Many times I’ve sat there. “Don’t leave me, I don’t want to die alone.” And sat there. “I’m here. I’m with you” A dying thanks is bittersweet but it’s still the last thing they said. It’s a station I choose for my life. It’s an honor to be nurse. Immersed in fellow man through so many trials and tribulations, so many life changing events. Some beginning and some ending. But the nurse is stationary. Their station is beside you- whether that means with you, for you, putting something in you (yes), over you, under you (yes, too), taking something out of you, in and out in a flash, helping you, just know their station is beside you. Whether you see them or not they are always thinking of you. It’s their duty. It’s a noble place to be in life, when a fellow being needs you, and you’re there. The most rewarding measures I can account for in this life are acts of giving of myself. To make a job of it is an understatement. It’s way more than a job for me. It’s my calling, my passion, as I said before, my station. I am a nurse.

Joel Prickett 5/6/18

How to love

How to love

Love deep….

Til bonds are made that are immeasurable

Love deep…

Til minds fill gaps that are pleasurable

Love deep…

Til feelings are found which have never been felt

Love deep…

Til your mind doesn’t care that your heart wants to melt


Love deeper….

Til your cares erode by the glimpse of a smile

Love deeper….

Til you lose yourself in eyes wanting your style

Love deeper….

Til your waking and sleeping moments are absorbed

Love deeper….

Til hands held spark flames of the one adored


Love deepest…..

Til you feel like your heart cannot take anymore

Love deepest…..

Til you know why you’re on this Earth for

Love deepest…..

Until it’s unconditional, irrational and beautiful

Love deepest…..

Until it’s not yours but His, and its spiritual.

Joel Prickett 6/3/16

Technology craze

Technology craze

The glaze controls the haze,

Fixed eyes on pixels daze-

Humanity slips from human phase-

Dull emphasis placed on the dooming craze.

The brain corralled down corridor,

Stunted growth for ever more-

Contracted elbows, fingers sore-

Becoming our own dinosaurs.

Techno advancing like a blaze,

But inward turns into the maze

Of our own minds which outward craves

The return again to simpler days.

It’s outward cravings the brain longs for.

To reach out into the world more

To remember why we are placed here for-

To love each other, not self absorb.

God only knows how this one plays

If we continue with our self-focused ways.

The color of the world slowly grays

In techno-color of passing days.

More humans than ever and ever before

Live neglectful of our sun’s rays

Did our fathers know what was in store

By teaching their sons ways…..

To destroy their Mother Earth?

Without any sense of worth

Or chance of rebirth

Joel Prickett 1/30/15

When your demons call

“When your demons call”

When your demons call they know what to say to get through to you.

They know precisely how to say it and when to say it too.

Your vulnerabilities are a virtual playground for them.

They know the deepest locked doors and how to get in.

The mind games they know are a special skill.

Which at a whim and whimper they gain their free will.

Their call comes forcibly, unrelenting and controlling.

Their tact is wrathfulness, unconsenting and foreboding.

They slyfully pry at your weaknesses and remorse.

The demons strive for your destruction without recourse.

The turmoil is savored, turned and basted repeatedly.

Like your soul’s anticipated consumption dangling on a rotisserie.

Demons will devour every last morsel of your life force.

To battle the demons their is but one recourse…..

To not fight them alone (demons love solitude),

To talk about them (demons love secrecy),

To ask for help (demons love egos),

To forgive (demons love resentment),

To be of service (demons love selfishness),

To laugh (demons love sadness),

To love (demons love hate),

But above all……….get with God. Who or whatever that is to you. And understand God IS good and HE is no demon.

Joel Prickett 3/8/17

Thrown Stone

Thrown stone

Cast it. Hum it. Text it. Tag it. Blog it. Bash it! It’s all the same.

Stones have new meaning in the world we live in today, just with different names.

They’re picked up and thrown on the wings of a paper airplane on the screen of your smart device.

Evil still delights in the venom being projected, it matters not in which way.

Let those without sin blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

I have a smearing campaign I’m participating in, no time for your word today.

The wrongs we have done, ourselves, in secret or in public -which corrode our inner being

Doesn’t escape the expansive vision of the One who is all seeing.

It’s weakness and lack of vision, rather diversion from the light

Which leads us down this very wide path to destroy another’s life.

To delight in perversions, to step out of our own spotlight, to join the mobs of the self righteous hulls-

Are the excuses we need to avoid the mirror while steadily bashing in each others’ skulls.

You see, a cyber stone or a concrete text are inevitably the same.

They’re hurled into this world’s wide web with intentions only to maim.

I struggle not to throw one, better yet to not even pick one up. To leave it where it lay.

It’s kinda like something I’ve heard before, or hope it’s something I think Jesus would say.

Instead, it’s rather, “in the name of God I wish they were dead!”

This is something that I’ve actually recently read.

I imagine myself being on the the receiving end of a horrific stoning. I’ve done bad things in my life and even threw some stones myself before.

I imagine what the woman felt when she was saved from it with kindly advice only to “sin no more”

That kind of Love is beyond our minds at times, but always in our reach

I guess I’ll shut up for now you’re getting stoned off hearing me preach.

Joel Prickett


The longest road

The longest road

There’s a road which runs to your mouth from your brain

Where there’s so little to lose but so much to gain.

These measly six inches can seem at times like infinity-

Sometimes they can cost you your life or your sanity.

