Bring me close with your confessions
in response to a fellow poet:
bring me close with your confessions
cast not your eyes upon my face
but upon my heart.
do not whisper words of future
for my god hears no prayers
simply cherish me.
it matters not to me
past transgressions
it matters not to me
what others thought.
give me,
give me,
give me...
your heat
your passion
your smile,
knowledge of you.
I truly know
what love is
how it feels
to be cherished
in your eyes
as kindred spirit.
-darling
poets, do not read this
I read you, many of you
love’s lamentation lost…
you have no mates; those
of you who have mates,
leave them at home in
the dark lacking, existing.
They do not see you
the good, the bad, the
poet doomed to hope
once just once for love,
love’s lamentation lost
this life. I read you I
know you, they are
my words, my life. I
confront you to live
where I may never.
she just a little heart
She just a little girl
growed on inattention,
taken for granted, giving to
a fault she could not
would not ''tempt to close.
she have her duality of
spirit. she embrace it all
and yet mourns knowing
no one once they seen
her real want to keep her.
no one at'all. Self-efficacy
may just be her downfall.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
ba-ba blacksheep
The answer
lay not in
multitudes but
in your heart.
Lay not prone
to the social masses
in judgment
of health of mind or
spirit; but accept
your own duality
of nature as
I have my own.
Love, in peace
and anarchy,
love your way
as I love mine.
sadness
as published in the May-June issue of Black-Listed Magazine
When in the garden there's a girl
spills her heart on her sleeve saying
oh how clumsy, pardon me and
cries rubber duck smiles
nodding, slipping, torn away.
little black heart
dedicated to a girl I once knew...
She fucked up
finally this time;
the well had no
water to break
her rapid decent
when leaning
she fell too far.
"Oh aye," she
cry, "back to the
nunnery me gets!"
But did he know?
Did she impart?
She has much
love yet with
none did she part;
no man worthy of
her little black heart.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
god
You are not the words
in books repeated,
rehearsed, memorized
but the base for free
thought, critiqued and
the deconstucturalization
of social ideology
at its peak. Therefore
I retermed you
as universe and awe,
internalized you,
bound free to my
spirituality, stole you
from the bloody sheeple.
Yet why do I turn
to you with a head
full of love of him?
Friday, May 26, 2006
2.99 a pound
lips, tongue,
fingertips
stained
with juice sweet of
summer cherries
yet my mouth
is in want
of you..
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
beauty
In my heart
I always knew
I was beautiful;
in my heart
no one else did.
Still I toss aside words
in disbelief but
yours I hold close, it
being my soul of
which you speak.
m –
I want,
long and lean
to stretch back into
the curve of you
to spoon,
nap,
dream.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
replete
Light chenille pulled close
against fevered skin; too
hot flesh restlessly flush
in response to stimuli the
mind stirred from depths
and the distance of desires.
Little hands lost in thought
she moved; hey diddle-ooh,
a tear shed, a sigh torn, both
so soft she slept till morn.
Monday, May 29, 2006
backlog 2
Monday, May 22, 2006
hard candy christmas
Sometimes I'm not so sure
if I stopped the meds too soon
but you were wide-eyed
screaming to the empty room.
I wonder if it was too soon but
no I wonder did I do it for
you or for me, for daddy, to ease
all the suffering all around.
Regardless in my heart I found
the stillness to put you down'
put you on the death drip
that sent you further off, away,
that put you in the ground
and I on the edge of maturity.
call me buttercup
One day one December eve, OH
one, no, two years ago, I stopped
to look about and upon my eyes
came to rest a particular realize;
the ex, past loves and lovers had
seemingly
finally
attached
to their one, the one, A one, umm
perchance purchased the dairy from
wit the pussies drank they milk, got
whipped creams, pies, Jell-O thighs.
(No I am not bitter, instead a pitch
hitter, playa of mischievery adept
all
in
fun.)
Any who, my then current screw (for
lover did he lack in luster and care
(mark one up for a gimme? don't we
all get just one goddamn gimme?)
So yeah, accused of "where is my
one?" then eyein' him, I replied wry:
"go
fuck
yourself,"
and said goodbye for e'en friendship
with the chap was folly. But I was
brought low tide then high and realized
it was okay abreast of all to die. For so
I set about my life's love's pursuits:
to write, be my best; hermetically aloof.
Then
came
him
whom I could not let pass without
my walls but within and gave free
passage to let run amuck and I
unconditionally believed in the one
and only me's ability to lay open,
learn to give and grieve, let pass and
then
came
you.
in recipricocity to decree much freely
like me. I knew not what to feel, give
only that I want and do and in confusion,
hermetic fusion withers, lacking, sadly
scrying as I blossom flush and sweet
in attentive gazes giggling, challenging
do
you
meet.
being blonde gone red
when told by a friend
I am not dense, to her
my reply? "Um...loss
of synaptic aptitude
and spelling." That's
being blonde gone red.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
blossoming
I knew not I
was lonely
until..you
opened me
up, put me
in the sun
on the
window
sill and I
drank you in.
it's a brave new world
We slave away at jobs all day.
At night we croon, open mic to the moon
and all that would listen to us;
the poet the ruler of the new dissention.
We peddle our wares, our cares
free for all the massed classes that feel;
we the poet to druggies deal.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Well I wonder
Why so suddenly afraid?
Wasn't I the one
that said tread
these waters slow,
you the one that said
be yourself. But
onward I row, go,
holding safe those few
words of which I fear for
circumstance, time
situation, distance
more so than for
their feeling,
meaning but only
cause it's you.
I would never
feel just to feel.
Not again.
Never again.
This is still madness, yes?
But I find I want
to crush, to get
caught
up in it all, let
it flow natural
and real; in
dappled rays
of sunlit days
that bring me
words that touch
that heal an ache
I thought a dream;
cherishment
it would seem.
Why though, Love,
so suddenly afraid?
Well I do wonder...
Thursday, May 18, 2006
baby at work
There was a baby today,
she smelled like baby,
smiled like baby, cooed
and moved like baby.
