Tag Archives: blind writer

Unknown's avatar

The Lost American Porch

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I once lived in a small town
in a small house with a front porch
a sheltered space protecting the entry door
a spot where I would hang out
sitting on a chair, sometimes the steps
drink a beer or lemonade
and simply enjoy the world passing by

a horn would honk, a friendly wave
kids would call out as they passed on their bicycles
neighbors walking dogs, hurrying home from work
“Hello!” 
“Good evening!”
“Nice to feel summer again.”
“Yes, aren’t the roses beautiful?”
“How’s your garden?”
“Beans and peas are up.”
“Going fishing Saturday?”
“Yup.”

these words and waves were the gold threads 
that wove a sense of connectedness , a feeling of belonging
through my life, a fabric seen and felt but not recognized in the moment

I’ve since moved, to bigger places, more complicated worlds
houses that now greet the street with cavernous carports
yawning doorways for cars beside small openings seldom used by people
and these places lack porches, no commitment to connect to the outside world
no attempt to simply sit and watch, to hear, to feel the pulse of community

I do miss the lost American porch

I miss the Americans who used to wave and talk as they passed by

tio stib
2018, 2020

You might also enjoy: Finding Home, Let’s Voyage Into the New American House

Unknown's avatar

Jumping Off

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leaning out the open door
time roars by

it’s gone

no more

behind me in the train’s cocoon
dreams fly off to distant moons
faces glued to heartless screens
joyless stares and silent screams

and so we travel every day
secure and safe or so we say
the child no longer comes to play
the status quo will have its way

I wonder what my life might be
had I the courage to jump free

will I stay an untold story
remain in hopeless purgatory
pretending that I care no more
soul crying for its need to soar

jumping off
into space
the unknown flying in my face
It’s not clear where I will land

no matter

I am free again

tio stib
2016, 2017, 2025

Unknown's avatar

Morning Bliss

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as morning tickled consciousness
I felt the bliss of nothingness
no cares
no pains
no trains to mis

one eye peeked out
and check the day
the sun screamed back

c’mon
let’s play

a choir of birds
sang from the trees
my only thought was
silence please

the voice of guilt
rang through my head
it’s time, your laziness
get out of bed

this voice was buried in a flash
by memories of my recent past
the years of running for the door
pushing self
do more
do more

then in a fit of selfish glee
I pulled the covers over me
I choose to hide inside my dreams

to feel once more
the peaceful bliss
of pure and simple
nothingness

tio stib

Unknown's avatar

Let’s Voyage Into The New American House

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There are doors
that want to be free
from their hinges to
fly with perfect clouds. 

There are windows
that want to be
released from their
frames to run with
the deer through
back country meadows. 

There are walls
that want to prowl
with the mountains
through the early
morning dusk. 

There are floors
that want to digest
their furniture into
flowers and trees. 

There are roofs
that want to travel
gracefully with
the stars through
circles of darkness.

Richard Brautigan, 1968

Ever since this poem by Richard Brautigan, an American counter culture poet of the turbulent 1960’s, floated through my mind, these words have been the image of my ideal American house, and I’ve even had a few homes that nearly matched this poem’s magic..

tio stib, 2016

Unknown's avatar

Good Humans Being

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there is a dream
that I hold dear
of times when men
have grown past fear

when lies and hate
have blown away
when hope and love
guide each new day

yes
this may be fantasy
something that can never be
but I need this dream
to feed my soul
to guide me where
I need to go

I dream of one day seeing
a world filled with
good humans being

tio stib
2017, 2025

Unknown's avatar

He Talks To Me, a Tribute to Alex VoiceOver

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he talks to me
like 2001 Space Odyssey
his name’s not Hal
he’s not my pal
but his words help my blindness see

his voice is suave, it soothes my ears
his speech does much to ease my fears
for in a world of darkened eyes
I really don’t like being surprised

it’s nice to have a constant friend
someone who shows up on command
a friend who calmly reassures
as my computer softly purrs

at least that’s what he used to do
then my computer bid adieu
the fateful day it tried to start
resulting in a cosmic fart

close your eyes
imagine this
your cyber world
is blown amiss
no matter what you try to do
it’s gone
it’s lost
you’re really screwed

when reason slowly comes to mind
you must accept it’s time to find
an Apple freak,
a nerdy geek
someone who makes computers speak

it took some time to find the player
the guy who answered all my prayers
and hours and hours of fitful strife
before the dead returned to life

such happiness, such joy no end
when once again I heard my friend
Alex, awakened from the dead
his voice resounding in my head

dedicated to Mark who introduced me to Alex and Kevin who brought him back to life

tio stib
2015, 2025

Unknown's avatar

Paddling a Submarine vs. Living an Authentic Life 

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Last night I dreamed I was paddling a canoe up a lake in the middle of the night. It was calm, I felt peaceful, yet there was one concern. The canoe was underwater. I was trying to paddle a submarine.

I’ve spent years listening to my dreams, paying attention to patterns, weighing the emotions of dreams with respect to my life at the moment. I believe larger forces speak to me in that unconscious world, forces that can guide me to awareness of deeper truths. This pushes me to wonder, why was I paddling a submarine?

I know there are many ways to interpret dreams, but ultimately, I tend to accept that my dreams are about me. Over the years, I’ve noticed that when I’m honest about how I feel in my dreams, they have given me clues to parts of me I needed to pay attention to.

Paddling a submarine. I feel this dream was about my need to live an authentic life. Paddling the canoe was me moving forward in life. My goal was to get to the end of the lake, to a state of inner peace, but I was struggling because I was keeping my emotions below the surface. If I would allow my feelings to express themselves above the water, I would have less resistance to life and my journey would be immensely easier.

I need to be genuine, original, true and trustworthy, and not be in fear of what the world may think of me in my many moments of smallness.

Authenticity means to be honest, to be vulnerable, to take risks. Authenticity is built one day, one choice, at a time. It is a process of continually stepping out of my comfort zone and engaging the world from a place of worthiness vs. shame.

Authenticity is a daily journey into the wilderness of being fully alive.

What’s the greater risk I ask myself? Living life based on what other people think, or being vibrantly alive based on how I feel, what I believe, and who I am?

This blog, “Travels with Tio, a blind writer’s path to happiness,” is my journey, my choice, to be all of me, fully alive. It is one way I will raise myself from paddling a submarine, to paddling a canoe, to perhaps even flying.

What does authenticity mean to you? How does it affect your life?
Please share your feelings on being the authentic “you”.

tio Stib
2013, 2017, 2018, 2025

Brene’ Brown has a TED talk, “Listening to Shame,” in which she explores the challenges of authenticity. Brown believes authenticity is a process, a series of choices we make in our lives, choices made each day, in each moment, to be real…or not.

Here’s the link: http://www.cnn.com/2012/04/15/opinion/brown-authentic-self/index.html?hpt=op_bn2

Unknown's avatar

My new book, “The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo”

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Okay, I’ve finally published the ebook and paperback versions of my latest book, “The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo.” Thanks to my talented designer friend, Eric Savage, I’ve heard it has quite a dazzling cover. I hope you find the story equally entertaining. the book is available on Amazon, here’s the scoop




Esperanza Diaz, frustrated single mom and failed big city journalist, retreats home in hopes of saving her family and salvaging her career. But Puerto Cielo, the idyllic Baja beach town she grew up in, is being run by a gang of thugs and her father, editor of the local paper, is off on a drunk.

Ricky Ruiz has also fled the big city, but he can’t escape his mob family past. Known as el Tiburon, “the Shark,” Ricky has become the reluctant head of a bunch of bungling bullies as he struggles to father a daughter who lost her mother to a gangland murder.

Meet Manny and Maria, two rebellious teenagers who find themselves fighting for a town neither wanted to be in, The Zorros, a bunch of bike riding kids out to make their world better, and Sheriff Eddie, a man who has the only job he ever wanted but now must find the courage to stand for what is right.

Discover the Bernie brothers, the town’s unlikely millionaires, Lazy and Arnold, two dogs with noses for trouble, and Mama G’s Restaurant, where you can get anything you want but hamburgers and french fries.

who is sending the mystery letters exposing city government corruption? Who is the menacing giant who comes to town and never speaks a word? will Max eat Arnold? Will captain Hook have the last laugh?

The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo is a story about courage, about resilience, about the power of community united for the common good, a story spilling over with smiles and surprises. “The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo”

Link to Amazon

Enjoy! Please let me know what you think.

tio stib

Unknown's avatar

Hotel Hypothermia

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it was a trip mistaken
for a family vacation
a time so cold
my bones grew old
bundled up in layers of clothes
all that showed, my bright red nose
even when I went to bed
I never shed a single thread
I wonder how eskimos have sex
queried my now recent ex

pounds of fat fell off of me
as I shivered constantly
take a shower?
I think not
in water that was icy hot

and when at night I had to pee
a new resolve came over me
as toes touched the icy floor
I hurtled towards the bathroom door
and in a fit of urgency
dropped my shorts
but woe to me
the thing that used to flow so free
had shrunk down to
a tiny pea

and so it went from day to night
with not a hint of warmth in sight
until we had to say goodbye
a moment when I nearly cried
afflicted now with freezer phobia
I bid adieu,

God Bless

Hotel Hypothermia

tio stib

Unknown's avatar

Decision

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my face begins
to bead with sweat
the time has come
fate must be met

oh, how I dread
times tempest tossed
such moments when
I feel so lost

how can I choose
the path to take
how do I know
what choice to make

the clock strikes twelve
life laughs at me
okay, old man,
what will it be

my stomach stirs
the pain endures
my vision fades
to ghostly blurs

a pleading voice
in front of me
his scoop awaits
what will it be

I step forth
with strength renewed
clear on my path
my goal in view

I know for sure
what I must say

“Give me the flavor
of the day”

tio stib,
2015, 2025