Fuck you for ruining me,

for giving me a completely unrealistic

expectation of what relationships should be.

Fuck you for seeing stars in my eyes,

and the moon in Venus.

Fuck you for making me your opium,

coming daily, like a true addict,

spending hours getting your fix,

feeding off and draining me completely

Fuck you for being a coward,

for lacking the ability to let go of fear

Fuck you for taking my soul

with your mouth, your words,

your kiss, your taste-

fresca and marlboro reds

Fuck you for not keeping this love sacred,

forsaking all else,for not accepting our gift

with tears of gratitude and mercy

Fuck you for not letting go-

for holding every word, card, letter

captive

under wide plank floorboards

in the farmhouse we dreamed eternity in

Fuck you for being crystal clear in my vision-

past and present

so much so that every new relationship,

every change,

brings me full circle once more.

Fuck you for not asking permission

to hold my heart-

in your eyes, your hands,

your voice, your mouth.

Fuck you for rising to the challenge-

for loving me with equal

intensity and passion

Yes, fuck you.

But most of all,

fuck you for loving me enough

to walk

away.

A quote

"As long as a word remains unspoken, you are its master; once you utter it, you are its slave" Ibn Gabirol (Solomon Ben Judah) (c.1021-c.1058), Spain.

The Opening

In this sacred space
your voice,
calm and wise
transported by a breeze,
infiltrates my thoughts.

I feel your soul
align with mine
and answers
are revealed

~Everyone is afraid~

there is fear enough in this world,
but, to love in the face of fear,
despite the obstacles,
come what may,
is the greatest gift our hearts will know

To open hands,
allowing love to land,
rest,
knowing the slightest breeze
could carry it away,
is strength unmatched

to love in the
middle of a
storm of vulnerability
is true beauty

in this spirit,
giving freely,
without expectations
I open to you....

I open because:
"I want to unfold
nowhere do I want to remain folded,
because where I am bent and folded,
there I am a lie
and I want my meaning true for you"

There are no happy endings
in sight
pain is
a certainty...
but possibility
outweighs fear and risk

I don't want to give up a chance
so precious and rare
to intimately know you...

heart, mind, body
long to become
inextricably
tangled up in you...

knowing in the midst
of chaos
beauty is born.

I want this season of emptiness
to come to an end.

I want to write the stanzas
of your luminous soul
and illustrate your
meaning.

I want to be
the mirror
which reflects
the majestic wonder
that is you.

You, with the sparks in your eyes-
daring me to gaze
my facade crumbling...
daring me not to fall

You, who speaks this
foreign language
of my soul
so fluently...

I fail miserably.

I just can't figure out
how to not love you.

So, it begins...
this pilgrimage
to unknown territory

the journey I knew would come..
arriving in the midst
of a thousand star-kissed
raindrops

showering me with Hope,
giving shelter in the arms of the storm,
birthing possibilities....

I offer my hand,
ready for you
to lead us
through these
foreign lands.





*Italicized text from Rilke's 'I am much too alone in this world..'

Improbable Odds

You've been caught
in the game
so long now,
pushing memories aside..
forcing amnesia

With steel blue eyes
you scan the crowd--

48 pairs of legs
a dozen heart-shaped asses
twenty silicon filled breasts
5 who have viable grey matter--

none with viable hearts.

I stand outside
in cloak of night
riddled with imperfections
peering through the
smudged pain,
watching as the wheels
of a beautiful mind spin

My heart captures the moment
with crystal clarity
I open,
as a dozen fireflies escape
glowing brightly,
my hiding place exposed,

you glance towards the window
our eyes meet,
hold...............

a sigh escapes your lips,
you turn away
making your choice--
a blonde towards the front

you mentally calculate...
"4 out of 5 ain't bad"

I close my shutters,
fireflies scatter
and I walk into
darkness once more.

Words for an angry young man...

My license says that
I'm an organ donor
you know...
if I could heal you
by giving you an organ
I would.
But what torments you
is not so easily cured
cannot cut
and stitch you back up.

I am truly sorry-
that life isn't fair,
or simple,
or black and white
or everything that you
long for.
It just isn't
and never will be.

If I had the skills of a surgeon
and could heal you
by swapping out the
dis-eased
I'd start with your heart.
It's the most battered,
worn out..
there's a lot of scar
tissue
deep wounds
that never properly
healed.

Ragged edges of
puckered flesh.
It's ready to stop
fighting.

just
give
up.

I offer:

-a new heart
for you

child-like it has yet
to know pain-
has no scars
all it has known
is unconditional love.

Take it, trust it,
learn to listen to it.
Nurture it.

I offer:

-new ears
so that you may
listen.
Truly hear what others
are saying
rather than
those angry
voices tormenting
inside
your head.

Maybe you will
finally be able
to hear me
and the others
who
love you.

I offer:

-A pair of eyes
so you may stop
looking for faults
in those around you-
the faults
will always be there
in all of us...
as will the ugliness
of this world

but with fresh
eyes may you
see beauty
exists
alongside
pain and sorrow.

See the grey hues
not only
black & white
see vermillion
chartreuse
lilac
celadon
saffron
along with
red, green,purple,
blue
and yellow.



I've been cut out
of your life
like a cancerous
growth
the
biopsy results are in :
benign..



Your reasons were clear,
fears unfounded,
claims unfair.

I cannot remain
passive
when under fire.

Fight or flight
response kicks in
I defend my
heart,
my soul,
my words,
my thoughts.

Sometimes harsh words
are needed-
I don't make apologies
for them.

I can only apologize
for your pain
and hope
that through it
you will learn to fly
again..

that the little boy
who loved his Nana
who loved without
terms and conditions
without expectations
who had peace
will return.

I'm not a surgeon
I don't cut,
Not even when
the growths are cancerous.

Once my heart opens
in friendship
the door stays
open
a lifetime.

This earth mother
will be here
offering what
she can
should you ever
have a need.

~blessed be~

Woken from a dream

Dreaming in poetry
thoughts of you
never have I
hated words so much

Pontification of Pinter

Pinter would be proud;
these moments straight out of
act two, scene five.

We've mastered both silences
spoken, unspoken
one in the same.

140 betrayals
224 homecomings
amount to little more
than an hour
in our lives.

I've painted the walls rust
aqua
royal blue
never green..

black and white silence
amplified
each p a u s e
pregnant
but in the end
papercuts
still b
l
e
e
d
all over the page

you,
me,
her,
him,
them,
all of
us
Ashes to Ashes...

Moonlight brings
a remembrance of things past,
slight ache
then silence.

tenacious lilacs,
rare in these parts
tremble in the gentle breeze,
shed twinkling drops of dew
with stern precision

solitary moon,
scatters light
over spineless hypocrisy
of oppressed legions,
winking starlight
lies

Replication

If we continue to take and take and take
all that is not ours to give
surely, we rob the dawn
of her splendor
raped and pillaged by calloused
greedy hands

Nay, I say to you
'tis better to be infinitely patient
for she will rise
after darkest decline

So take your hands and
shield your eyes
she will arrive slowly

as you stare
brazenly
she will emerge
in brilliance
brighter than all the weeping stars united

A singular face more exquisite
than any you have dreamt of
you will reach out with trembling hands,
but you must be open, transparent
only then will you be able to touch,
and hold
a shooting star

As you feel her seeping into your veins
take flight,
soar to the heavens
break through
with sustained song

descend
set the axis spinning
become dizzy with beauty,
knowledge
compassion
Blaze brightly, unafraid
so that others may see, hear,
intimately know.

At last, when your fingertips have blistered,
release your tenuous grasp
watch with wonder as beauty explodes
replicating ad infinitum

only then, will you truly know love.

Lilly

I started my day in blackness
rain bathing me in its
devious promise of renewal

The earth felt solid
under my feet
as I walked down the hill
I remember this clearly
thinking it quite odd
considering the weather.

my daughter and I
walked hand in hand
scurrying along
to the bus stop
when we heard her scream.

Mommy! Mommy! He hit Lilly!

I felt my daughter clasp my hand tighter
and gave her a little squeeze.

The acid in my stomach began to
swirl as I quickly assessed the damage.

The truck never stopped.
Didn't even tap the brakes.
She never had a chance.

Lilly lay in the road
her body spinning around
violently
as she circled consciousness.

we hovered.

horrified,
yet unable to look away.

Within moments
her small body
gave up the fight,
went limp.

rain washed away
grief stained faces
makeup smeared.

The school bus came
a moment later.

I gave my daughter an extra hug,
Julia choked out a goodbye..
to both her mom
and Lilly
who we had placed on the grass
momentarily.

Lilly's beautiful fur coat
now slick with rain,
blood seeping from her mouth.

as the bus drove away
the headlights caught Lilly's eyes--
The rain has never been so cold.

Autopsy

I don't understand
how two people who love each other
can be so cruel.
no crime has been committed.
no harm, no foul..
yet, damage has been done.

Change.
something we hear a lot of these days.
everyone is pressing for change.
but so many aren't truly ready for it.
so many will not actively seek it.
I, myself,
not above reproach.

'Nothing ever changes'
What change do you want exactly?
if you don't know
how can you expect me
to fix things?
It isn't my responsibility alone,
you see...

this thing,
this problem
is beyond
he said/she said

we've been stuck in crisis mode
with no real end in sight

hope has become
a 4-letter word
we dare not speak.

Sure, there have been improvements.
we don't have heads
shattering glass windows...

there's much less shit on the floor
to clean up..

I haven't had to run uphill
after a naked little boy
in months…

praying for my legs to move faster
(Dear God, please let me catch him)
pleading that no cars would appear.
(Dear God, please keep my baby boy safe.)



I haven't bartered with God
(or whomever isn't listening)
for months now.
truth is I'm angry..
this Welsh blood courses through
my veins..

veins which sometimes
seem to ache
pleading to bleed.

I won't let go.
Not without a fight.

But this bullshit...
these 'fights'
repeated again.
And again…

I'm tired of it.
I simply don't have the energy anymore.

You're right when you say that
nothing changes.

You say, 'Maybe I have too many people to take care of'
'too many things to take care of'

Don't you think I've felt that way??


My reply without missing a beat:
'maybe you do. Maybe you need to get rid of some of them'
(leaving the choice of which ones up to you)


The only hesitation was that noise you make
in the back of your throat..
a sarcastic gurgle escaping,
before you replied,
'maybe I should'

I'm giving you an out.

Being a good man
does not always mean
‘till death do us part’
Consider yourself free.

I won’t consider you a failure,
It will just be an affirmation
that life isn’t fair
and will never be easy.

Though,
deep down,
I know you won’t be the one to
walk away.

You’re waiting for me to open that door
Pushing me towards it
Pulling me back.

When does love alone
cease to be enough?

I wouldn’t blame you
(okay, only a little)
If you walked away..
I never expected to be
so broken.

I didn't know I was going
to fall so completely in love
with blond baby curls
rosy cheeks,
tiny fingers clasping my hand
so tightly

I didn't know he would fit so perfectly
in my arms,
that holding him
would melt every stress away

I didn’t know
that I would feel a serenity and peace
I had never experienced before,
the cord connecting us
pulsing blood
two lives as one.
no cutting can ever
destroy that bond.
it only becomes stronger
with the passage of time.

I didn't know how easily
that false sense of security
could be snatched away.

I thought losing my mother
as a little girl
was the hardest thing I would ever
have to endure.

It’s funny how life works.

Through becoming a mother myself,
I realized how much she must have
suffered.

Not just from the chemo,
the biopsies,
the tracheotomy
but from being helpless,
trapped in a body that betrayed her.

Seeing her children scared,
confused,
being unable to comfort them,
scarcely strong enough to lift her arms
off of the bed
for our bodies to fold into hers.

Her sweet honesty perfume
replaced by metallic, medicinal smells.
Still we breathed her in,
afraid we'd forget one day what she smelled like.
(we did.)

Helpless.

I understand now.
As I watch my son
scream out in pain.
phantom pain that has no name--
(some call it Autism)
no words are spoken.

Helpless.

As I desperately play
the guessing game..
Is it his tummy?
Is he hungry?
Does his throat hurt?
Is he scared?

I’m scared.

I’m scared to jump.

Equally scared that
standing still
will be certain death.

The painful truth baby,
is that I can’t be everything
you need,
but you are so wrong
in saying I don’t try.
I have never tried so hard
in my life.

In your heart
you know that isn’t true,
just more words
spoken to anger, hurt..

I don’t want to be angry anymore,
at least not with you.
‘god’
is probably better equipped
to handle it anyway.

I’m still ‘just a girl standing in front of a boy…’
But my back is breaking,
my feet are calloused
my shoulders weak.
I’m standing strong
but not resigned,
not unmovable.

Where are you?

A floor below.
Separate bed.

Hmmm...
What was that you were saying
about change?

Calico Rose

Calico Rose, I have watched you from afar
dancing in your garden
by torchlight and watchful gaze
of marmalade sky

I have seen you under desert willow
in scornful heat of sun
weaving baskets,
wearing the dress you fashioned
from fabric you bartered for in Santa Fe

Misshapen straw hat shielding your face
sipping frozen margaritas
while you hum a tune from years gone by

Bare feet connect with dusty earth
keeping you grounded in present reality
while tonight you dream
of Picasso's Blues.

Blackout 1.1

Blackout 1.1~writing exercise

Merchant's House,
East Village
1933

Shaking violently,
night spirits,
bizarre happenings;
some say they never
left.

Small children,
bald, tattooed.
Marshmallow Man
frustrated patriarch
died,
stuck around for
Gertrude.
Stayed until her death,
searching for spirits.

One if by land,
two if by sea
hungry man
unpacked his equipment,
temperature cold.
Fisherman gets
skunked.

Heavy red curtains,
eighty-one degrees
in Mrs. Tredwell's bedroom
white marble shadows,
haunted Voice~
no reply.

Two mannequins
bald, yellowed
make a noise,
move the chandelier.

Shuffle dismissed
haunted obsessively,
static
forever.

Mockingbird

On the parlour steps in Virginia
a coalition forms
public outcry
insincere rage
guilt of doing nothing.

Ghosts of the girls
haunt the gravedigger
Mary, seven
Shelby Lynne, three.

He sees them clearly
laughing out loud
somersaulting
across California
fields.

Magnetic skinny love
Willie Rathbone
could not resist
took them swimming,
pools of blood
stain porous tile,
forever tainting memories.

Mockingbird
sings, out of time,
broken songs
in shame.

Dug out of the archives...

...just an old letter..unsent.

Dear....
I hide these feelings well, but that's only because distance allows me to remain shrouded whether in rain, darkness or light. Distance creates a pretense of safety. I look at you from afar with eyes wide shut, wanting to see so much more, yet afraid of needing too much. Toe to toe, fingertip to fingertip, eye to eye my disguise is shattered. Only behind this screen can I effectively hide. Light emitted diodes do not reflect back to you the yearning in my eyes. You cannot see my face lights up as you skate across my mind.

In the real world my disguise would be as thin as the soap bubble that alights upon my skin before bursting into a smattering of slimy wetness. I desperately try to scrub away the filthy residue of thoughts that have stained my flesh,but to no avail. The steam does it's best to cover, but it cannot conceal sound, earnest moans give away inner dialogue.

The pain I bear in keeping my silence is not allowing myself a chance . I write you of my passion rather than tell you. I don't allow myself the freedom of thinking that you could possibly be intrigued, much less have actual emotions. You began as needlepoint to my heart precise in your pinpricks, weaving in and out of my life.. as time passes the stitches so carefully contructed begin to unravel and you strip away more and more, leaving me feeling naked.

These are the thoughts that careen off the rails of mind onto the page, leaving me completely wrecked at the thought of admission. The cost, a penny in the wishing well, another for your thoughts...

Till next time....
I remain,
invisible.

I have nothing left to give,
you have sucked me
bone dry.

Shoo, fly
don't bother me.

For I belong to
nobody.

If all these unspoken words
are uttered
they merely become
broken dreams
which shatter at
your feet.

Not really a haiku, haiku.

Motherless daughter

stumbles through adolescence

rises from ashes

Empty quills, unsung songs

A friend of mine posted a poetry challenge. These were the rules:

You must use at least 5 of the 10 words from the following list, but if you only use 5, your poem cannot exceed 50 total words. If you use all 10, I'm generously giving you a maximum of 75 words for your poem. Post your finished product or cuss me out for this silly exercise. Regardless, here is the list followed by the poem that I came up with. Hope you enjoy writing, reading, either or both.

THE WORDS: interpret, bargain, consider, apathy, dusk,
deny, shatter, specific, anticipate and porcelain.



"Empty quills, unsung songs"

I consider your apathy a bargain


in exchange for hollow words,


empty promises.


Your silence simplifies,


what remains unspoken


is easy to interpret.



Deny me a choice


my words are paper airplanes,


perpetually ineffectual


in ability to reach the intended target.



Porcelain skin


remains uncovered


as dusk envelops my soul.


Nights fragrant song


cries out a thousand miles away.



Morning comes


s h a t t e r s dreams


so eagerly anticipated


yet specific to no one.

Exit Wound

thoughts
s-p-l-a-t-t-e-r
across
this
page.
shoot
me
now~
please.
Do it
right.
Make sure
there's an
e x i t
wound
so these
thoughts
can
s l o w l y

b
l
e
e
d

a c r o s s

the

page.

Letter to No One~Part Two

Man, I've got words
coming out my ears
and still nothing to write.
Some things only music
can decipher.
Words after all,
are just letters on a page,
strung-together
much like you were
strung out
hung out
dried out
burned out.

God I hate this shit.
Get your self righteous finger
out of me
knuckle deep
in accusations
it was you,
not I
who left
you,
who could
never silence
the fear within

I get it,
really, I do..
I was young,
a hot piece
of ass.
What??
We both know
it's true.
I could hang
with the boys,
get that creativity
flowing..
I was your drug
of choice
when nothing else
would do.

The moment we met
we entered into
a force field
which no one
could penetrate.
Long before
our lips
demolished doubt
our faces held the
truth
words stolen
before we had
a chance
to speak.

Breathless
you moved me
with one look,
one innocent touch,
fingertips
brushing an arm,
tapping out a rhythm
on bare kneecaps.
For months
we made love
without touching,
without speaking
dancing,
pas de deux
with eyes alone.

Mid-July a heatwave
rolled in
and the gang
rolled out
bare skin
stuck to
leather seats
of battered
trucks,
arms snared
around waists
'canyon carving'
along river road
anxious to
quench our thirst.

Transient Journey

Journey begins

attraction consumes

rainstorm dancing on plains

exhillirating high leads to a kiss, then,

danger.

Unexpected, slightly disturbing blog.

Sometimes the blackness comes
and all we want to do
is dig deeply into it
don't want to see the sun,
hear the sparrows
just want to get lost in darkness
sometimes it's just too hard to live.
the will is gone
lie with hands stretched out
nothing to grasp onto
will anyone see into the hole
find a way into the tunnel
where you are buried?
the timing is always off
you can't quite get out
but can't quite find
the end
stuck in the middle
no light from either side
feeling your way through
the darkness
finding only walls
there's nobody home
you can hear voices
people laughing
living
somewhere
but you can't quite get there
every once in awhile
a voice comes through
you hear it crystal clear
then as quickly as it came
it fades away
and silence remains
sometimes the silence is
so loud
it's deafening
you want to claw your eyes out
rip your heart out
because you're dying with the silence
it's too much to bear
you wish you could just
bang your head on the concrete
watch the blood trickle out of your skull
but somehow everytime you try to do that
you just wind up with a big fat headache
drinking too much wine
writing crappy poetry
no one will try to understand
so you stop.
and once again...
the will is lost.

Always, All-ways

I will let you roll off my back
like so many soiled dreams
before
I do not need anything you offer
whether liquid-filled paper cups
or 15 second sound bytes
I refuse to feed the hunger
knowing too well
phantom pains and lies.
Emptiness is less palatible
but much easier to swallow
than saccharine half truths
told under a paper moon
I will give up this hunger,
without sacrificing thoughts of you~
who taught me how to feel,
every ounce of blood I shed,
every bitter tear of defeat,
every breath of agony.
How could I possibly forget you,
who taught me to dream
in
technicolor
of
tangerine lips
wildflower honey
independence
these
nothern light
dreams
of aborted songs
and perfected touch
You,
who told me
cages have keys
bars fade with memory
tomorrow is only sky,
and the wind can reach the ocean
but not in stillness.
I can starve off this hunger,
but never thoughts of you,
who above all else
taught me that
always,
all-ways,
there is love.
Inside of you
and surrounding you
whether you can feel it
or not.
There is love.

(this meesage is for you as much as me.)

Elegy of Time

Love will never be enough
the whale has swallowed
love whole
while the ocean weeps
and earth tries to count the tears
love dies off
like everything else
slowly, painfully
never of natural causes
living become dead
Ashes scatter
winds cease

((hearts break))


willows weep in agreement

it is time.

say goodbye...

~goodbye~

Words for a friend

Author Notes:
These words came to me in the middle of the night..and I felt compelled to write them down. There is someone reading who must relate, because the urge to write them was so powerful, I felt I was being led to say this. Not the most eloquent, but I think it's a message that needed to be said.