The baby tooted when I held her,
her eyes got big and round, "did you
do that?" I asked. and she smiled big,
not two months old, knowing what I'm
saying. She knew. Babies know everything.
madness
I whispered in the eve
...of madness surely...
this one
soon
mine
love.
So much to cover so
much to know, confer
a year point five seems
so far yet a drop in time
for me to lift you up
into my happiness and
comfort in my arms, arms
that span ten thousand
miles of blushes and smiles.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
come august
Come August...
I will drive 'cross town to the catfish place
sit outside in my languid Texas heat, feel
the sweet drip of sweat 'tween breasts full
sipping soft on iced tea, slowly spooning
shrimp gumbo laced with hot sauce over
white rice, brought to lips and tongue and a
mouth that blows to cool the divinity of it.
representation of self
We are not this shell
scars from flesh torn
age and dilapidation
the youth of taut tits
snappy hip chic cool
coy smiles askew in
light shadow angle
but our hearts bared
attitude loose free
fucked minds at ease
transcendence sought
seeking sleaze sleek
torn souls careless
whispers intentional
teases bots shine
spirit incongruent to
façade as well as
soul matched smiles
reaching eyes when
they rest on another
to whom they connect.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
that loves
she's
just a little girl
just a little...
girl
she's just a little girl
she's
just a little girl
little girl
little girl that loves.
how much to divulge?
In hesitance, fingers
pause for she lay quiet
before the crush instills,
still feeling things out
for she proceeds unsure
even of what she thinks
she saw in passing as
intent toward her, her,
but he called her babe
and she blushed, coy;
blushed last eve
late under the moon's
keen eye, slept
deep, hard was her
flushed brow and
pink cheek pressed
to cool linens, soft
as slow she tread
waters uncharted
drifting into dreams.
And if what she saw
was in fact intent,
will he let her stay
awhile in ponderance
poking, polling, asking
analyzing her way, her
sore heart governed by
low of need for surety?
And how much to divulge,
ever cautious of his own
admittance to skin like
parchment far too thin...
i think i ate the canary
Bloody-damn
hand
pain all 'round and
up the shoulder, no
more than two hours
at a time could I rest
in slumber sweet
complete
yet rose I sluggish in
sheepish
smiles; oh
I think I ate the canary.
sex and intent
I love my little roundness
of the hips curved 'round
to my navel and womb. Oh
I have abs, they're there
somewhere under a tummy
fed full on organic milk
fats that fill me out well
in stark contrast to legs
still long, still slim, still
not enough to balance
breasts too heavy for my
frame as I oft lean full
force toward door jams
and the hard ground. I
suppose I was never one
for balance but as I walk
in graceful swings of
sex and intent I get a good
stare as I giggle when
I fall demurely on me bum.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
three one sunday (unrelated)
I
Pain brings me to
shore upon the banks
of reality, hurt so bad
I turtle, feelings so
intense words won't
come, only silence.
All lay bare upon my
sleeve instead of pen.
II
I felt invisible
having been
checked out
found lacking;
his touch
endless hunger,
mine, a light
repast; snacking.
III
daydream believer
"Can I touch your hair?"
"Of course", she smiled
and closed her eyes
his fingers grazing
cheek then lips, eyes
wide he violated her
heart and desires.
Fingers on keys,
eye on life outside
her window brightly
toward you, thought
turned, daydreams
burned, she
gazed.
for the ex
Gotta give the man
credit for being able to come so far so fast
after my asking for divorce kicked his ass:
Most of all I recall
your anger yet
even so, that fades
and I can exist
in the realm of
friendship and care;
you are happy
(as am I), babe
on the way (writing
my life), new
wife, new career, (I
will eventually get
where I go as well.)
All I know is
in the end have you
always and forever
as my friend.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
ain't scared a you
I
watched
you
die
swore I would never
let another love pass
my lips without one
sweet kiss as if to say
I
checked
it
out
and can be on my way
but at least Love at
least I was brave, did
live utmost and true.
two unrelated poems
No longer am I that young girl
(if ever I truly were) yet open I
mind wide, heart unabashed
and fill I, belly full finally do I
crave to know to wonder though
always in some wonder I wandered
now though, consumed am I with
passion for it
need to devour it
in rapid ascension, to live, learn.
My boss came in from meetings
and said "oh it's nice and quiet."
I wanted to say it's always nice
when you're away, oh and quiet.
Instead I smiled and nodded
in affirmation, keeping the peace,
endangering self toward apathy.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
thoughts of you intrude
Its sad if one needs sad
stories to remind one,
make one feel but it brings
me to you. I did so intrude,
to question are you even
looking? when remarks
of finding self seemed excuse
so flippantly formed.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
fever
'pon my brow
'tween my breasts
salt sweat not tears
but the uncoming
of pain in shallow
breathes of sleep
and exhaustion I
rise quiet in night.
zen haiku
fever
bring to a boil
salt lightly
i need THIS man
There's a big man
named George works
down at the carwash
Sundays, Thursdays.
George has even bigger
hands that make me cry;
Ten dollars, ten minutes
for 'Massages by George'.
pain/pizza
Skinned elbows
wrist broke
tother bruised
meds for pain like
toys for tots?
fucking bitch
stabbed that tetanus
IN; thank you
I said soft and
the most pretty
blue-eyed blonde
boy handled me
with care, wrapping,
instructing, making
sure I got those meds.
sleep type eat
meds sleep dream
no lifting therefore
no store and also
no dressing
no cooking
no wacking off
left over pizza for two
more days?
Saturday, May 06, 2006
past life - sick for sleep
Sick for sleep one
bright afternoon
I curled up with
blanket, with pillow
in the floor in
front of wide
glass doors; one
dog in the crook
of my knee, one
in the curve of
my belly, a third,
the alpha, her head
on my pillow,
nose in my hair
that was long then.
I slept good,
warm with the care
of my babies
surrounding.
