Love isn’t easy to
find, keep or replace
so cherish it like you would a friend
you never want to leave your side
nourish it with
food, compassion, intimate affections
Do not leave room for false accusations
and always talk to each other
some things you think can be replaced
Angela K. Crandall, Author
c. 4/28/15

Perchance choices and Changes…

Chances Choices Changes

Conjugate in a jar

waiting for you to take action

Pick from the array of rainbow colored papers

I choose reaching deep into the jar

A friend handed it to me

she said pick a word

a phrase

I remember this in high school

Not sure why

It was like a mantra

a reason

The word represented something

personal to you

perhaps it was random

like passing by an accident

but then again you ponder

It could have been me if I hadn’t stopped for that coffee

Is life really choices we pick from a jar

Are they sitting waiting for us to grab them

Is our mind aware of it?

The jar, it is your mind

during high school it wasn’t 

it was in a plastic lunch bag


did you go to class or not?

Choices are everywhere

Changes surround us as we walk down a street we’ve walked down before thousands of times

Chances are sought, or seeker

present yourself with the capability to potentially be resourceful

with all three

Chance, choice, and change

Pick not at random

choose what fits

Occasionally adapt

Then lift up your arms as if you were a butterfly

ready to leave the cocoon.


Angela K. Crandall

c. 4/27/15

Scattered Shattered Faith in belonging

It’s happening again

over and over

the manipulation

Everything seems fine

It’s morning and the sun has risen

smiles, friends, happiness

Then the darkness falls

like the rain that I watched out the window sitting at my seat looking out.

Perfection, not so much

It was better for moments, seconds, a period of silence

within retreating doesn’t help

The voices are not real just me speaking to myself of comfort

You’ve manipulated me using cash

You claimed she did the same, but she never used money to harm me

Only gained it when I choose to buy hope

Music is my hope

She never asked for it.

Deep pockets speak  only to to fill voids

also to use, buy out what you sold to yourself

you tried selling me with gifts

implying I did matter

Suddenly upon the new hour a smack in the face

one, not physical but disconnecting me from a life

after the photos were taken

after you said I was a part of a family

You spoke without words

saying nothing

He stood by me, did his best to make me seen without plundering our situation more

Faces sat trying to understand why

Why I wasn’t mentioned

What happened

nine years really they said?

You’ve been together that long.

Yes, I replied…

I didn’t scream, howl or yell I simply sat quiet

not wanting to cause a scene

that would only make it worse

The world going on around me while I sat trying to stay calm in a solitude of my own.

Then after a toast

we left

Not upsetting anything else

remaining despondent

Finally getting our coffee and a bit of food…

Meandering about

until we reached our destination for the evening…

with another three days to muddle through…


Angela K. Crandall

C. 4/26/15

Standing by/You gave&give me strength

I woke up hurting recalling what they did to you.

The ridicule, the lies

for me you erased the pain each note eased it

Songs helped me through it comparable to a book with life instructions.

They wanted to shatter what they called my illusions

A warmth that lingers 

A sun they claimed was only out to shine for themselves

not for the misunderstood.

No I won’t open my ears for you.

Nor, Let them take away anew strength found

they call false.

Thinking you would leave…

Never really thought 

but you didn’t

A pillar of stamina, persistence

They say you use your money for power

Me, my answer

You stand for social change, pushing buttons, minds urging them to see equality

among our diversity

These folks see your stash of cash


I see your heart

They think my emotions lie to me.

I’m just unstable they mumble to themselves passing me by…

No one else helped me smile through the years struggled

Adolescence, young adult, then adulthood happened

An icon who never told anyone they were unwanted

So I followed, and continue

I’ve been betrayed before here ‘ll stay

even if they make me pay.

Money is meaningless

Hero’s are priceless

Love goes beyond dollar bills

I take this her, a memory, the gift of song

Who she has helped me become

Don’t you agree

and yes

She does give to charity…


Angela K. Crandall


This is how we begin…

“No, I will not let you stab me in the heart, my back, or any other part of my body.

I will let you pull the knife from me so I can heal from the wound once placed there.

Would you help me sew it back up?

Kindly give me advice on how to avoid these slices unless they are pieces of pizza shared amongst friends?

I am looking for them, for you, for me, people to help repair the damage once constructed by pain we inflict on each other.

It needs to stop this sparing of swords.

How do we start possessing humanity again?

Common community, pools where we meet to help give reason for all that is coming…

Can we end it? Make it right?

Lighting up the night of someone else’s dark skies by being there?

I dare you to be there

for someone



in distress

a mess

One you don’t agree with

hold them tight

Don’t tell them they are wrong


There hero isn’t right

Instead be an em-path

A way into the sparkles





bringing the ability to strive

to reach

for that which seems


each step towards rebuilding


one person at a time


All of us


can do that


if we pick each other up

When we have stumbled

In the past we’ve all been pushed to be humbled

to stop questioning

don’t let it force you into vengeance

Perhaps unexpectedly you’ll be lead where you need to go

One person at a time




create bridges

where conflict once existed.

Unreasonable? Is it possible?

Should we try?

Be there, aware, empathize, reflect, analyze

Then reconstruct

to lift up

The human mind


each of us are

with patients.


Angela K. Crandall Author

C. 4/23/15

Is my life a Charade?

What I need cannot be bought

It can only be imagined

not making it easy to live on borrowed dreams

In times of sorrow emotions explode

Good and bad

Often the best times have come out of ugliness

Dare me to stay in this reality,

Could I function without the source?

Running has never been an option

Who possesses who?

Charades of life are similar to every year spent to fly do you recall?

Am I living?

Or am I just stuck in familiarity?

I question it daily

waiting to wake up

Will I?

Or tank in the presumption 

that this is all there is.


Angela K. Crandall

copyright 4/22/15 

Sacrifice/ For Others

Nothing is fair

I always seem to lose myself

For others


Never for me

If I did I’d find what I was

Searching for


Unmarked territory

Where I’d camp

Awakening a new being

Where I would be found

By the one

Who would understand it all?

No longer would I fall down

Bruising myself

I’d stand instead

Your hand in mine

Never reaching back for another’s


Angela K. Crandall


Uncomplicate Things

“Difficulty lies in loving those who afflict us, brush us aside depositing us along a banished road bound. Integrity self-worth flies’s free above the land to the sun and in the night the stars will shine with the moon behind it.”

Angela K. Crandall, Author


Within me

Up off of the water it rises

Thick steam vapors lifted

Uninhibited naked I walk in

I’d never step in bare

Here I do

With all those behind me

Floating away

As if in another land


Anywhere in which only me



Less depth then this pond

River or lake


I’m comparable to lost poets


Poetry once written

For things within are always hidden



Yet what rises off of it steam


Things inside tend to surface


When one is brought to their most heightened






It all eventually…

Falls from us

Weights, bricks

As lessons

My legs move forward to meet him

I ring out my wet tresses

Letting them fall

No longer caring what I appear

I let him

Embrace him

Let go


Because there are always times

I retreat within.


Angela K. Crandall, Author


By rebel4universal2acceptance Posted in Poetry Tagged