I’ve always been ready

Why am I sitting here waiting?


Over thinking

Taking on the frustration of a parallel universe

We each walk in our own truth

Full of shame

They play the blame game

Pointing fingers

Shooting guns

Flashing their political styles

Instead of focus

On completing the ability to end

Poverty, needless homelessness

The inability to wage wars peacefully

On those waging them on us

When will the anger be placed?

United with solutions


That holds the power

To define honest humanity

If it shows up

We’ll all be free

From the ties



As they say to each are own.

This gamble, Does it cause harm?

I think we should be able to lie

In anyone’s arms

If love is the answer

Why are we causing harm?

Judgment lays with the master

But we use things to critic anyway

Playing sides like piano notes

A dual tell the end

No one wins.


I’ve hit a dry spell

I’m looking for a well

to ease my thirst

in this vast desert

I go to sleep and poetry comes

waking up there’s nothing left

as if the trees have all been plucked

leaving not even roots to grow


a void in our world

death upon us, as words disappear 

so do the images they create

each new thought plucked from our brains

A robot crank stealing our thoughts

one by one


I’m absent.


Angela K. Crandall

Turning in Circles (Originally written for Madonna’s” Revolution of Love)

I miss hope sometimes

 I wonder where she is, if she has been lost, mislead, or is sleeping in her bed.

 I grabbed her once, hugged her kept her close, and then I lost her.

Hope in those who could love in spite of differences, see empathy in my eyes while we all accepted that they loved and held hands instead of defiling them with laws and rules you live by, and see we all have our own laws, beliefs ways so why can’t we just show love.

 I keep waiting while others use who they are to belittle each other. It makes me cry myself to sleep at night often I have felt betrayed.

 How can peace be made with no understanding compromise or love?

 I have seen this from few people It’s why my dog is my best friend he is more tolerant than most people and Madonna who’s given me hope like the metaphor I also use to show my confidence.

 I only want others to see love, to see equality does not hurt them, or lessen their beliefs so why must they keep on punishing others because we are all one, and if we are ONE are we not in this together? Who is truly free if we all lived in one way, and not in many, in diverseness, but in that division we also must find acceptance, or are we all just monsters fighting for our own way.


 Angela K. Crandall





as if its

as easy as

stepping into the sun on a glorious summer’s day

spinning in circles til I stop but am still spinning

placing my feet in the sand 

as the water nears them, then retreats

Leaning against a tree with a book in my hand

living my life in new lands

an evening out with the stars above 

The moon bright in the sky I stare up

I stare up

It shines down

The world turns 

yet I don’t feel it

seen only as days passing

youth spent

I notice the passage

Flashing before me

I’ve taken in seconds, moments

knowing, I’d never live them again

Tempting them to stay

Those to passed away

One day I shall be at ease

unwound by the demands of this life


My aspirations before me desire achievement

Thus at the end of each day in my silence, I often find myself minutes

Of serenity among the sounds

The fish tank’s bubbler, a dog at play, or a cat’s meow.

A memory lost, found in the pile of many 

Laying down everything I must do

I let the pages fly away

one by one



Written by

Angela K. Crandall


Written by hand

I write by hand

On any scrap of paper, I can find and a pen

During my day job hours

My mind it comes alive

The flow a natural high

Quickly I scribble in-between

On my breaks and lunch

Bits of poetry, pieces of plots, worlds created

While there I am stuck

 Psychically, Mentally I am gone

My imagination lives unscathed

I am free from all that retail pressure as I write

I am liberated by words with meaning

Those that bring feeling

Causing me to float near the shining sun

Filling me with life

Over and over

Forever I will write.


Angela K. Crandall

(Inspired by The Daily Post)

Intertwined deviation

Rooted personal reflections

Images shine

Plunging into what you call heaven

An exclusive hell/Mine never existing in your impression

Picking myself up

Brushing off the particles, fragments, and dust that settled

To climb 

Closed-mouthed I’m melting with emotions

Passion, pride, grief and sorrow

seep,-leak and gush

exploding from my eye-lids

Silently I continue to pile up the building blocks

Expecting them not to collapse, fall, or crash


An encore

To come again

Running through my confidence, fantasy, imagination destroying me

With glee on your faces as I panic


Wondering, pondering, Contemplating

What would hold them together


Sacrificing who I am

Ho do you defeat


I’ve always said

Don’t give in, don’t let them win

It seems like their winning

While I lift inch by inch

Magnifying resistance

They replace with dread

Fulfillment that only lasts for minutes, moments, hours…

Never concrete in years

residing within

Peace, solace, A will unbroken by your boundaries/stipulations

Outside pandemonium

An complexity

Balancing the scales of sanity




Angela K. Crandall, Author


Into the blue

Nothing new

death flies

Tensions-rise beneath our feet

Into the air, everywhere 

The flames

Bursting igniting

Like fire works

These kinds hurt

power of destruction

War in the night

sparing, and dueling

 some come to take


Blasts of fright

We sit and hide

Until the last

Bullet flies

Then we head back

Out into the night


our street-lives


Angela K. Crandall, Author