sleep. He walks down the street which was void of life and activity. No one in either direction of the street. All he has is the fear of being caught to keep him alive. But finally the man found a small inn that he has never seen in his life in this small town. He strolls into the inn and the only noise to be heard is the small roar of a fire. But suddenly he heard soft footsteps coming toward him. The footsteps were slow and steady. Frozen in fear the man stood in the main room waiting for the specter. Now the footsteps sound to be behind the counter and inside the door. The door squeaks slowly and a part a man’s silhouette which glowed red from the flame of the fire, slowly took form on the floor in front of him. Finally the door is open and a man in a deep dark suit that looks like it had been overused in many funeral takes a step behind the counter. The man in the suit slowly smiles and stares into the eyes of the man looking for a room.

“Hello my name is Abaddon Mastema but you can call me Lou.” The man in the dark suit tells the man in the main lobby. The man stumbles and looks at the man and feels like he has seen him before. But eventually he pushes back his fear and talks.

“My name is Vivian, do you think I can get a room?” The man asks Lou while still trying to find out where he saw him at.

“Yes, I have many rooms for people that are like you and gone through your travels.” Lou tells the Vivian as he pulls out a clock and starts winding it backwards. The sight of him doing so made Vivian cringe and shiver but he didn’t know why.

“Can I have a room that’s ground floor?” Vivian asks Lou as he sets down the clock. After a few seconds a siren of an ambulance goes by in the distance. Then rain starts coming down rapidly on the building.

“Bad night to be traveling. The only room I have open tonight is room number 6. Also by the way the alarm clocks don’t work properly so many people don’t wake up.” Lou says as a sinister smile goes across his face. Vivian is stuck at a crossroad stay here with the creepy man or leave. But Vivian feels as if his only chance to hide away from what he had done is to stay here until he can make his escape.

“Ok I’ll take room number 6. Do you think you could wake me up in the morning?” Vivian says to Lou as passing him the money for the room.

“I’m going to be pretty busy tomorrow so I don’t think I can wake you.” Lou says as pulling out a black book and a red pen.

“Do you think you can sign this book because I like to remember the people who stay here.” Lou says to Vivian as reaching out to give him the red pen. Vivian takes the pen and starts writing his name. The ink of pen looks like blood scrawled across the page. Many names were on the page but the name above his was Reginald Griffin. Now Vivian walks towards his room but as he walks he hears the book slam closed and the subtle laughter of Lou grow loud and then fade away off into the distance. So, Vivian stops and looks back towards the desk and Lou seems to have vanished and the only thing left was the clock set to a minute to midnight. At this point, Vivian’s body grew completely numb and he feels as if he’s not in control any more. He opens the door and as soon as he turns around to close it the door closes for him and sees a giant grandfather clock in the corner of his room. The grandfather clock strikes midnight and Vivian is in bed then darkness consumes the room like a black veil. Vivian’s eyes slowly close like they are being forced down by an cold hand that feels inevitable. The last noise he hears is a police siren in the distance being overshadowed by the sound of the downpour of rain. Vivian fades to black and ends the worst night of his life and he knows the worst is still coming, his eyes shut and sleep overcomes his fear of tomorrow.

But, finally Vivian wakes up from his slumber and feels an intense heat overwhelming his body. Vivian feels as if he is not in the same place he fell asleep at even though the room is exactly the same as the one he slept in the night before. Something about the room felt different to Vivian and that is when he heard a knock at his door.