The cost of holding back in saying what’s on your troubled mind

Can guide you to become emotionally crippled and lovingly blind.

The many road blocks established on this very tiny track

Can make moments fade away that you will never get back-

“I don’t know” “I don’t care” “whatever” or just mere silence

Obstructs this tiny path leading more to inward violence.

Stuffing down thoughts and feelings not allowing passage from the brain

Is actually in its own sense the definition of insane.

Its such a very short distance but such a long road-

At times like an overburdened traveler waiting to unload,

We carry these burdens forever, until we let them out,

Or they stagnate in our minds which leads to more doubt.

These barriers, these blocks, are of our own making-

We’re unable to see the end, of the road we are taking.

And fear or shame or pride or whatever it is which assists in the construction

Of these self assured road blocks which lead to our destruction-

Are the true obstructors of our God given abilities and humanity,

Which keep us driving on the endless road to this insanity.

To avoid the pitfalls of this sometimes seemingly endless route,

Is as easy as it is as just opening your mouth.

Let truth and love be your guide and you won’t steer wrong…..

And this very short road will not at all seem so long.

Joel Prickett


Their they’re there

Their they’re there


‘There’ is where there’s alliteration and there’s a poem about punctuation

which explains their situation of how they’re begging for communication.

This isn’t said with exclamation (!) but rather with “precise pronunciation.”

This may seem or sound like education, but that was then rather than now;

and where we’re at were it imaginable

is more like mental rehabilitation.

There’s no question (?) of your irritation

when you’re seeking grammatical gratification-

and your yore is hindered,

and your till is not full

until you’re full of distraction and frustration.

There’s no period(.) in time(:) where such pause(, 😉 was taken

to sort through the obstacles of proper communication

Than where we’re at now.

Whereto the two or more meanings have too brought us to this purpose driven point of ingratiation.

The mental expanse which one delves to both condemn and teach, a virtual human hyphenation (-)

does absolutely less than (<) nothing to improve the situation.

Rather it pulls intolerance further from stagnation

With pompous attitudes staring down on those with less education-

A grammatical force-feeding leading to extensive conflagration.

Superiority is truly a (delusional) flight of the imagination

With no prize greater than(>) the furthering of separation

of our kindred in whom we should care.

Is it really better up ‘there’?

In you’re perfect world in which your full of indignation?

Sometimes I two want too feel perfect to but have tew stop myself without hesitation.

It’s possible to help or teach someone with the air of love and humility rather than beration.

By Joel Prickett 2/1/19

Cubicles of mankind

Cubicles of mankind

Evolution!!! Here we are at highest height, greatest greatness and pined for pinnacle.

While each of us, everyone of mankind is designated their own cubicle.

The most intelligent intelligence, brightest brightness and wisest wisdom

Has delivered us here, to our alone kingdom.

The perpetual perpetrations, the neglectful neglects and selfish selves we inflict inwardly-

Has left mankind aimlessly aimed and willfully laid waywardly.

The cubicles of mankind have been constructed, molded and skillfully planned-

All evolving in congruence and paralleled with greater technology in our hand.

We departedly depart, vacantly evacuate and lovingly leave from our greatest asset as a race- our humanity.

With our noses in our TVs, phones, pads or keyboards we blindly blind ourselves from our own calamity.

Please stand for a momentous moment and glance over the partition of your mind.

Find your neighbors, friends and family-reach into their cubicles and find…….

Caressingly caress them

Lovingly love them

Beholdingly hold them

Touchingly touch them

Talkatively talk with them

Laughingly laugh with them

Soulfully sell yourself for free

Be a being with them, to them and for them

A human being

This is your freedom from the cubicles of mankind.

By Joel Prickett 8/8/15

Soul Searching

Soul searcher

The exterior covers the precious soul-

It’s what is seen by fixed eyes,

As a human disguise to prevent connection and give our human race it’s whole.

Unfixing the orbs is the chore that most negate by choice-

And choose residing in the superficial regions of gender, race and voice.

To live this minimal life has taken hold

Of our humanity, and it’s taking its toll.

We no longer reach inward toward each other, rather repel the disguises and feel good with our choices-

All the while negating each other’s soul.

Resetting the mind and heart is the mightiest feat, when we approach each other, where or however we meet-

And gathering courage and love granted by our own souls’ strength

To stretch our vision to a further length. To find that persons soul.

Soul searching takes new meaning when you’re not focused on yourself.

The souls purpose is not meant to be placed upon a shelf.

The greatest possession, as a human, that we own is being pushed further away from its truth.

We withdraw into our own comforts, needing more and more assurance while the soul lies dormant with more than enough proof.

Search each other’s souls-

Let it be your guiding force-

Let others search your soul through your life’s course.

You’ll find your soul has more abilities than you can imagine.

Your soul can soar to places you have yet to fathom.

Yes. Your soul can soar.

By Joel Prickett 11/26/15

What interventional poetry means to me

Interventional Poetry

I’ve lived a life of many facets from childhood agonies to young adult tragedies and dysfunctions to middle age recoveries and spirituality. My poetry has ranged and evolved with these changing facets and began with love and angst, anger and pain and has also evolved to speculation and observations with my god given gift, one of my purposes in life, to help people with my poetry. My later poetry is more solution based with directions to assist the tortured, agonized and addicted with my own personal advice to the reader. I have always liked the term ‘interventional poetry’ to describe such help.

Joel Prickett 5/1/18