Friday, May 05, 2006
i miss my youth
I miss my youth. I miss
my granddad and dad
talking. We had things
like porches then and
cicada instead of patios
and locusts; the latter
being misnomer actually
but people lack specificity
now and knowledge;
colloquial words gone.
My youth in all its
detail reduced to lore.
Maybe someday some-
one will study, find my
mah heart
translated by: gizoogle
Oh how
mah heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base n drums -
wapow! In a
shawty flutta,
tick-tick-tick;
desire
fo` mah southern
playa ta come, in hizzle
of passion fo` hot concrete
tha burn'n n tha blunt-rollin'
thereof, a
restlessness
ta write; so miznuch in
mah heezee feels fine
n sure, ready ta be
freed,
in search of
transcendence sweetly,
tha word "God" strangely
gang bangin' though so far
am I from tha niznorm it is
aloof, surreal
mislead'n ta
tha socio-gizzle damned
T-H-to-tha-izzat ever I learned
tha tizzerm: prevalent
social
ideology
n fizzle into
tha love of Marxist theory,
bare, buttock raised hizzle
ready fo` tizzle first
sting of flizzesh
on
flizzesh.
Oh how
mah heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base n drums -
wapow! In a
shawty flutta,
tick-tick-tick.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Jade
October came and
went having left
me cold when once
having fed well
on flesh quite sweet
of breadth and depth
the prior eve past -
grief buried in long
hard ohs, nothing
sweet save release -
desire quenched in
briefness, pounded
out the dates of death
of significance so
when
morning came, I
exhausted exhumed
the ghost bourn I
too many days.
I did not love you
do not, could.
You
are lovable in lost
ways and denial. So
sought I to befriend
(my conscious ever clear)
your aloof, cool smile
and yet, yes, know I that
sometimes in the end
all a good soul needs
is a good rutting fuck
even though feckless
I sought friendship
perhaps where I should
not.
october left me - cold
I can see
how it seemed,
my thirty-five to his
forty-three; I think
perhaps
he thought
me
a young girl in need
(of attention)
of warning,
"don't fall
for me" as if I
were still
the green
of grass,
not jade -
perhaps that was par-t
of the flattery.
then came january
January comes
wash, rinse, repeat;
acknowledge
not I draw you,
let me hide my
words as if they
never were never
more; have jade
mounted, silver
setting, solitaire.
Monday, May 01, 2006
I am not a poet
On the rarity I may profess
myself of the wordsmithing
fate, creed, ilk, passion,
doomed. I am not a writer
I am not a poet. I am an 'an':
American
Texan
Woman
Human
with the innate need
to express, forge my steel
of the heart, mind and soul.
ideally
If I could I would
write the day away,
devote all
my passions to
the seduction of
a single sole; his
downfall would I
scheme and plot,
no chance no
chance at all against
little me almighty.
Thusly he would
draw his lot.
But alas I cannot
so pursue I in
passions depth,
knowledge of which
I lack adept. I
will teach, I will
write and take my
solace in the odd
love on cold nights;
flesh on flesh find
my foe - falling
short of ideals yet
filling full my desire.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
I am
Strangely
void
of
words
and
thought.
Friday, April 28, 2006
calendar girl
Nostalgic for my youth and yet
it fell apart so fast,
spring and May could never last
so free. I do recall its' briefness
in bits and barnacles
clung too fast beneath the willow,
the magnolia
tree;
rain on the window once
soft
was I, young heart
still unhardened by death, divorce
secrets and lies. And in
this my late summer eve turn I
toward autumn sighs
in longings thought left aside.
Where will I be, come
into my December, old age calling?
Friends about? Lovers?
Or will I leave soft asleep, words
fallen from fingers by
the bedside as I read dark nights?
youth in tomes and
translate to thier time.
hard candy christmas
Sometimes I'm not so sure
if I stopped the meds too soon
but you were wide-eyed
screaming to the empty room.
I wonder if it was too soon but
no I wonder did I do it for
you or for me, for daddy, to ease
all the suffering all around.
Regardless in my heart I found
the stillness to put you down'
put you on the death drip
that sent you further off, away,
that put you in the ground
and I on the edge of maturity.
call me buttercup
One day one December eve, OH
one, no, two years ago, I stopped
to look about and upon my eyes
came to rest a particular realize;
the ex, past loves and lovers had
seemingly
finally
attached
to their one, the one, A one, umm
perchance purchased the dairy from
wit the pussies drank they milk, got
whipped creams, pies, Jell-O thighs.
(No I am not bitter, instead a pitch
hitter, playa of mischievery adept
all
in
fun.)
Any who, my then current screw (for
lover did he lack in luster and care
(mark one up for a gimme? don't we
all get just one goddamn gimme?)
So yeah, accused of "where is my
one?" then eyein' him, I replied wry:
"go
fuck
yourself,"
and said goodbye for e'en friendship
with the chap was folly. But I was
brought low tide then high and realized
it was okay abreast of all to die. For so
I set about my life's love's pursuits:
to write, be my best; hermetically aloof.
Then
came
him
whom I could not let pass without
my walls but within and gave free
passage to let run amuck and I
unconditionally believed in the one
and only me's ability to lay open,
learn to give and grieve, let pass and
then
came
you.
in recipricocity to decree much freely
like me. I knew not what to feel, give
only that I want and do and in confusion,
hermetic fusion withers, lacking, sadly
scrying as I blossom flush and sweet
in attentive gazes giggling, challenging
do
you
meet.
being blonde gone red
when told by a friend
I am not dense, to her
my reply? "Um...loss
of synaptic aptitude
and spelling." That's
being blonde gone red.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
blossoming
I knew not I
was lonely
until..you
opened me
up, put me
in the sun
on the
window
sill and I
drank you in.
it's a brave new world
We slave away at jobs all day.
At night we croon, open mic to the moon
and all that would listen to us;
the poet the ruler of the new dissention.
We peddle our wares, our cares
free for all the massed classes that feel;
we the poet to druggies deal.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Well I wonder
Why so suddenly afraid?
Wasn't I the one
that said tread
these waters slow,
you the one that said
be yourself. But
onward I row, go,
holding safe those few
words of which I fear for
circumstance, time
situation, distance
more so than for
their feeling,
meaning but only
cause it's you.
I would never
feel just to feel.
Not again.
Never again.
This is still madness, yes?
But I find I want
to crush, to get
caught
up in it all, let
it flow natural
and real; in
dappled rays
of sunlit days
that bring me
words that touch
that heal an ache
I thought a dream;
cherishment
it would seem.
Why though, Love,
so suddenly afraid?
Well I do wonder...
Thursday, May 18, 2006
baby at work
There was a baby today,
she smelled like baby,
smiled like baby, cooed
and moved like baby.
The baby tooted when I held her,
her eyes got big and round, "did you
do that?" I asked. and she smiled big,
not two months old, knowing what I'm
saying. She knew. Babies know everything.
madness
I whispered in the eve
...of madness surely...
this one
soon
mine
love.
So much to cover so
much to know, confer
a year point five seems
so far yet a drop in time
for me to lift you up
into my happiness and
comfort in my arms, arms
that span ten thousand
miles of blushes and smiles.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
come august
Come August...
I will drive 'cross town to the catfish place
sit outside in my languid Texas heat, feel
the sweet drip of sweat 'tween breasts full
sipping soft on iced tea, slowly spooning
shrimp gumbo laced with hot sauce over
white rice, brought to lips and tongue and a
mouth that blows to cool the divinity of it.
representation of self
We are not this shell
scars from flesh torn
age and dilapidation
the youth of taut tits
snappy hip chic cool
coy smiles askew in
light shadow angle
but our hearts bared
attitude loose free
fucked minds at ease
transcendence sought
seeking sleaze sleek
torn souls careless
whispers intentional
teases bots shine
spirit incongruent to
façade as well as
soul matched smiles
reaching eyes when
they rest on another
to whom they connect.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
that loves
she's
just a little girl
just a little...
girl
she's just a little girl
she's
just a little girl
little girl
little girl that loves.
how much to divulge?
In hesitance, fingers
pause for she lay quiet
before the crush instills,
still feeling things out
for she proceeds unsure
even of what she thinks
she saw in passing as
intent toward her, her,
but he called her babe
and she blushed, coy;
blushed last eve
late under the moon's
keen eye, slept
deep, hard was her
flushed brow and
pink cheek pressed
to cool linens, soft
as slow she tread
waters uncharted
drifting into dreams.
And if what she saw
was in fact intent,
will he let her stay
awhile in ponderance
poking, polling, asking
analyzing her way, her
sore heart governed by
low of need for surety?
And how much to divulge,
ever cautious of his own
admittance to skin like
parchment far too thin...
i think i ate the canary
Bloody-damn
hand
pain all 'round and
up the shoulder, no
more than two hours
at a time could I rest
in slumber sweet
complete
yet rose I sluggish in
sheepish
smiles; oh
I think I ate the canary.
sex and intent
I love my little roundness
of the hips curved 'round
to my navel and womb. Oh
I have abs, they're there
somewhere under a tummy
fed full on organic milk
fats that fill me out well
in stark contrast to legs
still long, still slim, still
not enough to balance
breasts too heavy for my
frame as I oft lean full
force toward door jams
and the hard ground. I
suppose I was never one
for balance but as I walk
in graceful swings of
sex and intent I get a good
stare as I giggle when
I fall demurely on me bum.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
three one sunday (unrelated)
I
Pain brings me to
shore upon the banks
of reality, hurt so bad
I turtle, feelings so
intense words won't
come, only silence.
All lay bare upon my
sleeve instead of pen.
II
I felt invisible
having been
checked out
found lacking;
his touch
endless hunger,
mine, a light
repast; snacking.
III
daydream believer
"Can I touch your hair?"
"Of course", she smiled
and closed her eyes
his fingers grazing
cheek then lips, eyes
wide he violated her
heart and desires.
Fingers on keys,
eye on life outside
her window brightly
toward you, thought
turned, daydreams
burned, she
gazed.
for the ex
Gotta give the man
credit for being able to come so far so fast
after my asking for divorce kicked his ass:
Most of all I recall
your anger yet
even so, that fades
and I can exist
in the realm of
friendship and care;
you are happy
(as am I), babe
on the way (writing
my life), new
wife, new career, (I
will eventually get
where I go as well.)
All I know is
in the end have you
always and forever
as my friend.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
ain't scared a you
I
watched
you
die
swore I would never
let another love pass
my lips without one
sweet kiss as if to say
I
checked
it
out
and can be on my way
but at least Love at
least I was brave, did
live utmost and true.
two unrelated poems
No longer am I that young girl
(if ever I truly were) yet open I
mind wide, heart unabashed
and fill I, belly full finally do I
crave to know to wonder though
always in some wonder I wandered
now though, consumed am I with
passion for it
need to devour it
in rapid ascension, to live, learn.
My boss came in from meetings
and said "oh it's nice and quiet."
I wanted to say it's always nice
when you're away, oh and quiet.
Instead I smiled and nodded
in affirmation, keeping the peace,
endangering self toward apathy.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
thoughts of you intrude
Its sad if one needs sad
stories to remind one,
make one feel but it brings
me to you. I did so intrude,
to question are you even
looking? when remarks
of finding self seemed excuse
so flippantly formed.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
fever
'pon my brow
'tween my breasts
salt sweat not tears
but the uncoming
of pain in shallow
breathes of sleep
and exhaustion I
rise quiet in night.
zen haiku
fever
bring to a boil
salt lightly
i need THIS man
There's a big man
named George works
down at the carwash
Sundays, Thursdays.
George has even bigger
hands that make me cry;
Ten dollars, ten minutes
for 'Massages by George'.
pain/pizza
Skinned elbows
wrist broke
tother bruised
meds for pain like
toys for tots?
fucking bitch
stabbed that tetanus
IN; thank you
I said soft and
the most pretty
blue-eyed blonde
boy handled me
with care, wrapping,
instructing, making
sure I got those meds.
sleep type eat
meds sleep dream
no lifting therefore
no store and also
no dressing
no cooking
no wacking off
left over pizza for two
more days?
