Tag Archives: thoughts


11 Jan

Ignorance never learns.

Knowledge never dies.

The wise man doesn’t wish.

The poor woman never cries.

The mason creates query.

The dreamer is …..

The pale is half empty.

The future is never.



Another Journal [08/18/2013]

18 Aug

Chello bello!~

Well, I’m in the same place I’ve been finding myself the past few Sundays. In this ridiculously inhabited laundromat. It is both hot and highly occupied, and the rain & humidity are not helping at all. The people mostly appear vexed. The black ones peering amongst each other in the most accusing manner- I myself could not seem to locate this transparent omen…


I’m wearing my hair in a bun again as I always do- Well two buns, one on each side of my head. I’ve been wearing it this way for months… I like it, I feel that it suits me. My clothes, pewter grey pants, and old oil stained tank, and a charcoal grey Hanes sweat shirt that I can’t seem to figure out where I got it from. I came with the intent of writing, poetry, or painting my nails a sweet peachy caramel color, I like the way it looks on my brown skin. I wanted to get away. From the migraine, the dirty clothes that dream I had last night about Aaron, and more importantly people. My displeasure was every where.


To my right a plump tall white man with salt and pepper hair, a bushy mustache- awesome mustache, sat across from his sweet little daughter. She appears to be about 12, her thick brown hair in a pony tail. She’s wearing a tie dye shirt. She was adorable, her attention on the T.V screen, they’re playing Home Alone – His on his iphone….Interesting- Across from me. The same kind, kind man we had met last Sunday. All of a sudden, interestingly enough, everyone started disappearing- Yes, including the black people (shame on you closet racists).


I wallowing in thought, as I always did. Scribbling down every memory strand- Dad not even bothering me. He knows how I get lost, he now encourages me to do so. Yep, I’m a lucky gal to have Papa… Awesome gay dude- or so I so ignorantly presume, wearing low riding skinny jeans, pink underwear and nail polish, and a slit-backed cropped belly shirt. Say as you please I admire his individuality often times I wish more people were like that…






Vague Masquerade

14 Aug

We both walk…

We both breathe…

to you I am dead

to I there is no need…

you stand tall, brilliant and red-

but to you I don’t matter for I am dead.

you sit high strung kind on your throne,

all you loyal peasants like dog with bone.

a glare and they laugh.

oppose they sing.

at your feet they feed-above everything.

I could have a remedy, a potion a cure.

I could have a reason to better you from your lure.

I could be the person from so high you couldn’t see…

but to you I am dead,

and to I no need…

You can masquerade ’til the end.

take amusement in your plight-

and leave me like a bad omen

to feed in the night….

I’m not listed in your kingdom,

for I refuse to pay a mortal praise!

But I unlike any of them loved you

even with all your ways.

we both write…

we both sing…

we will both die empty among everything.

©copyright Kyanna Kitt

Bay View

12 Aug
"Sunset At Victoria Beach" by CNaene ~ Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“Sunset At Victoria Beach” by CNaene ~ Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Bay View

Wild ripples trample the sea-foam giant of the sea like rogue horses amidst an open trail

Little birds embellish it like plops of white cotton swirling about the ribbon of its energy flow

Crowded fields of green spectate from the rolling hills about the wisp ivory frills that were waves curling and crashing into the sandy coast-

The air reminiscent of the sweet summer dew that accompanied the morning sun

The soft pewter of the sky happily acted as her backdrop

And even he heard the praise.

Voices caressing the warmth of the atmosphere anxious to meet him

There were glowing & so was she though the brilliance that radiantly had shown through the beams of the sun

I, perched on a pale yellow seat like a cardinal to a branch, quietly thought…

Literature spills from my head like words from pages

Free-falling waterfall both tranquil and impatient like waiting for 5 o’clock.

I enjoy life by the bay with it’s frugal festivities and dives

I say, “ Life isn’t seeing nor does breathing mean you’re alive.”

©copyright Kyanna Kitt


7 Aug
"The One" by prozac1 ~ Image courtesy of http://www.freedigitalphotos.net

“The One” by prozac1 ~ Image courtesy of http://www.freedigitalphotos.net

Floating through that celestial mirror,

which was my dream…

At some point crystal clearer

than that the thing that it’d mean-

I know that in the moment,

I flow over and under

that which is existential.

Voices crowding my lair,

my being, space- bears essential.

Time, less obligation

irrelevance to I merely


In this prism vision

hovering the veil of truth & fiction

numb mind, still heart

ever beating me- A part

this space I know now is no reprieve,

for I still have face of fool

in my sleep!

Left chasing which is incomparable

to mine own fate.

Frankly a feeble minded victim

lacking in weight.

Dare that entangled dream ‘er come for me,

‘rouse my mind-

Admit defeat he will this time!

How’d fare you if your own sacred

temple held you captive?

Free of will,

abundantly active?

These gates which were erected to protect my thought

lack purpose like faux art!

If I could I’d have gladly

administered my own disposition.

Seize an artifact

made for wishing but,

my pattern has already been woven

by the hands of the maker…

I’d take her…

I’d take her too…

I thought as I spilled into the river basin which held my

logic, my thought

I’m thinking

And again waking

to life…

©copyright Kyanna Kitt

%d bloggers like this: