The Perfect Poetry 4 All (Highlight of Poets Rally Week 33)

Greetings, everyone!

Promising Poets Parking Lot is excited to publish the 10th poetry journal of the week-November 18-24, celebrating remarkable ending of Thursday Poets Rally week 33.  All our poets are brilliant artists who have been excellent writers and poetry promotion leaders… About 86 poets attended poets rally week 33.

Let me know if I have overlooked your work or you have found errors in the work being represented here.

Thursday Poets Rally Week 34 Will

take place during the week

December 2-8. 2010

A post about the detailed information of the Rally will be up on

December 1, 2010 at

Wow, Love You, New Poets!

Welcome Back, seasoned Poets!

Hope to See You All On Week 34. xxx



lies within the lives
of every single human beings
Seeking the existence of oneself
to know that life exist within each other
The light that shone upon us and
bring us out alive
from the skies of  darkness
Warm and Soothing
Embraced by the sparkling light
Changing from one to another
Getting used to all situations
Moving ahead and Looking back
Searching and Knowing the truth
Destroying and Building your world
Thinking and Working towards
one’s goal and dreams
Never giving up
The light of life is
always sparkling from
within each and
every one of us
but do anyone


Jamie Dedes:

Remember when the fireflies came out at night

Transforming sterling silver moonlight into gold

Fluttering in the Damask garden, heavy-scented with rose

Pungent with spearmint and ripening lemons


Early summer along that stone wall by the ancient church

Caterpillars slept in white cocoons, sacred and peaceful

As a young mothers’ womb, transforming to butterflies

To dance by day among the tombstones, yellow daisies,

And the lush hydrangea in antique hues of mauve

Leaving the night to the flit and sparkle of the fireflies


The stretch of ocean nearby once brimmed with life

Foaming salty joy and waving teal greetings at

clear azure skies softened by cotton-candy clouds

Tossing up briny ocean wealth upon pristine sands

Casting shells like shards of hope along the shore

The sultry summer rains tumbled down just as

warm and true and pure as a sweet child’s tears


And once upon a time remember, Earth people

Walked tall in woodlands and green valleys

Stalking berries and roots and healing herbs

Enjoying the ancestor butterflies and fireflies

Playing with their Earth children by day and

Sleeping in sheltering caves under animal skins

Alongside fires for warmth, comfort, cooking.


Remember when the fireflies came out at night

Transforming sterling silver moonlight into gold?

They’re gone and with them the butterflies and

the clean oceans and what’s to become of us?


Scent of my heart:

One moment, dizzy seconds, escaped out of time,
found shelter in the space between your face and mine.
Flash secured in the air that we breathe,
whisper coming out unevenly, chasing the contours of our eyes.
Hearts with chaotic rhythm, facing desire and pain,
searching for the edge where the torture would somehow end.
Hope in the static and the touch of flesh on flesh,
fingers in my hair, hands on your arms.
Climbing butterflies on my back, expecting your move,
slipping silence over you, wanting to reach me.
One moment without direction and with it one breath away,
enclosed in time, caught in a kiss, your kiss.



Sweeping thoughts-
A soft tickle,
across ivory keys.
Melancholy is my soul,
my heart cumbersome.
Solitary notes
of hollow ire,
penciled in.
Left to myself
in what seems to be
an endless fall
into ebony sands.

Echoed notions,
steeped in dismay
as my companions.
Seeking refuge
in tears,
and resounding chords
of self pity.

in time,
when once again,
the music plays-
These matters,
will be nothing of affect.
An embarrassment,
a reminder,
a lesson perhaps.
To make me stronger,
or so they say.



walking this morning
with my daughter’s hand in mine
waiting at the curb
for her ride
a big yellow bus
filled with all sorts of kids
I watch her as she steps up smiles and goes in
waves to me as it pulls away
little does she know
such strength she demonstrates
never could I deal with all so much unknowing fates
unfriendly faces
so I smile back and wave
proud at what she is to become



Looking at the Horizon far away,

I wonder; when I would die.

I have lived my Life, enjoying my time;

Of whatever was left of my ill- fate.

I no longer laugh, no longer smile..

The beauty doesn’t awe me anymore!

I wish to now close my eyes,

So I don’t scare myself of the veracities..

A wonderful Dream; alas! Is only a Dream-

Making the transition to the present even bitter.

I wish to now sleep tight forever..

And no more visualize or be jolted to realities!

O Lord of Destiny, take me to a place-

Where nothing exists and is far away..

Friends, Failures, Feelings, Fallacies;

I leave them behind and walk away.



Once He sent to earth,
A pretty princess in red,
To be cared by Mother,
In a nourishing soft bed.

From handsome princes,
She wished to choose,
A groom who’d love her,
Like morning to a dew.

First suitor soon arrived,
Made her blossom soon,
She began to love him,
Like stars to the moon.

Alas, it never happened,
In a trice, he was away,
But arrived, the second,
Scorching lonely days.

He possessed a warmth,
But she withered away,
But her prayer He heard,
And short was this stay.

For a breath of relief,
There remained no time,
With a shower of love,
Arrived the next in line.

All her scars of before,
He washed very quick,
His cool touch, she liked,
But even he didn’t stick.

With a strong icy breath,
He made her to shiver,
A white blanket, he gave,
No stop to her quivers.

No prince did stay long,
All wanted her as bride,
She died; reincarnated,
But still the princes tried.

She asked Him future,
A wedding was in store,
Soon she was betrothed,
Wife to the princes four.




I was, and am, and always will be
In love with you, my dearest
For when you are close or near me
You enliven me, I say in earnest

I am glad, you gave me your heart
When there were many to die for you
Just like the moon holds onto earth
And all the stars, lost in the blue

With you, your love and blessings
I can swim through the highest tide
You have always taken care of my feelings
And are a lovely romantic life-guide

I can never imagine a life without you
You are a flame within me, my inner-light
If bereft of you, to life, I will bid adieu
As it will be as dark as a new-moon night.


Someone Is Special:

Strangest of the minds that alighted on me
Attracted and influenced truly and completely
Reminiscent of My Maker and the Infinite Energy
Apposite to the life in this human body
Versatile genius, His veritable sweet child
Assiduous in life and advantageous to lives
Nature’s Greatest Asset with musical ears
Assertive and articulate in words
Kingdom of thoughts, pure and precious
Unexampled happiness with unexceptionable honesty
Master of unfeigned smile and ineffable joy
Appreciation of her ten-month wait
Rendered the finest of souls to earth
As someone special to me
Father I thank you
For this cute &


Life or something like it:

Small things are gigantic.   A heart on fire in the middle of the ocean.  One lonely tree on a hilltop.  An old couple holding hands at the market.    A clock on the mantle counting down the moments.

I thrive on pretense and assumption, on hope and yearning.  Some corner of meager existence, where things make sense in a small way, and little things are just little things, with a spill or two along the way.

Comfortably weary and restless.  I hear there’s only so much time.  And sometimes everything just has to be slow like snow falling.  And sometimes there is no reason, just an idea.

A concentrated mediocrity.  Boiled down, reduced, reclaimed, returned.  A lifetime isn’t enough.  There’s never enough time or hunger to go all the way round.

But to need a little less.  To let in a little more.  Of the world.  Of you.  So put on your face.  And your dancing shoes.

Life waits for no one.



I can see my dreams come true..

In the ocean of your eyes..

Like Sapphires they shine so blue

Make me break all wordly ties..


I can see my desires burn bright

In the vastness of your love

As dispels darkness – the sunlight..

You’re my angel from heavens above..


I can feel my pain wash away..

When you take me in your arms

As have vanished cloud covers- grey..

And silenced my internal storms


You are all I want

You are all I need

Your name is what I chant..

Your words are all I heed..



A soldier stared,
in the way that they trained him.

Honor surrounded the periphery of his heart,
where ravaged pictures swelled.

They trained him to sift through the garbage,
for Worthy Things.

He did.

In the silence of nights,
He wept,

-a boy wordless at the costs of war,
for the tears of a mother whose children had lost their youth,
for families who wandered homeless in the terrain,
for animals who ran with terror in their eyes,
and for the lights of a sky that should have been beautiful.

He wept and he stared…
then fixed a face on his head with a certain gaze.

He reached further inside his Self,
again and anew.

for roots that held his legs firm for standing,
for hands that wrapped around steely things,
for eyes that gleaned food for a heart…
…that reached for him.

He reached again and anew,
a boy’s life,
a mother face,
families who wandered for wholeness,
and light in the  eyes of animals.

He reached,
for skies,
that were beautiful,

-again and anew.


Kick out jams:

Charlie Chaplin doffs his hat as

Buster Keaton leans against the wall.

“We’re just flickering these days.”, says Charlie.

Buster smiles enigmatically, keeps silent.

The white screen wall, blank in its

blinking light, absorbs their shadows,

soaks up their slapstick soliloquies.

In the stalls, Fatty Arbuckle finishes a bottle

thinks about youth arrested and smiles, wistfully,

at a career as cross-eyed as Ben Turpin.

Meanwhile, somewhere overhead,

Harold Lloyd is hanging around, out of time.

The frame shifts out of focus

and the reel ends.



Keep warm by the light of a burning book,

Think of the crying child you forsook.

Justice often starts what more justice is forced to end,

The anger and shouting of a crowd does not always mend.

No matter their flag or philosophy, history repeats and they never see,

That killing is killing, and killing affects me.



at times like this
I can’t help
but think of Oklahoma
a place I’ve never been
and probably will never be

I guess that’s where
the beauty is

in not traveling,
not even to see friends –
it’s the recession
whatever that is

I go to Oklahoma
and nobody can follow

I don’t even have to move
all I have to do is choose
which horse to hold on to
and even if it’s just
inside of my mind
some part of me is riding,
sprinting, leaping, galloping
across fields of green
unlike any you’ve ever seen.



ever flawless raindrops
mercifully adorning
the naked arms of an old willow

as if in a secret sacrament
paint the soul of clouds
on the muddy canvas
covering the careless roots
with false hopes of a mild fall…

burlesque shivers
undulate the air into some
contorted fragile lace,
ethereal ephemeron

betraying the ashen bliss
of ignorance…

could you blame sunlight
for sometimes hiding in the bosom
of sky’s memories?


Poems | My World:

Seven wonders of the world ,
the pictures when I saw,
‘what is the greatest wonder?’
the question aroused raw.

All these wonders, so special

no doubt ,but then;
everything we see are miracles,
yet taken for granted.

Everyday sun rises east ,
the moon comes at night,
rain gives us water so pure,
the air only in earth.

God created universe
man  created his own,
God gifted powers unique
so he could be like Him.

If all these are miracles,
then what you call the man?
The greatest wonder of the world
who feels himself a small God.



I would
like for there
to be
a God
loves me

eternal breath
in everything
I see

and harmony
to this
chaos theory
we call

I see
a world
full of
and excess

every day
we live a
little less

our lives
with shallow
and low

So that
we protect
our inviolate

Not recognizing
the living
we create

As love
fades to

And apathy

Until the world
lies in
at our feet

And we
ever forward
to whatever
we are doomed
to greet

If we
are truly
created in
God’s image,
then this
I don’t
to meet.


Creation Dreams:

Warmth is lost, skies getting paler
Shivers are there to walk on the spine
Snow has fallen, a child’s delight
However, it belies the cold harbinger’s presence
Don’t go aksing the Fire God
He says “I’ll be on the other side of the world.
“Making my new kingdom. So go away.”
Soon comes the Ice God
Hide your  offspring, hide your loved ones
Lest they become eternally frozen
He targets a tree with his blue staff
Freezing it and making ice to make it a throne
Crystals shall arise from the ground,  sharp as knives
The whole place shall become his kingdom
A kingdom of frostbitten unpleasantness
Repetitive ice storms, and thousands of snow showers shall reign
This winter may just be the worst as the god chooses what shall happen
For perhaps the next 3 months
So prepare


The Eternal Uprising:

I will not let you twist my heart
No matter how hard you crank
I’m still a little hung over
From the Eternal wine I drank
I thought this was just a fun ride,
But it is hell if I must be frank.
Fail to feel all over again
Yet is my mind then left so blank.

This inflammatory language–
It begs to set the world on fire.
No matter the ways it may be said,
The pervert is bound to the pire.
Though you ever assault my eyes
With the burning and evil mire,
I will ever press on beyond you
Even if or when my soul does tire.


You have become my provocateur-
I will strike back with an image.
For though the earth may yet burn,
I have been set on a pilgrimage.
Canis Paradiso is on my trail
and will cause evil to hemorrhage.
When he sets his fangs upon you
Never will those wounds be bandaged.

Never provoke a hungry lion
unless you are in hunt of death
The last mistake you ever make
Always takes away your breath.
So turn away from your hatred
And finally forsake you wrath.
Best to flee a naked temptress
before it all flays your back.



The sketches paint my unsaid rue,
and night tramples them with an ultramarine hue.
It could have been, was it for me to decide;
So the moonlight heals my bruise tonight.


Ms. Peaches:

ATTEMPTING, standing, over again
ADJUSTING, letting go, shaking free
AGAIN you see me cuz
Yes, I’m DOIN’ me

NEWLY, if your not hearing me
NATURALLY, atypically kicked out
NECESSARY trash goes to the curb
NUBIAN queens are to be treasured
NOT NO! always NOW
NO longer NUMB I release your pain
See, I’m DOIN’ me

ESSENTIALLY not insane, my
ESSENCE will not be stolen ever again
ELEMENTARY is where it’s taught
It’s cool though, I’m DOIN’ ME

WITNESSing your atrocities
WHY you never let me be me
WRONGLY always accusatory, now
WRECKless is how u treated me, not
WITHOLDING, please believe
I’m DOIN’ me…


Strummed Words:

Coffee smooth as silk,
A glide of silk on shoulders,
Promises to keep.

Sheer morning mist,
A pearl of white over dawn,
Portents of the day.


Lu Ann:


I am scared of making mistakes, but I leap.

I don’t dance well, but I have fun.

I’m not good at talking, so I write.

I may be impulsive, but I calm down.

I don’t know how to react when I’m scared, but I pray.

I say a lot of things wrong, but I apologize.

I show that I care in a weird way, but I do show it,

I may feel the world is too much for me to take,

but I don’t mean to own it.

I am nothing,

but with you, God

anything is possible.

So ask me to go wherever you want me to go,

ask me to do anything you want me to do,

ask me to give up anything you want me to leave and

take anything you want me to take…

and I will.

“I don’t know where I am

I don’t know where I’ve been…

But I know where I want to go.”


Panda Wolf:

When the angels cry
Fire will rain and sleet will fall
Under a dark sky.


Seasweeties’ pages:

Sometimes you remember something
That you don’t want to remember.

I realized that I missed the Leonids last night.
Can I make up for it somehow?
If I spend the night in the cold big yard
Looking up
Will I still see stars fall?
Can I still make wishes?
Can they still come true?

Do they ever
Come true?

I don’t know.

I don’t know why
Atmospheric events could ever impact
The realization of dreams.

I did not wish on Hawaiian sunsets.
I did not wish on the pink clouds I saw
out my bedroom window this morning.
I did not wish on the first snowflakes
outside my cottage
or the drops of rain
from the biblical deluge in Fajardo.

Maybe I should have though.

I am remembering
too many wishes.


what’s on the menu today;

Ran into a long lost friend
More than that, a big piece of our past

People who knew us way back when
People who knew the best of

Back when we believed we would conquer
Back when we were pioneers

When we were all for one and all for the vision
When we were an enviable group of gatherers

People with whom we shared our strengths and weaknesses
People with whom we were a totally unrelated family

At first, it was a taken aback surprise
Until the words flowed and we were sharing like no time had passed

And maybe I’m naive to think we could go back
But as long as I’m still trying

Then I know it’s not my fault, then I can be sure
Then I know it’s a matter of time despite my intentions pure

And it reminded me how much I miss
And it set me to challenge myself, to be braver

We’re not dead yet and I have yet to forget
How much you still mean to me

As long as I’m still trying


Madame Simile Fox:

I, self replicating, imitating versions of my once self, as an arm breaks free of chrysalis-trying to defy this moving metamorphosis.

This slow moving feast of life.

This tasty eloquent dish I sup at, breathing in its aromas so  sweetly.

Tearing each moment limb from limb is the dance of savage life. As I become gentle weaving together new threads.

I, a queen in my making.


Colors of Mind:

When I’m walking with you,
I’m a feather floating in the cool air,
Dusted with melting mist: warm and so rare,
Like the kiss of an angel I don’t know from where!

When I’m walking with you,
I’m a bird flying free in the clear skies,
Caressing the mountain peaks: graceful and nice,
Seeing everything I want even with the closed eyes!

When I’m walking with you,
I’m a kid: gentle, innocent and cheerful,
Stupid, yet very lovable and playful,
Making every day so lively and wonderful!

When I’m walking with you,
I’m me, loving everything in the world,
I’m me, living every moment I could harness,
I’m me, seeing light where others see darkness,
‘Coz with you, I’m the best in the world!



Today your reflection appeared
in my mind so suddenly that it startled me
Your unexpected presence surprised
and overwhelmed me simultaneously
with a delightful mixture of long forgotten
but very intense feelings and emotions
I clearly felt the warmth of your smile
as I closed my eyes to take in your deliciously familiar scent
and then I gently pulled you out from that secret holding place
in the center of my soul where only you reside
At that moment your heart sat next to mine
and the loud sound of its powerful pounding gave me goose bumps…
I shuddered as I hugged myself
but if felt more like your arms around me
than my own
I slowly reminisced on thoughts of you
and I said your name out loud
just to break the silence
and delight in the sound of it again…
As if voicing your name to the wind
would really bring you back to my world
Then I stopped to recognized the value
of your presence in my life
while I relived the joyous moments you brought my way
feeling only gratitude for what was
and not lamenting what is no more…
And then I returned to my daily doings
Thinking that you would go back to where you are
So far away from me…
But you stayed there
standing to my left
warming my soul with heat of your breath
revitalizing my being with your laughter…
And loving me passionately
Just like you did in
That lost yesterday….



incendiary past unsolicited mistakes intruding

shadow memories that leave a smell

stalking will to change the path

I smooth your brow

feel the damp sweat

brush the tears

with my cheek

and speak softly

It’s just a dream

In the silent repose

of hoping I wait

for the fever to break.

in the night

In the silent repose

of knowing I wait

for you to wake.



I was swept away

love’s unexpected display

life’s pleasant surprise


Life is fascinating:

I stand here and watch them play,

They are all creations of my emotions,

I stand there and watch them cry,

I think I could have done better with my creation,

I stand above and oversee issues and conflicts,

I think I am being the unwanted big brother,

I stay low and carry all pains and troubles,

I think I am doing justice to who I am,

I created, I am the creator, I surround my creation

But I am no exception to myself and I question,

I am God, but who is God to God,

Who would watch me play,

Who would see my cry,

Who would solve my issues,

Who would carry me through troubles,

I am God, But who is God to God.

How am I born, and who is my creator,

My beautiful creation seems so complete,

What do I do by surrounding its beauty,

My charm finds a better place in humanity,

I am God, and whoever is God to God, I am better being Human.



All things turn into windows
As doors open to separate
Sections on the highway
If closed shutters are rusted,
then we must use
Inner-strength to open them,
with care
Winds blow …
Beckoning to be released
Through open
Doors, windows and shutters



Eyes close, drifting, dreaming- and still, sleeping

never quite breaks my mind. I feel restless.

Anxiously await for that clamor creeping,

perching upon such a such a slow disturbance.

Would you act, for little of an hour

Of your life, A little moment? Sparing

my indignity? And with my power,

wrapping your head in the dreams we’re sharing,

shedding that awful light; yet deep in my

shadows drifting softly, still your eyes close.

But mulled and dulled by a slow lullaby

You fall asleep. My anxiety grows.

Do dreams exist for you and I asleep?

For the light gives breath, and the days yet keep.



Dare to see

the answer

in this girl’s eyes

and in your eyes

touch it in the wind that

connects you

Dare to feel

the simplicity

of the movement

of your hand to

your craft, your mind

to her message

your productivity

meeting in the channel

of “Yes, I accept

your dare” coursing

collectively here

there now

Dare to hear

how related you are

dive into the darkness

of her eyes, accept

the penetrating darts

of your life force

and her life force

becoming our

force for change

Dare to proclaim

“Our force is for a greater

world dynamic than is

here right now!”

Dare to insist

to share to

live the reality –

the answer is

in her eyes

in your eyes

in her hands

in your hands

in her feet

in your feet

in her learning

in your learning

in your giving

in her receiving

in her giving

and in your receiving

Dare to turn again –

together only

to discover

Your eyes are her eyes

Your hands are her hands

Her feet are your feet

Her learning, your giving

Her receiving, your turning

right here

right now

is the answer

is the response

to the dare

right here

right now



On a September morning
I wake up and you are gone
The house is empty still, without you
But it’s not in me to hold on

Oh my dear, the wind is whispering your name
Calling you out to the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea
Under the clear blue sky
Will you remember me?

Every time I think of your goodbye
It still brings tears to my eyes
But I am letting you go
Because I know
I know

Oh my dear, the wind is whispering your name
Calling you out to the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea
Under the clear blue sky
Will you remember me?

I’m praying that you don’t
Get lost along the way…
If you do, my love…
If the sun fades away

May you always find a place to rest
At the end of your day

Oh my dear
The wind is whispering your name
Calling you out
To the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea

Only one thing that I ask
As you go on your way

Always remember me
Always remember me



“I love you more than if I were the mom

and you were the child,” she whispered to me

at the time, I think she was only three

or maybe five

but without a doubt

already wise

her heart so giving and so pure

better than she or I

loved chocolate, for sure

And with these words all her own choice

as this little game we played

that sweet unforgettable voice

said everything to me that day


10th muse:

Weary and milk-mild i stand
ankle-deep in wet sand, each
footprint a burden more than the last
as i head away from the solace
of heavy waters and
back toward solid ground.
And yeah, this road has a heartbeat,
hums with the rhythm of some gypsy dance
lost to the world centuries ago…

But i’ve
run up somehow on the sidewalk,
lost control of fortune’s wheel and now
the stones you’ve thrown into the gears
make it hard
to start any fire at all;
glass shards like stars
across cheeks who’ve
seen too many streams of blackest mascara
raining in through a late
autumn night;
meanwhile steam rises
out from under the hood
like the ghost of a lover
i thought i’d forgotten,

wish i
could forget.

I tell myself i’m happy,
unfold myself from the driver’s seat
and start walking; maybe,

Maybe this winter
will be easier than the last,
holding hope beyond the frost;
maybe my breath with steamy
tomorrows will dream yet
in tachycardia, untamed and
headstrong like the pulse
of the ocean…

But let’s
keep this between us as
these are secrets
for a December
that no man yet has seen.


Waiting for the words to fit
The song to sing
So I could describe the way I’m feeling.

Neither good nor bad.
But blank is not a feeling
So I need to decide.

Thinking of you makes me ponder
How I love your smile, your laugh,
Wishing it’s forever.

But forever cannot be determined
Even our “together”
Seize the day, carpe diem or never

I don’t know, I don’t know.
I’m writing with the flow.
But when my day meets dark,
It’s the same dilemma where I lurk.



I often dream of living near a stream
with Rumi to keep me company.

I often dream of living near a stream
that gurgles even in the summer.

I often dream of living near a stream
that bubbles with liquid birdcalls.

I often dream of living near a stream
where cicadas buzz in the noon.

I often dream of living near a stream
where pelf and power don’t matter.

I often dream of living near a stream
that brings me closer to heaven.





She walks alone on the beach

Tidal waves, stormy sea

Me, morning and my scattered dreams



I am shedding memories

Like leaves in fall

Did I loose you in between my thoughts?

My Way of Love


A part of my heart

Remains empty to let you grow

Into an ache



He is sitting alone

Burning his bridges

Piece by rending piece

Even before heart could smell

The acrid smoke of burning

The bonds are razed down

Flowing away in time’s unceasing current

Breaking heart tries hard to keep

The fire from going on hurting, flame by flame

His face, turned away

Shadow the flicker of the burning pyre

Of love, belonging and desires

A burning love, and burns at last.

Made of blood, as foolish as it sounds;

Memories drip, from bleeding heart

And love cast her name, again and again

On the deserts of time

Waves upon waves of pain

Tries to wipe the etched memories on sands,

Again and again

Why do I write?

Why do I write, my pain


The bonds, cast in sands of time

Matured in feelings

Nurtured in love

Will never burn away

Pyre turned ash, he slowly walks back

A life time ago



Shawn bird:

Gentle crystals fall.
Dancing through the frost filled air,
winter comes again



My guts were not enough for you to stay

For you are flying so high that causes me to stray

It leads me not to our reverie of blue moon

And I was thrown so hard in the black hole at noon

If you go for it, go all the way that’s what I say

So I follow the path that where you may lay

This leads me to my devastating nightmare

That brought me pain, and sufferings that I bear

I became happy with you the moment I flout

But only a glimpse and suddenly burst out

The idyllic forever of us is only an imagination

And I was awakened by your stupid rejection

All my queries were answered after the separation

For our ending is like a bitter sensation

For when the sunset begins the moon starts to mount

To let the sun knows she was destined to be left out


Unnamed Psalmist:

your temper will rise
when you hear my advice
every slip of my tongue
will halt you like a nun

to justify my cause and intention
i’ll deprive you of your illusion
a man will take charge
in any relationship disguised

and every inconsistency
of false personality
self righteousness mentality
of love, respect, kindness and honesty

hear me when I say
to shower words of solace
righteousness in love prevails
when emotional outburst unveils.


Hiding behind a fresh coat of paint
Not necessarily to hide my pain
Today i feel yellow
Maybe tomorrow I will be your Friend

Today its a Victorian mask
Tomorrow i will change the cast
Would you still like me for me
and not the girl I am not

Do I have to have a base
A single face I call my own
Why do you need to know me
and fall in the trap of all I am not



“Can love breathe in
After a week’s silence?”
“Lay it on the side
Till it opens up

“Can boredom settle
The lack of love,
Heftiness to prove?”
Cradles gently.”

“Can the past leave
The present
A scar to haunt?”
“Not so,
For it heals.”

“Can memories
Alter behaviors
Of love and affection?”
“It pines
But never caters.”

“What should I do
To bring back the love
That’s mine?”
“Nothing much,
But love divine.”


Truth is a useless thought:

I found living in a vacuum so hard
to take, so I ventured out, crossed
lines I didn’t make. Unaware of
marked territories; posted signs
warnings plastered on invisible lines

But there he was, standing in
my space, with a body and a head
that had no face. He aroused in me
the need to escape; I turned to run
but was bitten by a snake

Its poison seeped into a hole
already made; I swore this secret
would go to my grave. Believing
like any little child of twelve
that if I told, I would go to hell

But as time passed, I became fat
and little girls like me, just didn’t
do that. My body had swollen like
a little round ball, as the seed
of the snake begun to crawl

I was questioned about the lines
I’d crossed, told by others my soul
was lost. Locked away in a house
that had no floor, fed twice a day
though a hole in the door …

I didn’t have a voice that no one
would hear, so I lived my days in
darkness and fear. Soon the seed
of the snake crawled out of me
stomach went down; body released

I heard a small cry, but I didn’t
understand, that I had given birth to a
little brown man. I felt a stirring
deep within my heart, a lost when
they ripped the two of us apart

Years passed before I finally
understood why, broken hearted
I couldn’t even cry. They said the child
was born in shame, killed, because
it had worn my brother’s name

Now, it’s easy to live in a vacuum
everyday. I’ve created lines that keep
everyone at bay. Marked the territories
around my mind, keep out written
boldly, on invisible signs



Shower me with your sweet li’l kisses

Pamper me with all thy loving care

Imprison me in your warm sinewy arms

Let our eyes speak a thousand words

Let me melt in your warm embrace

Tell me of your true love and devotion

Oh, a penny for your wild thoughts

Yes, a nickel for your honeydew kisses

This isn’t a dream, this is real

If moon and stars are silent witnesses

They would only approve our love divine

And proclaim we’re a match made in heaven!


My unique world of poetry:

The whoosh of the wind,

The patter of the rain,

The chirp of the birds,

The buzz of the bees,

The ripples of the river,

The crash of the waves,

The rustling of the leaves,

The roar of the lion,

The hiss of the snake,

The squeal of a mouse,

The bark of a dog,

The mew of the cat,

The trump of the elephant,

The neigh of the horse,

The howl of the wolf,

The caw of the crow,

The moo of the cow,

The bleat of a goat,

The grunt of a pig,

The cluck of a chicken,

The click of a dolphin,

The kee-kee of the monkey,

The bray of the donkey,

Combined with more fabulous sounds.