Saturday, May 06, 2006
past life - sick for sleep
Sick for sleep one
bright afternoon
I curled up with
blanket, with pillow
in the floor in
front of wide
glass doors; one
dog in the crook
of my knee, one
in the curve of
my belly, a third,
the alpha, her head
on my pillow,
nose in my hair
that was long then.
I slept good,
warm with the care
of my babies
surrounding.
Friday, May 05, 2006
i miss my youth
I miss my youth. I miss
my granddad and dad
talking. We had things
like porches then and
cicada instead of patios
and locusts; the latter
being misnomer actually
but people lack specificity
now and knowledge;
colloquial words gone.
My youth in all its
detail reduced to lore.
Maybe someday some-
one will study, find my
mah heart
translated by: gizoogle
Oh how
mah heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base n drums -
wapow! In a
shawty flutta,
tick-tick-tick;
desire
fo` mah southern
playa ta come, in hizzle
of passion fo` hot concrete
tha burn'n n tha blunt-rollin'
thereof, a
restlessness
ta write; so miznuch in
mah heezee feels fine
n sure, ready ta be
freed,
in search of
transcendence sweetly,
tha word "God" strangely
gang bangin' though so far
am I from tha niznorm it is
aloof, surreal
mislead'n ta
tha socio-gizzle damned
T-H-to-tha-izzat ever I learned
tha tizzerm: prevalent
social
ideology
n fizzle into
tha love of Marxist theory,
bare, buttock raised hizzle
ready fo` tizzle first
sting of flizzesh
on
flizzesh.
Oh how
mah heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base n drums -
wapow! In a
shawty flutta,
tick-tick-tick.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Jade
October came and
went having left
me cold when once
having fed well
on flesh quite sweet
of breadth and depth
the prior eve past -
grief buried in long
hard ohs, nothing
sweet save release -
desire quenched in
briefness, pounded
out the dates of death
of significance so
when
morning came, I
exhausted exhumed
the ghost bourn I
too many days.
I did not love you
do not, could.
You
are lovable in lost
ways and denial. So
sought I to befriend
(my conscious ever clear)
your aloof, cool smile
and yet, yes, know I that
sometimes in the end
all a good soul needs
is a good rutting fuck
even though feckless
I sought friendship
perhaps where I should
not.
october left me - cold
I can see
how it seemed,
my thirty-five to his
forty-three; I think
perhaps
he thought
me
a young girl in need
(of attention)
of warning,
"don't fall
for me" as if I
were still
the green
of grass,
not jade -
perhaps that was par-t
of the flattery.
then came january
January comes
wash, rinse, repeat;
acknowledge
not I draw you,
let me hide my
words as if they
never were never
more; have jade
mounted, silver
setting, solitaire.
Monday, May 01, 2006
I am not a poet
On the rarity I may profess
myself of the wordsmithing
fate, creed, ilk, passion,
doomed. I am not a writer
I am not a poet. I am an 'an':
American
Texan
Woman
Human
with the innate need
to express, forge my steel
of the heart, mind and soul.
ideally
If I could I would
write the day away,
devote all
my passions to
the seduction of
a single sole; his
downfall would I
scheme and plot,
no chance no
chance at all against
little me almighty.
Thusly he would
draw his lot.
But alas I cannot
so pursue I in
passions depth,
knowledge of which
I lack adept. I
will teach, I will
write and take my
solace in the odd
love on cold nights;
flesh on flesh find
my foe - falling
short of ideals yet
filling full my desire.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
I am
Strangely
void
of
words
and
thought.
Friday, April 28, 2006
calendar girl
Nostalgic for my youth and yet
it fell apart so fast,
spring and May could never last
so free. I do recall its' briefness
in bits and barnacles
clung too fast beneath the willow,
the magnolia
tree;
rain on the window once
soft
was I, young heart
still unhardened by death, divorce
secrets and lies. And in
this my late summer eve turn I
toward autumn sighs
in longings thought left aside.
Where will I be, come
into my December, old age calling?
Friends about? Lovers?
Or will I leave soft asleep, words
fallen from fingers by
the bedside as I read dark nights?
youth in tomes and
translate to thier time.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
backlog
Monday, April 24, 2006
my heart
Oh how
my heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base and drums -
wapow! In a
little flutter,
tick-tick-tick;
desire
for my southern
summer to come, in heat
of passion for hot concrete
the burning and the quenching
thereof, a
restlessness
to write; so much in
my head feels fine
and sure, ready to be
freed,
in search of
transcendence sweetly,
the word "God" strangely
comforting though so far
am I from the norm it is
aloof, surreal
misleading to
the socio-god-kin, damned
that ever I learned
the term: prevalent
social
ideology
and fell into
the love of Marxist theory,
bare, buttock raised high
ready for that first
sting of flesh
on
flesh.
Oh how
my heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base and drums -
wapow! In a
little flutter,
tick-tick-tick.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
untitled
In shallow breaths
I breathe the breadth
of continuum; shake on
oxygen intake, eyes
a blur. I stir the heart
to beat
ba-boom
ba-boom
tick-tick-tick. Time.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
i can almost...
I think I can transcend
neither of the body
nor mind
nor spirit
but by bringing together
the whole to include Eros
and soul.
its just there behind my
eyes on the tip of tongue
in gentle sighs and aches.
point blank notly
I tend to know what I should say before go,
ahead, before I think a thing and how
it should
will
can
possibly
then probably or not
play out.
Oft times my mind cries dont go there!
but in rebuttal the heart demands but I want
I want
and she gets for she has got so little in
a priori and prior.
Therefore the question is
Alas poor Peach,
to allude or not to allude!
(As I hold the skull to light...)