I see you...
where the world looks
with intellect,
trying to decode,
I see you simply..
with my heart.
I know the pain
you try to silence
by not speaking.
I hear it in between
casual dialogue
read it in between the lines.
Your silence doesn't drown
out the screams,
your vow doesn't stop
the movie from playing
over and over
behind closed eyes.

I see you...
a little boy, lurking in shadows
afraid to be seen,
terrified to be heard.
I know you...
the pain you carry defies words
things they wouldn't (and didn't) believe
when you told them
happen just the same
just another day in
My-town, Your-town, USA.

I'm not sure what my purpose is here
other than to offer my friendship,
tell you that it's okay.
It's okay to want to hide,
even after all these years.
We're all hiding something,
everyone has pain or hunger
that just can't quite be put to rest.

Just don't hide so much
that the essence of 'You' is lost.
Because then you push others away
and they never get to know all the amazing
yet complex layers and facets of your personality.
Make the future memories which you hold onto,
dream big and make life happen
here and now.

If you do this,
the ghosts won't completely disappear,
but over time, they will learn
to limit their visiting hours,
and you will finally get some rest,
find some peace.
That is what I truly wish for you,
my friend.

Naked Embrace

I want you naked
on your back
pushed down hard
under attack
mouth to flesh
hands in my hair
stripping away
your every care
a wicked smile
upon my lips
as I dare to venture
below your hips
a sharp breath inward
as our dance begins
fingertips gliding
over your skin
looking up and
meeting your gaze
sensing your passion
your fire ablaze
becoming one
where once we
were two
sinking deeply
so long overdue
the music
has ended
and yet
we remain
deeply transcended~
completely expended

Crimson Beauty

In the midst
of murkiness
and fog
muted colors
are all I see
when suddenly
around the bend
she appears
standing tall
standing proud
forcing us to take notice
her branches ablaze
with shades of crimson
scarlet
and vermillion
chromatic to the third degree
she stands alone
unafraid to let her colors show
blazing brightly
adding passion
giving beauty
an affirmation of life
on an otherwise
dismal
day
of gray

My Muse

am I alone
in my wanting
my hoping,
and dreaming for more?
do you ever awake
willing me to be,
there at your door?

would we walk by the river
would we lie by the sea
would I look in your eyes
and reflected, see me?

would you take me on a road trip
would you map the route to your heart
would you kiss my lips farewell
would you wish to never part

would we spin around in circles
would we run mazes through the corn
would you hold me through the night
and watch the sun announce the morn

would you speak to me with your eyes
with your passion, with your song
with your newly unfettered footsteps
dancing across my soul at dawn

Would you love me without ceasing
would you never let it fade
would you promise me the next lifetime
we’ll no longer be afraid?

Letter to no one...part one

Days weeks
months and years
pass by
and still you are
the cancer of my mind.
it was 13 years ago we first met
and a decade ago we became lovers.
Passion, excitement
awakening…
love and then something more
something deeper than love
a bottomless emptiness
that only you could fill.
Life became complicated,
we hid our love away…
true feelings kept hidden,
sloppily tucked away.
I don’t know who we thought we were fooling…
permanent longing, lasting looks
were written all over our faces,
looks shared only by two people
who have shared one soul…
bare, naked
stark and real.
I didn’t get tired of waiting, as you have implied.
Back then, time was on my side.
Wating I could do….it wasn’t the waiting, it was the pain.
Even I, with a higher than normal pain threshold
couldn’t endure the pain you inflicted.
Strike that…
I could endure it,
but not
forever.
Too painful to be reminded of what it was like
to have found home,
only to live in seperate houses…
to steal hours and hours away
together
only to return seperately
and find we were not even missed..
in our houses we were not seen,
not heard, not touched, not felt..
Only together were each of us made whole.
I was ready for you my love…
if only you had asked..
I was yours for the taking.
I did not grow tired of waiting…
I grew tired of hurting.
You were not ready for ME
Once that became clear
what choice did I have?
The ball was set in motion
and I just had to find a way
to keep putting
one foot
in front of
the other.
Just keep moving
go with the flow.
Back then I was stuck in a box.
I didn’t think there were many choices
to escape the box.
If I hadn’t kept moving,
I would still be waiting today in misery.
Thank God I kept moving
through a failed marriage…
thank God I kept going.
You were all that I needed
and yet could never be enough.
How is that possible?
Eight years ago, the evening before
my wedding…a rehearsal dinner…
every toast had deeper meaning.
Words hidden within structured sentences
Every time our eyes would meet the words left unsaid
became crystal clear.
I knew it was a mistake
but it was a mistake I had to make.
Running to the ladies room to throw up
as the knot in my stomach became too much to bear.
The warning signs were all there…
don’t marry someone you’re not in love with anymore.
There was no drama like on TV shows…
no one stood up at the ceremony to object…
but you were there late that night,
I was awake all night
couldn’t sleep…
you the cancer of my mind kept invading my thoughts.
Sitting up in darkness by the window, with the moon my only illumination
I gazed out the window
and saw you.
You were out there across the street…standing outside your car, just looking
towards the house…..

For Marcus~they lies/we failed

Author notes:
True story about Marcus Fiesel. One day I'll work on revisions..a painful write.

Eyes of ocean blue
a mop of cocoa brown hair
impish grin
3 years old
a smile that betrayed the truth
defenseless
the first years of your life
spent living among fleas
and feces
falling out of second floor windows
found wandering the streets
not so uncomon
in a boy
with Autism
the bruises that were found
among the other things
raised alarm
and you were given over
to police custody
a new life promised
a better life
full of hope
they lied
they lied
they lied
and WE failed
placed you in the home
where the ultimate tragedy
would occur
you went missing
foster mom claims she collaped
at the park
and when she came to
you were gone
a search ensues
thousands of volunteers
desperately search
hoping to find a clue
a video plea is made
foster mom pleading
for what??
they lied
they lied
they lied
as the weeks go by
the truth comes out
a family reunion
out of state
why bother finding
someone to take care of you?
Was it easier to tie your hands
behind your back,
then wrap you in a blanket
in the middle of a scorching heat wave
bound with duct tape
and stuff you in a closet?
Apparently so..
they returned
and found you already dead
but your horror didn't stop there
foster dad, mentally unstable
who slipped through the cracks
of justice and background checks
took your little body
to a secluded location
he found an abandoned
property--the perfect location
with an old stone chimney
just large enough
to put your tiny body
douse it with gasoline
and burn the evidence-
which was you,
Marcus
they lied
they lied
they lied-
they're still lying
I wish that we had heard of you
differently
that you would have had a loving home
filled with hope, understanding, acceptance
where someone would have taken
the time
to work with you
to help you
but above all
to love you...
I wish that the only reason
I had ever heard of Marcus Fiesel
was because he grew up
and conquered the problems he faced
that you would have been the next J-Mac,
or something even greater...
words alone
cannot begin to express
the pain I feel
knowing your life
was so brutally taken
first by Autism
robbing you of a voice
and clarity
then by the people who
were supposed to protect you
sing Marcus, sing
for finally you have a voice
finally you are loved
unconditionally
perfectly
where no one can ever hurt you again

Muted Visions

This picture
We’ve been painting
Is not permanent
We haven’t broken out
The oils or acrylics
Instead we’re playing
With watercolors
So easily
Altered~
A single
Tear
Drop
Blurs…
Smudges
The lines
We’ve carefully
Laid down
Boundaries become
Fuzzy
before we
Realize what’s
Taking shape
Our creation
Becomes
Completely muted
Watered down
Washed out
Instead of the
Vibrant
Canvas
It could have
Been…
Shall we try
Again?
Recreate,
Procreate...
Something
Of permanence?
Or are we stuck in this medium..
where emotions
are
Easily washed
Away?

