Thursday, December 20, 2018


Duvall O'Steen - New Headshots from the amazing Paul Greco Photography. A more serious side here. Gritty New York Drama shot. The poetry in this one is daring you not to read it!

Sunday, July 29, 2018

Me Time

Today was delightful.  I finally had some downtime. A full day without so much to do.  Me time. Time to take stock, step off the ride of life and reflect a bit. The noise of my barking To Do list falling to a faint far-away buzz. I am smiling more than I have in months.

Amazing how refreshing a simple day without obligations can be.

It got me thinking...

How much of my life is lived genuinely for me? Do I prioritize duties and obligations over my own joys, desires, goals?  What IF I spent more time doing nothing?  I wonder...

There's a story inside me
a glory
yet to be fulfilled
an explosion of sheer beauty
treasure
uncovering a pristine truth
so detailed,
so refined,
it sparkles like a gemstone
as facets of my mind
spark within my heart
like lightning bugs that dance,
shaking the cocktail of my soul,
piercing precisely to the core,
an excavation and removal of who I was before.

There's a story inside me
that's brewing
an aging vintage
molded, dusty, torn
deformed from years of storage and abuse;
it's shaking loose the old familiar chains,
like a sprout, it's busting through
a blossom on the verge,
a star's initial burst.
If I stop the go-see- do
and quiet ushers in,
there's a new and deeper listening,
silence becomes my friend,
my ears make out a melody
that's always been  humming
close to the horizon of my consciousness,
a glimpse of genius
draws me in
and I recognize,
with great surprise,
my own breath on the wind.
My every smile is singing
as chapter one begins.





Sunday, June 17, 2018

Mortal Mystery

Yet another shooting today.

Not in a school this time, but still, a child was shot and is critically fighting for his life.

What has happened to us? How did we get here? When did LIFE become so de-valued? It is the single most precious thing we have. All of us. Without it, we have nothing.

How do we not see ourselves in another? THIS is what baffles me. THIS is what motivated my response to gun violence... I share it here in fully as we cannot partially respond to this gun violence issue. Life is worth fighting for.

MORTAL MYSTERY


What is it 
in you
that cannot see 
Me?
That does not recognize the familiarity 
of my tears, my needs, my eyes?
How can you not smell my love,
the floral fragrance I whisper to this world,
my smile a mighty atomizer
spewing pleasure through my teeth 
as beautiful truths come bursting forth. 
Is there no value in you
that you cannot value me?
Are you lacking certain bones or muscles that pump your heart
to keep it soft and steady, alive?
Is your soul so hidden in your pinky toe
that you do not know
that we are kin
Sisters in sisterhood
Brothers in brotherhood
Partners in being 
Homo sapien?
Journeying in lock step 
on a planet racing toward extinction?
Are you so convinced of difference 
that you cannot spot the evidence 
of sameness all around you?
Do you hunger? Do you cry?
Does your left ear itch when you fly? Like mine?
Have you ever tried to taste the rain?
Or catch a bubble in your hand?
I wonder if you can.
If you have the capacity 
to see my vulnerability 
and its undeniable resemblance 
to your own. 
When you hold your lover's hand,
does it paint your cheeks like mine?
Does your mother's face bring swirling thoughts, memories, scars to mind?
Perhaps it is the viewfinder 
you look through
that distorts your vision 
blurs your judgment as you aim,
my nose transformed into a bullseye 
as your finger strokes the trigger
stoking up the flames inside your mind
muddying the watery weak excuses 
that you claim 
grant you some kind of permission 
to do the unspeakable
Here and Now.
Why do I sense fear 
in your bloodshot eyes?
As you pose in your mock state of strength?
Could it be that you are afraid of unarmed me?
Your power-gun nothing but a mask
to hide the blackest blasts
of your inner shame?
Does your eyelid know my name?
That quiver in your palm,
perhaps it's picking up the rhythm of my pulse
our heartbeats quickened 
by the fatal proximity of an early grave.
What score will you celebrate today?
As my final breath blends with yours
the air we share an equalizer,
our need for it the same.
Have you no burning in that smoking fingertip?
No chapping of your grimly parted lips?
No resonance within your vocal chords that vibrate just like mine
as you chant your victory cry
while I whimper my last words?
You see me as an apple in those orange eyes of yours
but surprise!
We are family
fruit from a familiar tree of DNA. 
You're shooting off my nose
to spite our collective human face. 

Duvall O’Steen ©2016