Selfless and considerate,
respectful, responsible,
and then I close my eyes.
Kerosene thrown across
the plains of the nation,
mirrors breaking,
tires slashed,
enraged, I want to explode.
Heart attack from a volcano
building up tension for years,
lungs shattered like the
falsetto of an untrained opera singer,
how to keep my cool
when the ice has melted?
Eyes open to catch a breath
and the feelings submerge.
For now, nothing is cracked,
nothing is damaged,
nothing is broken.
It stays inside,
but for how long?
"Poison Fruit"
I bring you to my lips,
warm sweet love,
cherry love,
cold love,
painful love.
I spread you against my skin
even when I know
you are bad for me.
A moist wet ocean
of venom,
succulent from birth
till the time when you kill me
in my presence
with my arms crossed
across my chest;
self-crucifiction.
Again, I smell you,
I taste you
and I am hardened
with the flavor of death,
coming over me
like the rising of Hell.
It's bitter love
with these lips locking
into the end of eternity.
"Beautiful Water"
Water flows in waves
so smooth,
so gentle.
I step in and splash
the water over
my arms,
my legs,
and soon,
my whole body is covered.
I slide my head in
and bathe in all its glory.
Cool, drenching
beauty from the first touch.
My hands
comb through my hair
as I navigate my body
through the current.
Time elapses
and I am no longer present,
feeling only joy and freedom.
"Cigarette Smoke"
Slowly disintegrating,
greys and browns and blacks
smoldering into one
traveling cloud.
Tranquil sparks
of red and orange
melting down to the core.
Solitude enjoying
an afternoon breeze.
Perfect spirals
of clarity
exhaled through
the mouth and nostrils.
Free flowing
loneliness by choice,
off in any direction
it pleases.
Warmth in my lungs,
the sweet taste
on my lips,
happiness is exalted
in every drag.
And then the moment
is gone
and all has
disappeared
except for the filter,
slowly disintegrating
and soaring into clear space.
"Fire Night"
Candle wax
slowly drips down
a beautiful waist line.
Hands grip
onto flesh
during this fire night.
A dance in rhythm,
melodic motion,
and the warm kiss
of youthful love.
Every time this
feeling enters
I think of
the first time
it felt so good,
that time
when I breathed
and knew
I was alive.
"Healing"
A surge of energy
with a calming thought,
healing hands
embrace,
and a prozac junkie
leaves her
lethargic lifestyle
with a smile.
A lot of pain
and empty loneliness
no longer seems
to matter.
Problems unfold,
and answers
seem to take part
in The Creation
of destiny and time.
With all that's happened,
this path doesn't
seem as hard
as it once did.
"It's Nice to be One of You"
You're someone no one knows
or recognizes.
You're just in the crowd,
a complacent, unblemished
surface no longer disturbed,
and it's nice to be one of you.
You're a percentage
inside a land of many
numbers and figures.
You've reconciled your regrets,
made way for new beginnings,
and it's nice to be one of you.
You've seen the failures of mankind
and have gone through your own,
now seeming to feel much smaller
than they once were.
You're doing it day in and day out,
and it's nice to be one of you.
You discover what you feel you must do,
and make yourself follow through
no matter what.
You're open and clear headed,
focused and content,
and it's nice to be one of you.
"Slave Mistress"
Little Seamstress Road
where the slave
washes her feet in the dirt.
She cries of her oppression,
with tears to be heard,
but she is all alone,
walking to the factory
where she works
to feed her unborn children.
Humiliation,
fingers pointed,
and she can do nothing
but acknowledge
the years she has put
into this life.
Her aching bones and limbs
are nothing to her
but a reminder
of her conception;
she never chose to be born.
In her long journey
ahead of her,
she brushes the dust
off her skin,
and carries herself
with an awkward smile,
her faith keeps her in check,
and she can feel no shame
for something she cannot control.
"Social Commentary"
Society overload,
rain drop tears,
and cemented complaints,
this is where it starts,
from head to toe
we examine
the physical images
that we judge,
and like so many
before us,
we cannot accept
what is laid out
in front of our eyes.
Cavity legions
and mass pretension,
this is what rubs off
on a group of people
who are insecure enough
to glue onto one another
for purposes so trivial
it is forgotten
what for and why.
Headlines from
the daily news
penetrate my brain,
and it's the same thing
all the time;
we hate ourselves
and it's a sad epidemic
that never seems to change.
"A Summer's Day"
Boy shovels snow
into a line,
and I am witness
without knowing,
looking behind
closed doors
and I can see
through the crack
that everyday
this past summer
like routine
he is a slave
to his white
as I am
to my orange.
I pick up the phone
and he's not there
so while I pray
for his life,
I let mine burn,
my love for the ash,
his love for the powder,
and we are only human,
driven by free choice
and desire
until controlled
by the substance
that let's us crawl back
to our fears
and helps us postpone
where we really
want to go.
"Passion"
Caress me til dawn,
I'm waiting for a kiss.
Drench me in
red wine passion
and flower me
with your touch.
I dance to this
beat of romance,
I tango to your
every move.
Like a carousel
that spins around
my head,
I imagine
your body
entangled in mine.
We sweat the night away
and make our worlds
come together
until there is no disarray.
Unity among
our love,
and sanity
between our thighs.
"Untitled Observation"
What happens
just happens to be
nothing more
than mirrors
bent on ice
and melting
in fire.
Lakes over taken and rivers burning waves
of destruction and shame,
the raging sea coming to drown,
coming to give back life
to the breathless and the weary.
"There is a God"
There is a god,
but where to look
I do not know.
Perhaps on the floor
laying beside me,
next to my dreams of
Janis Joplin,
six hour rainbow skies,
and neon butterflies.
Perhaps behind the door
where the medication resides,
or maybe the mirror
attached to the door,
my eyes that window freedom
see myself,
they see you.
Perhaps amongst the smoke
of a lit match,
faith in scars
and psalms I seem to recall.
Perhaps underneath
delicate sheets,
joining me and my convulsions
of open eyes and
nightly thoughts.
Perhaps drowning in the pool
where I came to bathe myself
of my guilt,
washed away memories,
implanted happiness,
and tried to move on.
Perhaps at times
when I outlet myself to you,
the ink bleeds deeper
than a cut,
the music rings louder
than a voice not there.
There is a god
that I have found
and am looking for,
but is there a god
looking for me?