Quilt of Memories

You come to me in many distant thoughts...
You are
comfort,
loss...
a reminder of innocence

You are
heartache...
the smell of lavender sachet,
a big fluffy towel, fresh from the dryer

you are,
yellow roses, just because...
pansies planted in old tire planters,
a thousand kisses goodnight,
and a million kisses lost forever.

You are
ice pops on a summer day,
the whisper in the wind,
caretaker of my soul..
my son's guardian angel,
and smiling eyes reflected in my daughter...

you gave me life only to have yours end
so suddenly,
so painfully.

You are
strong,
brave and stubborn
you are a lot like me, I think,
yet will never fully know..

You are hundreds of small memories,
I piece together in my mind
until they make
a quilt I can wrap myself in
getting lost in the memories of you..

you are,
simply
my mom.

The Road I travel

The things that would be easy
are not things that I choose
right or wrong
I’ve been down both those roads before
what appears easy and simple
is complexity and danger cloaked in disguuse

I could easily sneak away
my bed is empty at night
while he sleeps a floor beneath me
I could visit the store
not far from my house
on a day I’m alone
pay a visit
to the man who wants
to kiss my lips
but
I do not.

I sit at home
and write
I write of my passion
some days
until it feels
my fingertips
could bleed
I write
I think
I write some more
I try to shake the voices in my head
telling me how easy it would be
to find someone new
to share these passions with

I would love to travel
to sample a taste
of something
that feels
like a sunset
sounds like a symphony
looks like a life painting
that I could jump into
and call home.

yes…I have desires
and fantasies
just like anyone else

What I choose
is a more difficult road
maybe it’s not the right path
maybe it will wind up being a dead end.
for now it is the only path
I travel

it’s much harder
to sleep alone in a bed
meant to be shared
to spend nights cold and lonely
rather than in a lover’s arms
much more difficult
to rekindle a fire
that has long been extinguished
wouldn’t it be simpler to
throw a new log
on the fireplace
start a new blaze?

I have walked the path of least resistance also

many years ago
taken the easy way out

it was easy
falling
but not so easy
ending…
hurting…
and now from the past
I emerge
having learned
some important life lessons
slightly jaded
but still hopeful
and full of passion

with these lessons in mind
I painstakingly choose my path
wiser for having
traveled both roads

Seasaw

A seesaw of emotions
a blogging poet fool
a gypsy lost in twilight
consumed by dreams of you

A sonic boom explosion
a tale that must be told
a song without a melody
and riches without gold

a heart that’s full of memories
and pain that’s best untold
a life that’s in the balance
and survival mode still holds

a beauty lies within
a shelter from life’s storm
a hope in darkest moments
that keeps me safe and warm

another day is dawning
the sun rises through the mist
today I will begin anew…
a woman who must persist

The Box

‘meet me in the box’
we used to say
you made me my very own
silver box
I pull our box down from the shelf
and peek inside..

printed e-mails
handwritten letters
cards
pictures
scraps of paper
toy airplane kits
pregnancy tests
shopping bag from the jewelry store,
all that remains of my aquamarine ring
your special present to me
before we were 'us'
the adventures of fender bender book
and his little tin
where he used to live
memories so distant
and yet so near

tears slip
remembering
reading
feeling
so much love
and passion

do we have a gift
as we spoke of so long ago
or are we just another
fatality
in this game
of life?

life was so much different then
I held onto fear
you kept drawing me closer,
and even in distance,
seperation
you
never gave up

i sat up past 3AM
writing on scraps of paper
‘100 reasons why i love you’
now
tucked safely inside the box
a distant memory..

12 cards on your birthday
each with clues
to lead you
to your ultimate present

one e-mail
forshadowing
something we never thought
would become our lives
'mercury rising'
the movie you watched
about an autistic boy
and you weren’t even sure
how to spell autistic
four years later we would find out
with our only son
our own special angel

now here i sit
sifting through
memories
wondering
if our box
will continue to grow
and fill with memories
or if this box
will be all that remains
of
us…

October's Skeletons

Author Notes:
There's a lot of hidden references in here...if you read deeply enough you should get it. Purging the demons. Confessional without telling all..







He was a double stop sign
11:11
East Coast/West Coast
Jim Morrison/James Dean
Rebel Without a Cause/Clue
Ker-o-wack/heart-attack
nomad/.hippie
smokin/tokin
high school drop-out
poet/fool

A Gerber-knife-wielding
'feed your baby/kill your baby'
thief of books/hearts

the only poet whose words left physical scars
~never let another poet get so close
(it will never happen
again...)

I hear he has
two published books of poems
Mommy and Daddy must be
so proud
they never saw
the scene that played out on their front lawn and sidewalk
that day

he was..
laughing in the wake of the storm~
Tori had the cadillac,
Fred's Seville..
I had a locked bedroom, without escape
gerber baby and you.

morrison and poetry couldn't save you that cold October day
from the monster that hid within

I haven't read your books
I already know your journal entries
skip October 15
since you told me
in no uncertain terms
Gerber-wielding-crazed-wild-eyed fuckface
the day never happened
it doesn't exist
erased from time
here's the lines from your favorite song
tweaked
just for you

(this is the only thing I'll ever write about you..
not FOR you,
it's for me)

tried to run
tried to hide
do you recall that day I cried?
no breaking through to the other side
that was the day a part of me died

Drama Club

Authors Notes:
We've all known someone like this..n'est pas?






Take center stage
throw words around
soliliquies of shame,self doubt
darkened lights cloud
room, night, eyes
from seeing sins of flesh
rip the stitches out deliberately
s l o w l y
painstakingly
knowing all the while
someone else will come along
sew you right back up
because you're center stage girl
troubled, beautiful ,deep
in shit.
bullshit that is
just another page in the book
no one will buy
the screenplay will flop
and you'll wind up desperately
trying a re-write.
history has infinite memory
and little patience~
final soliloquy
center stage
alone
wound ripped open once again
blood spilling on floor
masses gone
left alone with tears and guts spilling out
words inked in blood
forming a pool in which
you drown.
Act over.

Seasons of my Life January-April

Author Notes:
The beginning of a series I'm working on..looking at events that happened throughout my life by month. It's long, but tells a story.


January

January brings
a birthday,
the superbowl,
a wedding ~
followed by a car crash,
palpitations,
the beginning of mysterious symptoms
and countless hospital visits

a distant memory
of a snowy evening
sneaking out
and braving the snowy roads
for candlelight
and passionate kisses
and dreaming of big beds
and squeaky wooden floors
fireplaces to illuminate
and entrance
and songs played only for one

January...
long,cold days
made warmer by a lover's kiss

February

A cold and rainy February evening
waves of pain overtaking thought
it's time to leave the warm cocoon
the safety of home
venture into their sterile environment
and wait....

trepidation, primal fear
and suddenly a change
the threshold for pain pushed to the limit
and screams echo in the room
I CAN'T DO THIS!!!!

Squeezing a hand
breathing deeply through pain
digging deep
finding untapped strength
pushing with the pain
finally ~relief!

'It's a girl!' the Doctor shouts
I repeat his words
tears spilling down my cheeks
and a circle is made complete

I feel her presence from another realm
and softly she whispers to me~
now you know
just how much I loved you
as only a mother can love her daughter
peace and comfort wash over me
and I begin my journey as a mother

March

3:20 AM, 1976
I pushed my way into this world
my mother's most difficult birth
a stubborn Ram, even then
and so
my journey begins...

from newborn to 8 years
a normal childhood
two loving parents,
childhood pets
cupcakes brought to class
for birthdays
family gatherings for holidays
average middle class suburbia..

Then I turned 8.
For my 8th birthday I wanted
a nurse cake.
Dreams of becoming a dancer or teacher
dissipated quicker than her health.

I proudly told mommy,
"I'm going to be a nurse just like Miss Karen,
so I can take care of you too."

I tried my best,
sitting with her in the dark air conditioned bedroom
offering her water, cool washcloths, and pictures
I'd colored of rainbows and flowers.

Before I'd turn 9 I would give up the dream of
being a nurse..they couldn't save her,
neither could I.

She died on the first day of third grade,
somewhere between the pledge of allegiance
and recess.

I didn't cry, not until my dad offered me
that damn gold pen from the funeral home
it looked so fancy,
I figured it must do something amazing.
like write away the truth of the moment..
rewrite the plot, bring the main character
back from the dead?

I was so sure it did something, that I asked my dad.
My grandfather and him laughed at my question
and told me it did 'nothing'
That was the first time I remember crying.

After the funeral I did not attend
once back at school I wanted normalcy
above all else.
No one should talk about it,
no one should know about it..
I'm just a normal 8 year old,
in an extraordinary gifted 3rd grade class.
Who just happened to get pulled out
the first day of school because her mom died.

Keep smiling and they'll believe you're just like them.

Life was never the same after that...
the years blurred

9 years later I celebrate
more than a birthday
17 years old, nearly an adult
I am still weak from mono
but strong enough to get out of bed
leave the house, no longer home
see the world through a 1964 mustang
instead of a bedside view.

this is reason to celebrate
breathe in spring air
smelling it's freshness, innocence...

He came back to town
bringing flowers
in hopes of a kiss
a last ditch effort at 'I'm sorry..
for last October, not believing you,
all I put you through that day'

He forgot to apologize for leaving
without saying good-bye
leaving me waiting in pre-sunrise hours
to make the journey up to Boston
but never showing up.
In a years time he will be mostly forgotten.

365 days pass by once again
and I am embarking
taking flight
on what is to be one of the greatest
adventures of my life
headed overseas, to reunite
with my lover
whose sugar flows to my lips
as honey flows from my hips

my mystery man
who calls me, 'my me'
strums his guitar
singing me poems
in the darkness

songs only I will hear
in a strange English flat
as sirens ring out
warning of danger
and things yet to come

April

April, go Away


Ah April...
you bring new life
in purple hues
tiny flowers sprouting up
from the cold wet ground
defying nature

I walk the path
that will never be forgotten
counting footsteps
12 steps up
and 12 steps
d
o
w
n
and memories come flooding back--

a childhood home
now empty
countless days and nights
spent in these walls,
a bedroom full of memories-
of secrets that will remain untold...
nights of laughter
gasping for breath
as we shared our stories

standing here with her
more a sister than best friend,
part of my family-
we cry
embracing each other
and with words unspoken
understand the significance
of all of this

I cradle my newborn
as she nuzzles my breast
and think of my mother
sitting here in this rocker
nursing me, sustaining my life..

the last boxes are packed
big yellow truck in the driveway
nosy neighbor peeking out
just like always

not much has changed
except my parents
are moving
leaving me here
alone

we say goodbye to the house
that became our home
changed through the years
as they tried to erase the memory
of my mother
too painful for them
but the memories remain
tucked away in our hearts
that will never change..

A year ago I was overseas
and returned to another empty house
it doesn't feel like home
although now there is a family there
mother
father
daughter
but there is something missing
something that will never surface,
it's just a house..

a distant memory now
from the past
but my home, and my heart
still reside on Chestnut St.
and by the pond-
my place of solitude
and more memories unfold..

April...
I've blocked you out
Not wanting to remember the more recent past
for it was you
who brought the beginning
of this painful journey
that I am still stuck on

wheels spinning
going nowhere
you gave me the first glimpse
of what life was to become
a labrynth of phone calls,
fighting with insurance companies,
learning terminology--
learning there are too many
who share this road,
too many lost in this maze..
too many pieces
that just don't fit.

I don't like you April...
you took away my family
and forced me to confront
my deepest darkest fears

Hurry away now...
bring us May and her flowers,
we've had enough of you and
your drenching shower of sorrow

The Garden

The garden you planted
was ripe with promise, possibility
as you carefully placed seedlings into soil
making sure there was just enough space
between each to allow the chance to grow.
Your long hours of nurturing paid off
in early spring when the first blossoms began to show.
By summer you had a dazzling plot
of brilliant colors, tiny petal-faces
beaming up at the sun.
The first few years you tenderly
cared for your garden,
spending hours weeding out unwanted invaders,
cutting back to give shape, pruning to rejuvenate..
you were filled with pride and love
gazing upon the fruit of your labor.
Then the storms came blowing through
and in a hasty effort to retreat from the relentless
pounding of rain beating down upon your back
you rushed out of the garden,
trampling your most beautiful flower.
The flower was strong enough to survive the storm
it endured the harsh winds and rain..
now it rests with hopeful petal-face
against the dirt waiting for you
to come back, stand it upright
pack fresh soil around it,
keep it propped up straight,
until it's strong enough to stand alone,
once again vibrant, radiating life.
directly due south the sun is blazing brightly,
air filled with the smell of fresh manure & compost
stakes laid out & perimeter secured
a new Eden planned
while petal-face slowly whithers away
in soil drenched by tears.

Nutrients of Life

Nurturing is what I do best
maternal instincts
somehow survived
mother-less-ness
just tell me which
nutrient you need
today
I'll be the sugar in your carbs
your mono-sacch-a-rine
sweetness in your veins
drip by sticky drip
flowing from
honey britches
I'll be your protein
sustaining life with my
warm milky breasts
I can water you with
tears of love & gratitude
hoping to reach your roots
that they may drink me in
but I can't nurture
substantiate
supply
if not given the chance
& nurturing is a two way street
my dear fair-weather love
if I am left aimlessly
wandering
with aching mouth
hunger in my belly
how do you expect me to
turn around and
satitate your every need?

