It’s easy not to pick up the laundry off the floor

And let the piles lay like mountains you’ve never climbed

To allow papers to fill the trash bins with no plans to recycle

And it goes on this neglect, this allowance of lazy

But it’s not where I’ve been

It’s Instagram, editing, and working each day. A roller coaster of goals and no play

Then trying to fit in that tight wedge, to coexist, but get peace-d out instead

You’ve accepted your lot, tried to turn the tables, but they aren’t turning baby, and nobody is playing

There are judgments and haters, then maybe like two takers

Once in a while when I stand in the field they come up to watch me, bat

That’s the play that I get

~Angela K. Crandall~


What used to be.

I miss you
Being understood
The light you turned on within me
Our friendship growing brighter
Now everyone who understands is far away
I’m told no one has to understand
And I wonder how they
The others who claim this is Okay survive
As I try to be bipartisan but still get burned
While the world turns and hate thrives
And those that love me back the best are furry creatures who don’t answer back
Being denied what you need is allowable
When you are told you allow it, but instead turn away
Still shunned
And no matter how used to it I try to get
The more I want to crawl into a hole
To not exist at all
But I can’t do it
I wish I could
If I were brave, I wouldn’t exist at all
And they may care for a day
To look as if empathy lives in their hearts
But it’s only a show
From start to finish
As they hold the glasses high
I choose to endure the suffering
I choose to cry
I decide to keep going
And I sometimes wonder why.
Angela K. Crandall

The dark side of me.

I keep writing
As if I’ll share my words with you
Then keep denying them
I hold them dearly inside
But I don’t keep secrets
I opened my book long ago
Reading from it waiting for a reaction
Satisfaction in, a me too
Then I closed my eyes waiting for grief to pass
To move beyond
But I never did
Stop searching for the social connections I lack
And that has driven me mad
Maybe manic
So I type, write, tell stories
Save Lives
In pages
Places I’ve created
And wonder how many other flashes from the past can I pick up
Bring them to life
Change the endings
By creating a beginning
That never was
As I recoil in the darkness
While they say, use

                                                   Angela K. Crandall


Your heart

Have you surrendered?
Did you give them everything?
How far did you go?

Was she a friend, who is he?
And I hear it, from afar, as I sip my tea.
Turning back to my book trying to ignore them.
I find my napkin randomly ripping it apart,
Then consider talking to them,
Telling them all I know.
That this love shall pass.
And if it doesn’t well
That’s luck
Or growth;
Whatever perspective I suppose you see.
Me, it was poison I drank.
But it was friendship, not a lover.
Manipulated to think that maybe I could have what once existed.
Then Wham! It seems to always happen,
Oh, not always
But once
And I don’t expect it again or ever.
I get up to move as they discuss where to eat.
I have my other half
That is the argument I’m given.
But there are a few stragglers around my heart.
Ones who see me, the rainbow
Cherish the bright colors.
It feels though only one isn’t fading
And you can’t rely on one person
Smoother them
So I take each acquaintance and smile.
Push- myself to believe
That every life I touch counts
And close friends are limited,
Once we’re true to ourselves
And that’s
Just the consequence, of not being fake.

Angela K. Crandall


From pain comes art.

“Everyone matters and has something to give.

For those hearts that see this seeking out others with the same.

I bow to you in acknowledgment of wholeness, understanding, kindness, and yearning to connect.

Inside my soul burns to meet others who wish to collaborate in this search for universal light.

Let no one take your candle but instead let’s hold it together up high so that all can see. Let us heal each other in spite of the hate and lies surrounding us.”

Angela K. Crandall
© 1/3/18


My heart is spilling out poetry profoundly
Over analyzing
Every evening
Tempting fate
For a solution to debates
Problems, troubles, conflicts
Pleading that others see beyond their own biblical perceptions
The more I see
I want to be
Agnostic again.

Angela K. Crandall


An act of hope

I don’t wait. I hope and act.
I swim in the sand when there’s no water refusing to drown.
If I need to let go, I cry.
But I don’t let the tears bury me.
I release them so I can stand up.
I allow you in or shut you out depending on how you make me feel.
~Angela K. Crandall~©10/14/16

Exploding inward

“Keep wanting to be seen, Heard, made to matter
All I get is T.V. chatter
Angsty games played
Out of the line, I crawl burrowing myself into a hole in the wall
You might as well pack it in
I keep beginning again
Over and over
You continue to bury me
Saying come out and play
You can make it
You will fit in
My disfigured puzzle piece won’t let me in.”
~Angela K. Crandall~