So pleasant to hear,

To our sharp , ever open ears.



Marching endlessly
Never time to stop
On and on the move
Going to the ends
To protect you

Swords drawn high
Slashing through the night
Gathering members
They gather might
Moving forward no time to stop

Guns at their ready
Sights on spot
Positions holding tight
Enemy is approaching

Ready to fight
Not to run
These marching men
Stay until it’s done

Protecting the love they hold so true
These men fight for me and you



Sharing words of appreciation for all that is done,

Shows me I’m respected,

Being open and honest when we talk,

Lets me trust you more,

Reciprocating by doing something good,

Demonstrates love,

Not using critical or condemning words,

Shows self control,

Giving quality time shows you care,

And builds bridges of love,

Forgiving my failures from yesterday,

Lets me love and move on,

Asking questions with a genuine desire to understand,

Shows that you listened,

Forgiving me as a commitment you made,

Shows that you accept me as I am,

Exchanging kind words between us,

Draws us closer together,

Telling me you love me, reassuring me,

Shows your sensitivity,

Believing that relationships hold life’s deepest meaning,

Makes me value you more,

Making requests and not demands,

Allows me to respond gracefully,

Showing mercy when an offense is done,

Shows a mature heart,

Turning away wrath with a soft voice,

Promotes togetherness,

Cherishing intimacy in talk and action,

Brings a closeness we both want,

Making important decisions together,

Helps build respect,

Merging our lives as we become one,

Reminds us that our relationship,

Is not a project to be completed,

But a work in progress,

Treating our dreams as a gate to the future,

Helps us stay in love,

Understanding that each of us is human,

Keeps us from falling from a pedestal,

Looking for the good in each other,

Lets us find treasures forever.


I will shoot the moon:

Mean girls
and mean boys;
i am glad your are all ignorant,
Cause if you knew how deeply rooted your cruelness is in me,
would feel less then you made

YOU would struggle more than
have struggled,

So i am glad you don’t have the insight to realize,
i am glad you are ignorant,
«Ignorance is bliss», -as they say.

No capital i here,
cause i feel small,

and i think i always will,

try not to be bitter.



i gotta ask
if anyone in
of any of
those wilder
strains of genius
ever left behind
instructions about
when the path
disappears &
it’s desert in
every direction.
(even going
backwards didn’t

as near as
I can tell;

brothers & sisters;
i think
the only solution
is gettin’

i can’t explain
how & why;
none of those
amongst us
ever said
anything about

those fuckers.

also helps.




we get to the business of

putting down our roots.

Be open, tender,

Clean and wise; sheltering strong

Explorable you!

On spring sheets, our feet

Knees thighs hips bellies mouths eyes

Align and align.


Celebrating a year:

she felt her heart reopening
like a flower one petal at
a time she would never say that
she was fixed but she was getting
more solid more beautiful wing-
ing her way out into the glow
of second story sunlight know-
ing every scar each wound in its
process of healing all the bits
that were her life her seeds to sow



Chaste & pure.. untouched .. nothing endured

It stands like a snow house with decor

Frozen in time is this world I’ve built in me..

Roofing done in chocolate chip memories

Our passion hangs immortalized

in the Paintings on the walls

Illuminated with the sunshine of Our Smiles

Are each corner & the halls

In the Hearth lie embers of raging passions

glowing and with them burns the fire

carrying the warmth that emanated

from our deepest & sweetest desires

Overflowing fragrance of your undiluted charm

From the blooming buds is oozing..

In The garden ever fresh & green

not a whisper to change or move in its preserving

A silence echoing our unspoken moments

Yet the symphony of our singling conversation

Is the music that rings clear to fill the air

Pouring in me an unparalleled tingling Sensation 


Chris G:

Just a moment

If you would—

Never dread the dedications

Just a moment for a lifetime

Bubble “D” for destiny—

All suits and servility,

Master of the master-less

Hordes your own deception

Initial here to sign

This life into the hands

Of an angry world.

Not to worry—

You weren’t using it.




Gentle, like

butterfly kisses

heart affairs.


Tiny drops falling

magnificent multihued

its raining again



October. When you left me and went, it was Fall

And I was such a mess, hurting so bad

It was when that tree started to grow really tall

It grew and many storms it has had

Every year it got taller and stronger

In Summer it gave me shelter and shade

October again now, I wait for you  no longer

The tree lost its leaves again, colours will fade

Now  there is a light shining behind the tree

In the sky, a shining star so  very bright

In Orion,  that first I could not see

When the tree was in the way of the light

You won’t come back, but seasons keep returning

When there is need of shade , the leaves be there

And in Winter, the star I shall see burning

So worry not, for me you need not care



Waking up on Mondays
Is such a drain.
I feel like turning over,
And, going to sleep again.

But the week beckons me
With a half-opened bewitching eye,

And, with reluctance, I give in.
Well aware, and, fully knowing

That the loving caress might fade into a stony gaze,
By the time Friday decides to find its way through the maze.

For now, at least, it’s best to zip out of bed,
And, try to think of happy things instead.

So, before I rush out, let’s catch a steaming cup of tea,
And, let’s sneak in a special Monday moment for just you and me.


The Reason You Come:

Maybe it’s the sight of the night lights outside your window
Maybe it’s the row of cans of diet soda that sits in front of you everyday
That makes you smile, pleased to be here, winking at the mirror
It could be the simple fact of the existence of this place
And you exist in it, immune from the harshness of the world outside
With its glowering eyes, cruel hands, and its rotting, ugly teeth
But that was a moment ago, when a voice craved, this bed, that pen,
Your pretty face, and that red cocktail dress gave you warmth

Now, the coldness seeps in, turning your eyes into blades
You palpitate, your breath sounds becoming furious and violent
You stab your own heart, using your dagger voice, screaming
A book is torn, a hand un-held, bitterness is reborn like the phoenix
Tattooed along your spine, perfectly rigid you can’t even move
Paralyzed, the snake’s venom that oozes out of your mouth grips
You from head to toe; sweet as fear, bitter as the bile on your lips
Your love backs away from you, his face turning into a stranger’s

You cry, laugh, cry again, push him away, now kiss him, hold him
You speak to him with your eyes, stranger to stranger, even as disgust,
Confusion, fear, pity, love dance like a prism on his face, almost comical
Yet the city by your window is still lit, the world outside, still harsh
The room remains the same; it’s always the venue for this farce
Your screams have been silenced, all that reverberates is the air
In the stillness, you hear two words, one judgment: “Crazy woman!”
Like the sound of fingers scratching a blackboard; the woman roars

The stage is set again, the actor comes undone, ready to play the part –
The circus, with its angry acrobat hurtling through a ring of fire, is back.


Verse Escape:

As the heavy centuries have passed

Their light repeating strokes across creation,

Flowing the veils of earth at last

From a millennium’s striation

Yet working only on the surface of the whole,

So, subtle tireless and remote

The long years have washed you,

Put here a line upon your curving throat,

There in your dark hair a mica hue,

But pause now as the work draws near your soul.

A green airy growth lives inside each crack

The weathered rock turns upward to the sun.