Writing to the darkness (A letter)

I'm unsure of how to begin, what to say. I only know I have this urgent need to write to you. I've been sitting here trying to figure out what exactly it is that I want to say to you and I'm drawing a complete blank. What is there to say that will make any sense of what has happened? No words of mine can change this course of events, I cannot take away this pain you're going through. Words at this point are completely useless, yet, that is all I have to offer.

Alone in this moment there is no greater torture than knowing I have been the cause of your pain. I hate the realization that there is nothing to be done. No amount of wishing, nor actions, nor words will make things better. If time would allow, one moment, just one, I would hold you close to my heart and you would understand. Ear pressed against breast you would hear what I've been trying to tell you all along, this is no way to live and yet it is the only way to live. You would finally hear the echo of my footsteps, reluctant, walking away against my will.

I know your heart better than my own, empathy and intuition have given me full access to the fear and doubt that resides within. Why do you doubt what is certain, what has been written? A certainty such as this comes but once in a lifetime, you cannot alter destiny. I have seen you through many battles, many ages, and am completely devoted, inexplicably so, perhaps foolishly so. I have faith and believe in you, I love you with a depth you will never find elsewhere.

You will search, you will look in books, perusing every word, studying each exclamation mark, striving to understand the language. You will look in paintings, desperately seeking what lies beneath the layers of paint,searching for the brush stroke where beauty originated, only to find pain. You will listen intently to every whisper, in darkened corner booths, surreptitiously glancing around the room in hopes of yesterday making an impromptu appearance. You will clearly hear every groan of protest drawn from tired,musty beds, searching for an answer. You will deeply inhale the fragrant night, speeding along desolate countryside never glancing out the window to see where home lies, too busy adjusting to unaccommodating virgin leather seats.

You will look to the moon, with it's bald eye, for wisdom. You will glimpse a shooting star and believe you have found truth but will cry out as you realize it was only dust slipping through the sky, through your outstretched hands.

Your mouth taught me to fly, your words, crystallized like honey stung my lips with the weight of truth. Your body taught me to cry, choruses silently sung in unison,striking that elusive chord over and over begging for forgiveness, finally crying out against the oppressive reign 'hallelujah'.

There is no end, as there is no beginning, there is only this moment.

Always,
Self

Falsely Accused

What could I have done differently?
should be phrased
Could I have done anything differently?
and the answer should be
a distinctly loud
and
resounding
NO.

Instead I rack my brain
for answers
that just
aren't
there.

I will never know
the reason
why..

In my heart
I know
there was
nothing
I did wrong..
that
it wasn't
and isn't
my
fault.

My mind
however
feels a need
to
overanalyze,
place blame
with
someone.

Who better
than myself?
No one else
wants to
step up to
the plate
and admit
or acknowledge
they too
may have
played a
part
in the
1 in 150
innocent
lives
left
in
daily
crisis

no one
wants to
see
the
families torn
apart
no one wants
to hear
the
pain
that has
no sound,
no
voice.

I'll take
part
of the
blame
for my
One
in
150.
At least
that way
there is
someone
to
blame
even
if
falsely
accused

Many roads I have traveled


Each one a journey leading me here


Many thoughts have scattered


Propagating fragmented dreams


Harvested doubts subside


Inertia moves me forward


S l i d i n g off the map straight into your arms.

Poised

My mind reels
open to the thought of possibilty
careening forward
down slippery slopes
across deep ravines
around complex bends
before applying the brakes
causing head-on-collision
Crash! Bam!
Settling with dust on solid ground
I have stopped.
Mind and body not in sync..
My body
remains poised
gracefully
one foot extended
pointed
lingering at precipice
questioning, faltering, unsure
whether
to l e a p , free falling
or retreat staggering
overwhelmed by vertigo
back to solitude & safety.
Back into myself.

Getting loopy on Nyquil

Author Notes:
Pretty much what the title says...the result of being sick and on Nyquil..nonsense writing!

Cry like you mean it
Silent tears
Just don't cut it
Tear away from
Solitude
Blood roses
Sent too late
Sobbing wreck
She's no quitter
Graves for sinners
Even angels shed their wings
Back on the street
All the faces gray
Kaliedescope dreams
Swirl like cotton candy
Sugar dissolves in mouth
Suck it deep within
Scent your taste
With rose petaled skin
Fires burn
And ashes fall
Blistering pavement
Beneath her feet
Run faster
Faster
Faster
Still
Mind over matter
Shake it up in side your head
Shake it off
just..
Let go
Titantic water envelops soul
Drowning in pool of madness
Despair sets in
Past the point of dis-repair
Last breath gasped
as
Tears
drown

Coming full circle (retitled)

I try to make my mouth
form the words you need
but I'm frozen
what is left to say?
Cannot say 'I love you'
that requires active voice
we've been passive for so long now
crows have circled, fed, moved across the pond

Cannot say 'I'm sorry'
not to you at least,
only have my Self to apologize to
for believing fables spun
around, over my head,
planted seeds
deep inside my heart
germinated on windowsill
bathed in sunlight
then dumped out into new soil

Cannot say 'I forgive you'
for being so clever
using innocence
anointing your head
kneeling at your altar
self-made God~
Rockets flew past our window
charred earth left
where we lay clinging
to promises spoken
ambiguous as your Love

You,who knew this love
would keep me up at night
searching the horizon for a
glimpse of your shadow

You, who knew my belly would swell
anticipating your faithful promise
of return, reunion,lifetimes

You, who knew I would bleed
when you terminated this life
we shared
sloughing off dead cells
un-needed,unwanted baby
of Self
inner child aborted
left me with frozen embryos

sobbing on floor
curled back into fetus
finally the words form..
'I forgive..
You, Me, Us'
Through salty tears
oceans of regret wash away
I emerge head first
feet planted firmly
on new ground
a lusty cry swells from deep within
primal scream echoes off walls
claiming my birthright~
I choose Life.

Living Life

if at the end
words remain unwritten
stars will not fall from the sky

rain will shatter silence
gentle reminder of life
spent living
cool wet drops
grow oppressive
cottonfusedtoskin

relish poetry on lips,
passionate promises
finally fulfilled

thouroughly devour
the aroma,
sable soil
once parched
now ready for
seed

volumes remain
e m p t y
pens remain full
prolific an ancient definition
but...
it will not matter,
for...
the meadow shall have
bare spots
grass worn away
from dancing barefoot

the wooden floor
will have deep grooves
from hours spent
rocking, gazing
off porch at the horizon
as sunrises and sets

the feet will be calloused
the back will ache,
the shoulders remain strong
carrying the weight
of those who could not
bear the load alone

strength and grace
patience..
outlasting all
~unbroken~
hair will always reflect setting sun
~unharnessed~
eyes will always reflect stormy sea
chasing away all grey
with a kiss and a smile
~unwritten~
~undefined~
living life fully
one day at a time

