Lou Jacobs 1943 RBBB web sitter costume


There is a line becoming blurred with time

feeding illusions

transforming in delusions

with anything I had and everything I have

but can’t declare mine

and will have to let go.

A life passé not good or bad

just the life I had

and the life I know.


There is a blurred line in my insanity

between wishes and dreams

hiding in a niche of comfort as it seems

and it fits well but it’s not mine,

a mask painted with reality

playing life that won’t last

a fool to the sands of time

a life of je ne sais quoi

but a life at that,

a blurred line just fading fast.

H.O. July 27, 2014




My roots go deep but unknown

liquefied past with gray shadows

remains of a story never told

insignificant for others to hold

in a life condemned to gallows

awaiting my sentence alone.


But to hide in my banality

deaf to the voices screaming inside

a wish to reboot and reclaim

a shred of pieces that remains

of one that was, as dreams collide

hands tying the noose on my reality.

H.O. July 9, 2014






I often wonder about my skin

experiences held captive in ridges and folds

meant for salt, brightness and sun

and how across oceans It has been

surrounded by strangeness that holds

my roots close to my heart when done.


Skin enduring divergence in the blue

or the green with paleness contrasting

and screaming of differences I find

on the canvas that nature one day drew,

with one color to which we are so blind

as it’s red the color of blood everlasting.

H.O. July 3, 2014