The Far Away

Dreams that seem beyond my grasp
Unattainable even to the last gasp
Hope denied on a daily basis
My entire life lived in stasis
No chance to rise above my station
Just another lost cause in this nation
My sorrows buried in consumer debt
Only need one more dollar to bet
Distracted by the quiet song
Whispers for that which I long
Jealous thoughts of a pristine beach
Tears for what’s always out of reach

By Nicholas Byrley


They stopped so gradually I barely noticed.

From every night to once a week and less as time went on.

Where did my dreams go; I no longer hear their whispers.

Has some thief pocketed them, or have I simply been forgotten.

Perhaps my dreams were not big enough and were found wanting by the night.

I endure a drought of my spirit, the absence of hope.

Every evening sees me empty, a void without succor.

In this haze I remain, bereft of the passage to my soul.

By Nicholas Byrley

I rarely ever dream and when I do I don’t remember them.

The Plan

It Goes a Little Something Like This…


I have been giving much thought lately as to what I will be doing at the end of my thirty days. I considered taking a break and then committing to writing a few times a week or something like that. But I decided that would be too easy, and probably fail to motivate me towards my goals. So instead I will just extend posting once a day indefinitely, with the added goal of beginning to write so called ‘flash fiction’ and short stories in addition to poems and blogging about my life. It has been a little tough at times to keep up the one post a day but by giving myself no choice not to do it, I’ve actually kept up with it. That system is working quite nicely for me, so I see no reason to break it. And really, there is at least one thought or something happening every day in my life that is post worthy.

The ultimate goal of all this dedication and self training is of course to become a ninja. To become a writer, I mean. Ideally, a published writer. That way at fancy parties I can adjust my glasses and casually mention my last book doing whatever it is books do that is significant at fancy parties. Even more so than that, the dream would be do it full time and actually earn a living off it. To that end, I’ve been researching writing jobs online and there actually seems to be quite a lot of them. Low pay and no one is looking for fiction writers really, but its legitimate work. I could even admit to being a published writer if someone thinks I can hack out a guide to choosing the right USB charger adapter or something of that sort.

So, to summarize, the road looks long and unprofitable, but I’m gonna do it anyway and try to enjoy every minute of it.