The rain that slices inward to the bone

Reveals its solemn involutes knack

Of being rich in what all else may shun,

Thriving on the rind of true alone.

As the hand of man has served

To carve a quicker gore than windblown sand

Toward the ore the hillside hides reserved,

So your face is mined by your own hand.

The channels there were cut by salted tears,

And not the wayward miners of the years.

Your face was mark less once beside the river

Where we lay in harmony of mind.

Downstream the nuclear fire could not deliver

Half the power there for us to find.

Firefly light made weedy shadows vast

Where the vapor of the meadow burned

With heatless fire.

In the time stream’s flux we put a mast,

Round which the planetary sails billowed and turned

At our desire.

As the wheel of centuries has made

Chaos out of order, life from death;

As the crags and peaks where Moses prayed

Were once the ballroom where the breath

That cuts them now to dust and ruin

Was only known as seaweed’s dancing tune,

So now upon your face old thoughts parade

That I would sink deep roots in if I could

And end this lithophytes serenade

With soft sleep together in the green wood

And above us put the timeless firmament

At one with time’s and nature’s own intent.


Pages from my mind:

Dreams of past
from mind i fish
and color them in
future memories.
some beads of love
i gather silently
patches of tears
i join them with.
I imagine not
what shape i want
nor do i bother
of colors life grant.
I gather when i knit
metaphorical threads
daily ideas in my head.
I offer to all the gift,of
what i make and wear
it talks of wisdom
if you pretend to hear.
I sometimes dread the time
my fingers cease to move
but never will i desert
the yarn that broods.


Polluted Poet:

Like a gangster, I need to make a move
Desperate to do something quick to improve
my quality of life, my well being
my source of survival, my lifes meaning
I need to get back on my feet again
I need to fiend for what I believe in
by doing things I should not be doing
for and against my values, confusing?
my crime is not malevolent or malign
poetic justice, it’s called sometimes
where virtue is rewarded vice punished
persistence, til my life’s work is finished



Counting sheep
two gates
first gate open
count and second gate
open into the barn
I lose count;
one entrance
count and into the barn
they run too fast;
lead them one by one
into the barn
this takes time;
I will let them jump the fence
count and into the barn
some jump too low
get stuck in the fence;
it’s been hours;
shall I lead them
to the slaughter-house?
they look at me with sad eyes
guilt gets me there;
I open my eyes
it is morning already


M I M:

I need to write
I’m gonna get HIGH and write
I’m gonna get BLAZED and write
Because I need to write
Everyday there is something to put down
There are some words that need to be made to sound
So I need to write something down
Whether it be about the feelings of the heart
Notes and rights of the revolution
Abstract thoughts on life itself
Or the simple beauty of nature
There is always something to write about
So why do I have these gaps
These points of no poignant thoughts
These breaks that last for so long
Is it really nothing to write
Is it really nothing that I have to say
Or is it laziness
Just not taking the time
Or the ever valid excuse of being busy
Well non of this will suffice
I see myself taking to people at the roll of a dice
I mean on it
I spit
Never quit
I come with it
These words
All I gotta do
Is remember to write it down
With that I bring it to sound
And you know that’s where I’m found



I bath my soul

in the river of words

and let it take me away,

far deep

to where the rivers

meet the ocean

at that distant corner

where the ordinary eyes

fear to thread.

I bath my soul

in the ocean of messages

and let it consume

every part of me

as each available pores

on me

become a channel

through which

the river of words flow

and the ocean of message gushes.




The leaves, so red and brown,
Fallen on the ground,
Hidden by the snow,
More than can be told,
Swirling through the mist,
Feelings of being kissed,
As the cold and rosy cheeks,
So submissive and so meek,
Throw away the light,
Racing through the night,
And there’s nothing left to think,
When standing at the brink.


The autumn winds,
So heavy with the scent,
Of crushed dry leaves,
Have calmed down,
To merely a whisper,
Of their full strength.

The crushing winter cold,
Has set in so silently,
It was hard to find,
In the midst of swirling leaves,
Until suddenly it was there,
And could not be ignored,
As the snowflakes,
Softly touched the ground.

The seasons change,
With time, unbound,
Yet always coming and going,
Always giving and taking,
From the heart and soul,
From the thoughts of our mind,
Until nothing is left but to wonder,
Why they even exist.

When stars light up the sky,
And the child gives out a sigh,
What more can we do,
But ponder.

As the chill touches our heart,
And melts in our hands,
Until the frigid cold,
Touches our very soul,
Leaving behind a mark,
Shining through the dark,
Reminding us always,
There is light at the end of the tunnel,
There is always a new dawn,
Spring is not far off,
And there is beauty in every storm.


No, I cannot tell you,
What it is that I feel,
For I feel so much,
Yet so little,
There is not much that I do keep.
Yet when I look into the darkness,
All I see is a flash of light,
And I wonder just maybe,
Because you always make me smile.



Once upon a time, before ever I was born,

you were erected a little after 1971.

Brick and morter, cement and wood,

until one day there you stood,

13 buildings are lucky if an architect is in a good mood.

200 apartments that were state of the art back in the days when Nixon was not a crook,

splash in a pool built in the days before diving boards were took.

Snack bar, volley ball, n’ tennis,

Sit on your terrace without  fearing a menace.

But that was in 1972,

now the owners don’t know what to do.

Buildings age, wood rots,

but the staff cares not a lot.

One lives here because the rent is cheap,

lucky you if you don’t meet up with one of your creeps.

A Mexican man who spills his beer can down from his balcony,

A drag queen who owes me money,

Wife beaters and folks who can’t read,

a friendly ‘ex-rapist,’

drug dealers who meet the people’s need.

Some people have killed themselves here instead,

Guess it’s cheaper than moving,

but you don’t fill me with that kind of dread.

Apartment  complex of mine, I love you and hate you at the same time.

When I first saw you I knew you were just right  for me.

Unlike the house we had owned, no rats in the attic roamed.

The terrace was enough outdoor space without a lawn to mow.

Finally a pool within 50 feet of me not made of plastic, you know?

and a  few nice neighbors to balance  the plethora of trash,

no one’s  too nosy, they let us do what we wish without being rash,

my hoarding* or Mom’s gardening,

letting our cats roam ,

this is the perfect place for eccentrics  to  have friends but be left sometimes alone.

Apartment Complex, intellectual purgatory, I call you home.




I clench my fists tightly, little white half-crescent moons forming

on my palm, imprints from my sharp fingernails.

The house is filled with the aroma of stuffing

and a 20 pound turkey

And apple pie (sprinkled with cinnamon).

All the good stuff,

Just like every year.

Mom bustles around

Cathy flits from the kitchen to her bedroom like a

curious butterfly.

Anthony is drawn to the tantalizing smell of

warmth and celebration.

And I? I remain in my room all day

Gloom, dark, despair

settles around me like the new, thick, duck-down quilt

Grandma bought for me.

As always, I am the third wheel

The party pooper

The spoilsport

All my friend are online

But I don’t want to chat.

Thanksgiving dinner

Friends and friends of friends sit around the dining table

which groans from the weight of platters and mom’s best silverware.

Meat glistens with grease, cranberry jelly jiggles in the glass bowl.

“Shall we say thanks?” offers my mom,

wiping her hands on her apron,

and I see she is wearing her old diamond earrings from the Before Alex days, the days of gold and foreshadowing.