Collision Imminent

Tonight, I see you
clearly,
in spite of the crescent moon
your hand pressed firmly
to the small of my back
leading me away
from this place
thumb tracing my jawline
seconds before your hands are in my hair
face upturned
lips finally meeting mine
parting for a moment
stunned,
finding
I am transfixed
to your eyes.
mouth opens
as your tongue
seeks to etch memory
in every pore of
my body-
vulnerable, open
eyes full of oceans
and you a wave~
softly caressing my shores
ebb and flow
soft and slow,
we hold tightly
rocking gently
riding the night
daring stars
to burn as bright

no ghosts of past
walking through the mist
tonight
present, future
planets un-discovered
stars un-covered
unseen, neglected
by careless former
lovers
gazing into darkness
unable to see through cover of clouds
tonight, we two,
burning brighter
towards future generations
of love and light
music fills this empty space
transfixes us
keeps our pace
cellos fade
we're approaching the bridge
modulate, wait for me
coming, only a beat behind
acoustic guitar becomes amplified
driving
faster
raw
hardcore
my eyes never falter
only bore deeper
into center of being
you're locked in my sights now
hips rocking
finding rhythm mesmerizing
hypnotizing
nails find flesh
mouth covers body
smothering screams
and words no one would expect to hear
coming from my mouth
no longer in control
crying out
'fuck me'
'nail me to the ground'
river rocks
heated by fire
strategically placed
on thighs
encouraging torrent
of lava
as ice melts between
mountains
dripping
s l o w l y
due south
lava meets
salt of ocean
in frenzied anticipation
steam rises
and the moon howls
her approval
as stars explode
in waves of bliss.

















this, my love
is the epilogue
soliloquy complete

Indian Corn

Author Notes:
Old poem that one day I hope to turn into a song...

On the curvy backroad streets

the paths we used to share,

your smile is so sweet

and you can take me anywhere.



Headed into the sun

our day has just begun

and I’ve got the time (baby)

if you think you may care



Indian corn and kisses so sweet

walking hand in hand

the many smiles we shared that day

and things that were never planned



Autumn air and houseplants

for whose house I don’t know

planting the seeds that we knew in time

would only continue to grow



Driving on these roads again

I’d know them anywhere

these streets have got your name on them

and the wind blows through my hair



Somehow we’ll find the answers

in this glass we’re looking through

the mirror tells a story

the picture I paint is of you



And someday’s not so far away

when it comes to me and you

cause we’ve got a lifetime (baby)

to see this crazy love through



And I tell myself we’ll find some way

to make it to the end

cause you and I we have a tie

that time can never end.

Shit on the Floor~For Representative Barton

Author Notes:
This was just an angry rant directed at Rep. Joe Barton when he was stalling on the Combating Autism Act. It's old news now and I don't usually do much with politics, but this smelled so rotten I had to blow off some steam.

We really don’t care if you think we’re crazy-gp ahead and call us extreme because the reality is just the same. Though you may wear a suit and tie and I wear jeans streaked with whatever the shit du-jour happens to be I guarantee if you were me, if you were walking in MY shoes through my barricaded house-if it were your son or daughter, sister or brother-you’d be a little fucking crazy and pissed at the asshole you’ve become Mr. Representative.

Tell me again who and what exactly are you representing? ‘Mike’ was more polite than I would have been..all he asked was to see you and was told there was no more room in the meeting behind closed doors..the door couldn’t even be opened so he could stand in the doorway..no room at the inn. I have a feeling the smell of shit would have knocked him out anyway.(watch him here….http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aa2-bFlASpo) Had it been me I would have organized a bunch of us ‘crazies’ with all of our autistic kids in tow and let them loose right there in your office. Let them run around laughing, jumping, climbing, screaming..let them bang their heads on that door and demand you hear THEM. Let them shit on your desk, in the middle of the floor, paint you a masterpiece on your walls-just so you don’t forget what we REALLY think of you.Fact is your shit is the same as theirs, and yes, we smell it on the FLOOR.

But that’s just my craziness talking…don’t worry I only let it out to play on paper. I’ll play nice..write my letters, make my phone calls, post my bulletins, send my e-mails. I’ll stop and think and think and think and realize that maybe our kids with autism have a gift, to not see as clearly the fucked up world in which they live-to not see the people who should be representing and fighting for them stabbing them in the back, saying they just aren’t important enough. Maybe tonight I’ll join his world and free myself at least until tomorrow when I wake up and FIGHT for his rights against narrow minded people like you who twist the truth and words to fit your needs.


It's sickening how little is being done. Autism stats are up to 1 in 150. For boys the number rises to 1 in 94. Every 20 minutes a child is diagnosed with Autism. More children will be diagnosed with Autism this year than AIDS, Diabetes, and Cancer
combined, yet public research funding for the disorder totals less than 5 percent of that for leukemia,
juvenile diabetes, and muscular dystrophy.

4 Maples, 5 Stars and a river road (aka, When the music fades away)

Author Notes:
In the middle of writing this everything changed. It took on a different path, which is not yet complete...not sure of the ending yet.

I don't expect you
to never want to play again.
That would be like asking
DaVinci to never paint another masterpiece.
The hands of a music man
need to play
daily.
I understand the music we made
was your greatest composition
I was your symphony
But somewhere along the way
the music stopped
you stopped playing
I stopped singing.
Strings snapped
you blew your stack.
The critics were silent
it was your fear
that left you paralyzed,
kept you from playing.
I stopped singing
when it was clear
my voice would never be heard.
Love apologized for the deafening silence,
took a quick bow
and silently walked off the stage.
There was no final farewell concert,
no goodbyes
it just became clear
to me
that I was a fool
Standing in the spotlight
with no accompaniment
If your voice is strong enough
you can do a'capella
but I needed the strumming
to produce those high pitched notes,
to keep the beat.
You went back to your old gig
while I tried to find my place
once again.
Eventually I decided to move on
to a different stage.
Instead of being in the spotlight
singing anthems
I sat quietly rocking,
humming lullabies.
To the outsider,
the music was gone.
You and I knew differently,
that it would never completely fade away.

Squandered

I was working through some unresolved anger...

The memories
are not the worst
far more painful
the unknown
a decade passed
years to ache
mourn
lust
hate
resent
and then
stop.

I stopped hating
blaming
resenting
feeling
remembering…
until one day
we spoke.

peculiar circumstances
pretense of civility.
everything came crashing back
onto me
hitting me again
and again
amplilfied
reverberating
round and round my brain.

I suddenly realized
I had a lot to say
unfinished business
we exchanged mindless banter

words masking words
not ready to be penned.
and then
anger~

a conversation
about the past
your memory
completely clouded
from the time
you spent
self medicating
denial denial denial
your favorite word
you were never to blame
the lucky one
getting off
al-ways

you told me
no harm
meant by those words
though you should know
by now
all words
carry
pain

suddenly
i had a need
to make you remember
to understand
to pick your brain
for clues
to know beauty
and youth
were not squandered away

a phone call arranged
i hung up
no clearer
static
through the lines
again
some things transmitted
crystal clear

your memory served well
to recall
the way i looked
with my hips in your hands
the way I’d dine
and devour
your culinary masterpiece
years in the making
waiting
for someone hungry enough
to feast

a dish best served
warm
while on
one’s knees.

left unspoken
the indian corn
‘loverman’
who once was mine
no memory
of the one
who gave
and gave
and
cleaned up
warmed up
held up
while you dt’ed
and fell again
and again
exchanging one high
for another

no…
you got off again
asshole
no memories
of pain

i guarantee the fine
you’ll pay
far cheaper
than the memories
left behind