Do I guide to the ends in mind or step
lightly back in laughter
let it be - although all and both
is done in laughter, coos, boom-ba-boom,
wants and needs -
Either screws the thing, the girl,
you see and yet
the being screwed is really in
the minds ability to follow
the domino affect through
(She has played out lifetimes never lived.)
Rather sucks for all;
but there is more than one path up to
the mountain tops scenic view: some
lay in gentle walks; others with rig
and rope; a spanking or two; maybe
scrabble.
Take a sip a tea, love, deep breathe.
My stress is money,
if I had some I would hire
a person to take care of it all...and me to boot.
I was just thinking, what was I thinking?
Ah yes, of my appetite, my voracious eyes;
my plate feels full in panic, I am well pleased
and yet my philosophy could be seen a tease.
I found, am finding myself
ego and id at play so soft it shines
on my face and glow of my skin.
Thats what you see, want, although
it probably helps that I have
tits
and ass
and legs that never end. oh yes
and grey matter enough to spar albeit brief
(for comes a shiny and I am off
on a different thought smiling.)
Can you
and you
and you
and yes even you accept me slightly -
non-conformist view?
Until ready, I cannot, will not
be consumed and even then
consumption may be past and beyond me
for I wrap up sweetly letting
the pleasure of words flow
through me.
Friday, April 21, 2006
flow
Is goddamn hot in this forge
'specially in the long
drawn
heat
of my blessed August in Texas.
mmm...
but my arms grow strong
my lungs breathless-ah,
my repartee slick like a tack
or is it sharp like grace. Damn.
But I strike hammer to raw word
and blowoh holy shit can I blow
molten golden sand into sweet, sweet
gl-ass.
yeah that's what I meant, glass.
(Though I admit to a keen distraction
of and by shiny things and naked ass.)
Wordsmith-y, Wordsmith-y
I toil
double bubble toil and trouble, I trouble
them thangs - fret no end -
iron into eagles,
rills into thrills flowing through
soft coos and giggles into
boom-ba-boom, (that's me heart)
on a pitter-pat groove I open
and the mountains spill
out.
struggle within socio-conformist bounds
I slipped full into
the moonlight waxing,
waning poetic. Not
everything is about
you
or you
or you
or yes, even you.
Just
some things that crowd
my mind; plate full
I simmer, stillness all
afire...
(Double, double,
toil and trouble;
Fire burn and
tummy a rumble, -God
I hope it's gas-
It is the east
Arise fair sun and kill
the envious moon.)
...or will my heart stretch
that wide;
or does it need reprieve.
But I ask you, Ra,
Is it really good to want
things?
Thursday, April 20, 2006
the healing art
My older brother who is younger than I,
finally do days pass when oft
you are found in nary a trace thought.
I twirl in my new found peace.
little ditty
One cannot scout out
to feed thy muse but wait
for offerings left upon thy plate.
Fluidity
In dedication to one who would term himself a lesser diety while I would name him Ra; he is too humble of his breadth of being and how brightly he shines;
Fluidity
When the day
is said and done
each of all our friends
gone
home having had their fun,
turn to me in thought
and send
a smile that
touches sweet, no end
and only
then is my heart complete
and may I sleep;
do not ever fear
my Gentle-Heart, to
want and yet not; I
am here and near
always
and in
this life let us cling
to friendship's folly
something fierce,
deep and calm, for
I am me, you are you, and we
are simply two
in a multitude of many.
Oh how
blessed is the concept of fluidity?
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
mercy
I was almost glad
(heart beating wild)
when the link didn't load.
I mean
what
the
fuck
was I doing?
But I deliberately copied
pasted
the link, read on.
I think I wanted
to cry, wanted
to remind myself
I know how to feel. That I
am genuine and not some
now and then
"hey what up".
seeds in fragmentation
I awoke at 5:33
face down
struggling in seemingly
a drugged-out stupor,
(I dont do drugs.)
my body restless from
a molting mind:
a)
I am not the brain you think I am;
conceptually I stumble brief taking
many readings to comprehend
on occasion and other times I could
explain
before
you get the first
word out.
I call it being blonde.
I call it being me.
b)
It hurts.
That you didnt.
Get to know me.
c)
There is something in your eyes
your words sadly somber, your
ecstasy comes across too cool.
d)
Today I am ravenous to feed
on thoughts and words and sinew
I can almost taste the blood of teeth
sinking sweetly into flesh anew.
I know the meaning of hunger.
I know the meaning of denial;
it's a river in Egypt land.
e)
She calls to
f
l
u
t
t
e
r
b
y
s, its in
the sweetness of her skin
the challenge in her eyes
the essence of her sighs.
They drink, she smiles
they fly goodbye.
She lyrically lay prone,
prophetic, poetic.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
three thoughts on tuesday
Call me thy Peach
I have four names
someday mayhap
I shall have five
and even still may
revere my youth
and drop to three.
Regardless of calling,
move I forward on
the wind
woosh-woosh.
Deja entre nous
Your specificity lay in keen
insightful remarks but off
and away, ambiguity does
suffice, endear, and
unlike my lover last when
you are here you are
here
when not you are near. He
was simply far-between-
away.
Alliterati
They call it crush cause
it kills, it hurts and they
call it falling for it feels
like skinned knees coming
clean; only may we heal
later, much later after
the embedding of concrete
bits in flesh picked clear.
Monday, April 17, 2006
lost my place
Forced myself to sleep
now lost is my train
of thought and sense
of relatedness to all.
I feel fuzzed, sweat
pooling tween breasts
too heavy, fans not
enough to quench
yet sure enough to
please...
with words and the
whir of blades humming
Sunday, April 16, 2006
passions do beat
My passions do beat
off,
breathe, sleep and eat
like Texas heat, my love
since I was just a babe.
Yet bring me soft waves
of temperate ardor now
and again that in solitude
I may recall how full
felt I in the midst of it all.
dreamt i of flesh
Dreamt I of
a smooth expanse of flesh
flush cheeks
as hands crawl across cool
soft sheets
to reach and
I awoke
so hot I could not sleep
throbbing
to familiar back beats
boom-ba-
boom was me and thee
tinkling
keys that faded off, sweet
my muse
was fed and hungers still.
logic of emotion
In visage
the dream
of which
young girls
lose sleep:
in Soul
warmed
I slept
sound for
Young I was
never.
up the mountain
I foresee want
on the horizon
in the distance.