As the generous hostess she is, she gives the honor of being the first

to the guest on her right–Maggie or Mandy or whatever.

I pay no attention, though certain phrases I snatch from the conversation–

“…thankful for John, for God, for food, for shelter…”

“…my Nintendo DS, my laptop, my friends…”

“…for being the valedictorian and for Katie…”

I spit contemptuously–how cliche their responses are!

I’ve heard them repeated every year

and year and year since.

A gentle tapping on a wineglass, and my mother says softly,

“Krystal, would you like to share?”

What’s to give thanks for, she means.

Be polite, she means.

Don’t ruin her rep or her child-upbringing, she means.

I open my mouth but the words quiver

and tremble and falter on the tip of my tongue.

Guests exchange glances–how subtle, they think.

But they think I don’t know?

The weird girl, as I’m known.

The shadow. Emo. Depressed.

My mental health is questioned

As the air turns to ice with the tense silence

My mother, an experienced ice-skater who turns graceful figure eights

And glides around the rink,

Knows better than to risk thin ice,

But in this case, she raises a blade

And stabs the frozen air with it.

“Um, let’s begin eating,” she pushes a strand of perfectly permed blonde hair behind her ear.

I am stunned into refusing the bowl of mashed potatoes with gravy that comes around.

What am I thankful for?

My dry wit has gotten me into trouble a  good many times,

But in this case, it’s not humor or sarcasm.

It’s the truth.

I’m thankful that my dad was killed in a freak car accident

So he didn’t have to feel the pain of my mother’s affair.

I’m thankful that my mom didn’t invite darling Alex over

So he wouldn’t have to feel the pain of my fists.

I’m thankful that my mom is tactical enough

To not mention Cathy’s abortion.

I’m thankful that my brother is smart enough

To not mention that he smokes.

“Why don’t you eat, Krystal?” It’s my mother again

Nag, nag, nag

Smiling her perfect, lipsticked smile

Immaculate rows of pearly white teeth grinning at me

Like a shark’s.

I can’t take it any longer.

I hate this.

I hate my mom.

I hate my life.

But I hate me even more for being who I am–

bitter, angry, a terrible person for thinking such black thoughts.

I stand up, fling my carving knife into the lacy white tablecloth

and it stands upright in the wood beneath.

“You know what I’m thankful for?” I snarl at my mom who has gone white,

Even through the supposed ‘light blush’ she applied on her cheeks.

“I’m thankful that I got to know my dad, who is all I have to love.”

“I’m thankful that I have friends who at least do a better job of pretending to care

than you do.”

“I’m thankful that eighteen is only four years away,

and then I won’t have to stay in this cursed dwelling anymore.”

The guests gape, unused to my outburst

What, did they think I was an emotionless brick wall?

I laugh at the thought.

Perhaps, for the first time, Thanksgiving will be a silent affair

As I escape to my room–not by my mother’s death glare,

but by my own choice–

I wonder if today is really Thanksgiving.

For what is Thanksgiving,

when there are no thanks to give?



She stood there with a smirk
Cigarette dangling from her lips
Cold, steely gaze set on mine
Her hair dangled over her face
Ruffled from a night of anticipation

She stood there with a knife
In her delicate hand of love
Sheer negligee showing contours
Of carnal lust, adoring motherhood
Never caring what I thought of it

She stood there with a tear
Running down her flushed cheek
Saying something I never expected
“I don’t feel sorry for causing you pain”
The slow trickle of gore down the blade

She stood there waiting for me
To slowly fade into nothingness
Love already shown by the agony
Of Death’s sweet chains of release
She is my sexy psychotic



Whilst stand among the brilliant yellow canola as it did its wind driven dance,

off in the horizon I happen’d to glance

and I saw the outline of another quite by chance.

She beckon’d me a hither

Upon a milk’d hued morn with not a voice but the merest of gesture

With an effort great did I my ego bolster,

shoving aside questionable character lack into a bolt’d hoslter.

Instinct not reason lead my feet to act

While thine head caution’d to hold fast for once begun it could not retract

Yet a slight aromatic tinge breezed for unreason’d attract.

Across stride by stride did I stutter through the canola’d dew

The moisture drips along my waist their mark did they strew

Closer follow’d by closer still her features sharpened bidding attention to all around her and I adieu

Visual’d query of whom my body selfishly moved to such proximate sight

garner’d she wore dress long, sleeved in radiant white

roundness of face that one could tell was middled to thirty to forty years of delight

Tantalized was I as brunette hair surround’d by dull mist whimsically within curled

Twas surely a woman who o’ershadow’d all else in the world

One last footfall brought our distance to inconsequential measure,

the cream’d texture of her flesh harken’d innerly hedonistic images of pleasure,

yet hurry’d her demeanor suggest even lightning spark would ignite in slowed pressure.

I stood beside the very icon of night-wett’d whimsical dreamt pick

attempting to sound for me a very most unnatural slick

(and praying to draw her attention away from my double cowlick)

“I have a notion that to this ye are aware

But I can not but sayeth that doth are spectacularly on the shade of fair”

She gave naught but a muted giggle

And perhaps my eyes deceived but a hint of a plump’d bosom’d wiggle

Shuffled a foot did I then the other,

mayhaps my speak to her was auditory smother

To look upon her face caused for sweat my thin’d bangs to soak

No words were longer past yet volumes to me she spoke

Flaming a fire that an ere day did not even produce a wisp of smoke

Stymy’d twas I

for though nary a note had passed through those pull lips nor even a try

yet  the sweetest of song echoed within the ears of my

And whence tips of her fingers float’d upon thine arm out

from thine crack’d lips released a sedated sigh

Could it be that I was asleep fast?

Perhaps a trickery of mind of what I avoid’d times past?

Or meeting a perfect that upon norm would unbelieve – be aghast?

Less the never t’whether imagine or real

Long’d did I to once again something feel

Nestled content upon my o’er dued lap

Ere a maggot’d feast partake of this chap

Bodily dead in a wooden box’d trap

Off afar did moo an unseen bovine

To continue monlogued conversation I did thus give an opine

Perhaps if to you it would see fit to incline

To meet to have a nibble with coffee or even a long dine?

Her eyelids gave a gentile flutter

Which made weak my knees like a summer day’s pat of butter

Yet not a sound emerged again to which I could reply with stutter

For with each muscle she did twitch

It unlock’d yet another hidden wanting switch

The golden solar orb shatter’d moist shelter’d room of outdoors,

the image surround undisolved to clarity misdirected of previous afores

Vivacity of future evaportated with perspire from ope’d pores

as I realized that dissipated was the mist

but the solidity of my new intrigued passion de-insist to exist

Come hath five falls

As yet another doth calls

Each milk’d morn I attend to that field

Where my wound’d heart momentarily heal’d

In hopes that forever it could be given away seal’d



The path of your ignorance
Sitting in my corner
Mindful no more
Enthralled in my own discovery
At peace with whom I’ve become

Then came you
Quite beseeching

Lost in your pain of being found
Lacking in whom you knew yourself to be
Redemption you seek
The one I already found

I take your call
Sadly not yet ready
Still lost in whom you knew you to be
Yearning for the one you wish to exhibit

I hear your pain
I sense your tears
Swallowed in your arrogance and your jokes
The ones you wish to bury deep inside of she, she and she

I let go on the path of your ignorance
Myself to lose
I let go


We have to take the power back
Lay off the crack
Keep on track
This shit is wack
Nothing but a nymphomaniac
Turning us into a paranoiac
Into an insomniac
He’s become a megalomaniac
We have to take the power back
Don’t let this be a setback
I’ve had enough of your playback
No longer want your feedback
This might turn into an attack
We have to take the power back
Never drawback
Never cutback
We have to take the power back
From all nymphomaniac(s)



My heart has no meter; no why, no when—
Mourning won’t follow one will or way;
They say someday I’ll learn to live again.

They send me pretty cards, their names in pen,
No one has answers or knows what to say.
Tell me, does the pain subside? Tell me, when?

No rules, I am told; no one through to ten.
Does the pain ease a little every day?
They say someday I’ll learn to live again.

The seasons shift; I’m not ready for them,
But I long to laugh like a child at play;
Tell me, does the pain subside? Tell me, when?

A hermit with my heart; a bear in my den,
I’ll sleep all day; I’ll hide this pain away—
They say someday I’ll learn to live again.

Spring will renew, breath of summer, and then
Winter blows in with its shadows blue-gray.
My heart has no meter; this love has no end—
They say someday I’ll learn to love again.


Sam 373:

Sun hot against my face;

Moon gives off its own kind of heat:

Breezes leave more often than they come-

Non Semper Eril Restas.

The fan blows my sweat into rolls

While mama in the kitchen

Baking bread on the table.

Outside, the sky is black

Hell’s kitchen windows are closed.

Sun hot against my face;

Moon gives off its own kind of heat:

Breezes leave more often than they come-

Non Semper Eril Restas.

The fan blows my sweat into rolls

While mama in the kitchen

Baking bread on the table.

Outside, the sky is black

Hell’s kitchen windows are closed.

Non Semper Eril Restas.

Showers are taken in the street

A little more cold water, hold the heat.

Highways are buckling beneath my feet,

Black stuff from volcanoes

Take the place of streets.

Rain evaporates before hitting the ground;

Unattended Baby in a bathtub


While unwed mother in the next room

Fucking a clown-

Non Semper Eril Restas.

Unclothed ugliness on the rooftop Sheds gown;

Forcing even the sun to finally fall down.

Wayward unyielding children

Chill-n in the all-night playground;

Watch in prophetic horror their precursor

In a red sea drown-

Non Semper Eril Restas.

Grass growing green-

Flowers blooming bright-

Trees grow so tall-

Birds soar

To miraculous heights.

Stars seem their brightest-

Love seems to last forever

While time virtually stands still-

Happiness should never have cause to end,

Yet it does . . .

Non Semper Eril Restas

(Summer Won’t Last Forever)


Fearless Dreams:

Who cares what tomorrow holds

I’m still trying to grasp today

They say time flows like a river flows

I treasure every drop

It brings my way

Who knows how long the sun’ll shine

How long the blinding night will stay

As long as I feel you here and mine

I’ll be shining to greet whatever may

Who dares to walk the cold

Only souls who bared the gray

They say time ticks slow, slow and old

When the peace starts to sail and sway

But with your hand in mine we’re stuck on hold

I’d give everything to leave us this way


Who knows how long the sun’ll shine

How long the blinding night will stay

As long as I feel you here and mine

I’ll be shining to greet whatever may

So whether you love me or love me not

whether I’m in for the rain

Don’t wait till you’re left with all I got

Make a prayer and tell me




Sharp winter chill
(not autumn)

Brilliant sun,
cloudless sky,
crisp grass.

Warm air
escaping lungs
like body-cloud.

Toasty thoughts

Counting blessings,
assuaging guilt:
so many

circling hot coffee cup,
fogs inside.

intense fall color:
dance with me,
with life–
celebrate gifts.

Spirit calls:
give back.




with the blowing winds


amazement excitement


I am partnered with the winds


unfolds life begins


designs delicate lines


gliding dance entwined


closely we touch gentle clutch


two peasant dancers instinctive

The sky

is our ballroom as we prance


began a 2 beat measure with delight and pleasure


drifting spinning with the delight of many


like a spinning penny


we began I bow to my partner as we part

I know

as sure as this snowfall


will not be my last curtain call

Another day

will come

A lone snowflake

Will partner with winds, a new waltz begins



Air filling expanding my lungs

inflating my muscles

stretching my toes

quickening my mind

clarifying my vision

into colors that quench my thirst

for the something more

where imagination meets creation

where love erupts intelligence’s passion

my spirit is ALIVE

My heart pumps out not blood, but






Oh, dear screen
Not a big grin
I’m screaming
Stop teasing

No words to rhyme
I’m out of time
What to write?
Nothing and I hide

I have no line
I’m not fine
This not a lie
Sorry if it’s a crime


The Street Lamp:

The train stole her.

It was a winter dawn that felt like a frosty evening.

Snow drifted towards the ground like flower petals.

He was in his thick army jacket.

She looked like a bandit, with a dandelion scarf bundled around her face.

He attempted to stuff another dollar into her pockets.

She promised to buy him the latest novels, a new coffee mug, and

maybe some tea.

The train tracks whispered.

The watch hands crawled past seven

And reflected onto their faces pale sunlight.

A streetlamp droned above them.

Then it fizzed out, showering them in snowflakes and sparks.

She caught a snowflake on her tongue, going cross-eyed.

He smiled.

Crystals melted on her tongue with a hiss.

A pale red train creaked into the station.

She made a dash for the door.

The conductor made a beeline toward the coffeeshop.

He hollered at the conductor, waving his arms angrily.

She picked herself off the ground.

Streetlights in the distance died.

She tugged at his cheeks in the dark.

Her breath swirled with chill, mingling with his.

He smelled like drugstore cologne, lemons, and gasoline.

The red train zipped over the horizon and fell.

They reveled in the silence, but for the

twittering of sparrows.

An old man sprinkled sesame across the snow.

She clapped for the moment and pulled out her camera.

He wanted a postcard, he asked for one.

She opened her mouth to speak.

The train shot past on the tracks,

Squealed to a stop.

The crows came, Scared the songbirds away.

She tucked her faux leather purse

behind her shoulders.

He hauled her suitcases into the train.

His arms burned with effort.

Her cheeks burned with cold.

The train stole her away.

He slept in the snow, his jacket was a cushion.

A wet nose smeared his face, his chapped lips.

She peeked out of the window.

The train plunged into the morning,

Steam snaking through the watercolor sky.



Beneath this crumbling headstone,
entangled in deep roots, are bones
of a life it once knew;
forgotten in this concrete jungle.
It is unknown.

It is giant, it is wise, it is ancient;
twisted and gnarly limbs search for the sun.
Although these branches loom above always –
clawing for the clouds to bring down rain –
it is a ghost.

But still it grows,
grasping for the warmth, the sunlight,
it knows lies above.
And so great it has become:
the invisible tower.

Longer it has known these grounds –
from above and below –
than we have walked this earth at all.
We know nothing of its past endured,
yet still, it is reaching.


There once were a sir bear named Funny,
and a lady bear named Bunny,
They got married
without feeling hurried.
They laughed and hopped
until their heartbeats stopped.
Funny loved Bunny,
Bunny cherished Funny.
They called each other Honey,
And they looked absolutely darling.