There is want now
as much as allows
by knowledge
yet
intellect of sex is
only on the outs
when skittish
the heart folds
for it governs
this being taut.
I pushed the last
pushed till away
he went sooner
whereas perhaps
it may have been
later, but I in my
infinite wisdom
want a thing
cut
and dry,
May I temper
thee on the path
up the mountain.
Yet also may I
find my keep.
fly away
people come
people see
they get they need
they stretch, form.
then they move on
and it's alright.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
something was lacking
I remember when I had
an extra pair of hands
to help fold the sheets
only they never did.
I recall when I had
an extra pair of ears
to listen to my sorrow
only they were deaf.
there was strength
with which to carry me
weakened from the start,
there were arms
with which to hold me
less capable than his heart.
But mostly do I recall
the extra pair of eyes
to see me for myself
but they of course
blindly led me to
the decision to divorce.
funny where you find things...
Brief but in the mind
flickers bright thought
of something coming
on the make barely;
You, lid on contained
I swelling to the spill.
Both in flux, we press
the tease, tongue sweet
on flesh in the eves
we meet and breeze
sheets a tangle, please.
Friday, April 14, 2006
untitled
Tea grows cold
as I stop in reply.
My heart blocks
at points (protecting)
it knows not to pass
so I am only able
to want as deep
as I am let, yet
love as deep
as I require. I stop
in thought, fingers
on lips as I gaze
out across the sky,
tea cool and sweet.
I drunk deep, stretch
and form the words.
my heart
Oh how
my heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base and drums -
wapow! In a
little flutter,
tick-tick-tick;
desire
for my southern
summer to come, in heat
of passion for hot concrete
the burning and the quenching
thereof, a
restlessness
to write; so much in
my head feels fine
and sure, ready to be
freed,
in search of
transcendence sweetly,
the word "God" strangely
comforting though so far
am I from the norm it is
aloof, surreal
misleading to
the socio-god-kin, damned
that ever I learned
the term: prevalent
social
ideology
and fell into
the love of Marxist theory,
bare, buttock raised high
ready for that first
sting of flesh
on
flesh.
Oh how
my heart beats
loud lately...
boom-ba-boom,
base and drums -
wapow! In a
little flutter,
tick-tick-tick.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
untitled
In shallow breaths
I breathe the breadth
of continuum; shake on
oxygen intake, eyes
a blur. I stir the heart
to beat
ba-boom
ba-boom
tick-tick-tick. Time.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
i can almost...
I think I can transcend
neither of the body
nor mind
nor spirit
but by bringing together
the whole to include Eros
and soul.
its just there behind my
eyes on the tip of tongue
in gentle sighs and aches.
point blank notly
I tend to know what I should say before go,
ahead, before I think a thing and how
it should
will
can
possibly
then probably or not
play out.
Oft times my mind cries dont go there!
but in rebuttal the heart demands but I want
I want
and she gets for she has got so little in
a priori and prior.
Therefore the question is
Alas poor Peach,
to allude or not to allude!
(As I hold the skull to light...)
Do I guide to the ends in mind or step
lightly back in laughter
let it be - although all and both
is done in laughter, coos, boom-ba-boom,
wants and needs -
Either screws the thing, the girl,
you see and yet
the being screwed is really in
the minds ability to follow
the domino affect through
(She has played out lifetimes never lived.)
Rather sucks for all;
but there is more than one path up to
the mountain tops scenic view: some
lay in gentle walks; others with rig
and rope; a spanking or two; maybe
scrabble.
Take a sip a tea, love, deep breathe.
My stress is money,
if I had some I would hire
a person to take care of it all...and me to boot.
I was just thinking, what was I thinking?
Ah yes, of my appetite, my voracious eyes;
my plate feels full in panic, I am well pleased
and yet my philosophy could be seen a tease.
I found, am finding myself
ego and id at play so soft it shines
on my face and glow of my skin.
Thats what you see, want, although
it probably helps that I have
tits
and ass
and legs that never end. oh yes
and grey matter enough to spar albeit brief
(for comes a shiny and I am off
on a different thought smiling.)
Can you
and you
and you
and yes even you accept me slightly -
non-conformist view?
Until ready, I cannot, will not
be consumed and even then
consumption may be past and beyond me
for I wrap up sweetly letting
the pleasure of words flow
through me.
Friday, April 21, 2006
flow
Is goddamn hot in this forge
'specially in the long
drawn
heat
of my blessed August in Texas.
mmm...
but my arms grow strong
my lungs breathless-ah,
my repartee slick like a tack
or is it sharp like grace. Damn.
But I strike hammer to raw word
and blowoh holy shit can I blow
molten golden sand into sweet, sweet
gl-ass.
yeah that's what I meant, glass.
(Though I admit to a keen distraction
of and by shiny things and naked ass.)
Wordsmith-y, Wordsmith-y
I toil
double bubble toil and trouble, I trouble
them thangs - fret no end -
iron into eagles,
rills into thrills flowing through
soft coos and giggles into
boom-ba-boom, (that's me heart)
on a pitter-pat groove I open
and the mountains spill
out.
struggle within socio-conformist bounds
I slipped full into
the moonlight waxing,
waning poetic. Not
everything is about
you
or you
or you
or yes, even you.
Just
some things that crowd
my mind; plate full
I simmer, stillness all
afire...
(Double, double,
toil and trouble;
Fire burn and
tummy a rumble, -God
I hope it's gas-
It is the east
Arise fair sun and kill
the envious moon.)
...or will my heart stretch
that wide;
or does it need reprieve.
But I ask you, Ra,
Is it really good to want
things?
Thursday, April 20, 2006
the healing art
My older brother who is younger than I,
finally do days pass when oft
you are found in nary a trace thought.
I twirl in my new found peace.
little ditty
One cannot scout out
to feed thy muse but wait
for offerings left upon thy plate.
Fluidity
In dedication to one who would term himself a lesser diety while I would name him Ra; he is too humble of his breadth of being and how brightly he shines;
Fluidity
When the day
is said and done
each of all our friends
gone
home having had their fun,
turn to me in thought
and send
a smile that
touches sweet, no end
and only
then is my heart complete
and may I sleep;
do not ever fear
my Gentle-Heart, to
want and yet not; I
am here and near
always
and in
this life let us cling
to friendship's folly
something fierce,
deep and calm, for
I am me, you are you, and we
are simply two
in a multitude of many.
Oh how
blessed is the concept of fluidity?
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
mercy
I was almost glad
(heart beating wild)
when the link didn't load.
I mean
what
the
fuck
was I doing?
But I deliberately copied
pasted
the link, read on.
I think I wanted
to cry, wanted
to remind myself
I know how to feel. That I
am genuine and not some
now and then
"hey what up".
seeds in fragmentation
I awoke at 5:33
face down
struggling in seemingly
a drugged-out stupor,
(I dont do drugs.)
my body restless from
a molting mind:
a)
I am not the brain you think I am;
conceptually I stumble brief taking
many readings to comprehend
on occasion and other times I could
explain
before
you get the first
word out.
I call it being blonde.
I call it being me.
b)
It hurts.
That you didnt.
Get to know me.
c)
There is something in your eyes
your words sadly somber, your
ecstasy comes across too cool.
d)
Today I am ravenous to feed
on thoughts and words and sinew
I can almost taste the blood of teeth
sinking sweetly into flesh anew.
I know the meaning of hunger.
I know the meaning of denial;
it's a river in Egypt land.
e)
She calls to
f
l
u
t
t
e
r
b
y
s, its in
the sweetness of her skin
the challenge in her eyes
the essence of her sighs.
They drink, she smiles
they fly goodbye.
She lyrically lay prone,
prophetic, poetic.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
three thoughts on tuesday
Call me thy Peach
I have four names
someday mayhap
I shall have five
and even still may
revere my youth
and drop to three.
Regardless of calling,
move I forward on
the wind
woosh-woosh.
Deja entre nous
Your specificity lay in keen
insightful remarks but off
and away, ambiguity does
suffice, endear, and
unlike my lover last when
you are here you are
here
when not you are near. He
was simply far-between-
away.
Alliterati
They call it crush cause
it kills, it hurts and they
call it falling for it feels
like skinned knees coming
clean; only may we heal
later, much later after
the embedding of concrete
bits in flesh picked clear.
Monday, April 17, 2006
lost my place
Forced myself to sleep
now lost is my train
of thought and sense
of relatedness to all.
I feel fuzzed, sweat
pooling tween breasts
too heavy, fans not
enough to quench
yet sure enough to
please...
with words and the
whir of blades humming
Sunday, April 16, 2006
passions do beat
My passions do beat
off,
breathe, sleep and eat
like Texas heat, my love
since I was just a babe.
Yet bring me soft waves
of temperate ardor now
and again that in solitude
I may recall how full
felt I in the midst of it all.
dreamt i of flesh
Dreamt I of
a smooth expanse of flesh
flush cheeks
as hands crawl across cool
soft sheets
to reach and
I awoke
so hot I could not sleep
throbbing
to familiar back beats
boom-ba-
boom was me and thee
tinkling
keys that faded off, sweet
my muse
was fed and hungers still.
logic of emotion
In visage
the dream
of which
young girls
lose sleep:
in Soul
warmed
I slept
sound for
Young I was
never.
up the mountain
I foresee want
on the horizon
in the distance.
There is want now
as much as allows
by knowledge
yet
intellect of sex is
only on the outs
when skittish
the heart folds
for it governs
this being taut.
I pushed the last
pushed till away
he went sooner
whereas perhaps
it may have been
later, but I in my
infinite wisdom
want a thing
cut
and dry,
May I temper
thee on the path
up the mountain.
Yet also may I
find my keep.
fly away
people come
people see
they get they need
they stretch, form.
then they move on
and it's alright.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
something was lacking
I remember when I had
an extra pair of hands
to help fold the sheets
only they never did.
I recall when I had
an extra pair of ears
to listen to my sorrow
only they were deaf.
there was strength
with which to carry me
weakened from the start,
there were arms
with which to hold me
less capable than his heart.
But mostly do I recall
the extra pair of eyes
to see me for myself
but they of course
blindly led me to
the decision to divorce.
funny where you find things...
Brief but in the mind
flickers bright thought
of something coming
on the make barely;
You, lid on contained
I swelling to the spill.
Both in flux, we press
the tease, tongue sweet
on flesh in the eves
we meet and breeze
sheets a tangle, please.
Friday, April 14, 2006
untitled
Tea grows cold
as I stop in reply.
My heart blocks
at points (protecting)
it knows not to pass
so I am only able
to want as deep
as I am let, yet
love as deep
as I require. I stop
in thought, fingers
on lips as I gaze
out across the sky,
tea cool and sweet.
I drunk deep, stretch
and form the words.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
you're welcome
Sometimes my mind slips
in and out, amidst, between,
lyrical laughter no one but I
surmise the meaning of.
I saw death once
it was not a dream
but the absence of the ability
to write my heart
express.
making records, Jeffrey,
don’t you feel like - goodness?
Saturday, April 15, 2006
in the dance, slipping
I turn, become
in the dance, slipping
on the blood of my heart
about the floor
like grapes gone
to good wine.
And I smile to the sun
in the distance.
This is life, leave me not
to stagnate on the vine.
untitled
Tea grows cold
as I stop in reply.
My heart blocks
at points (protecting)
it knows not to pass
so I am only able
as I am let, yet
love as deep
as I require. I stop
in thought, fingers
on lips as I gaze
out across the sky,
tea cool and sweet.
and form the words.