Daisy Chain

Stomping ground
Soft, green grass pound
Feet threading fine
In the dance of
The spirit wine
A flowering weave
Faltering and falling
In our bosom sleeve
Yesterday's rain
Cleaning out the pain
We dance
We chant
Without recant

Half-Slitted Eyes

I've seen
The wordy exchange
Of the obscene
People talking
Through
Half opened mouths
The talking cows
Promising promises
Without thought to compromises
Without any thought
To keep
The leveling heap

Through half-slitted eyes
Listening to the easy lies
Nodding my head
To the shaky ground they tread
Making no agreement
To the empty appeasement
Looking beyond them
To the clear horizon
And the people that truly care
With the sun in their eyes
The ones
That forget to tell
All the fruitless lies

Redefining Love

Love
was a mocking tone
Love
was a hollow drone
Love
pushed
Love
shoved
Love
punched
Love
always making
empty promises
Love
ignored my boundaries;
trampled on my
sacred premises
Love
left me
crying and weak
Love
watched me drown;
shoved my face further
into the water
to see me become
part of the meek

This has been the definition
Etched in the
Stark stone
Nothing good
To carve out
To hone

Love
Whisper
Gently into me
Replacing all my
Haunting dreams
Soothe my aching veins
May my tears
Become part of
The healing rains

The Girls with the Hollow Eyes

The gatekeeper warned me
  To enter beyond the perimeter
  would be my own demise
Once in the bowels of Hell
  you lose all sense of self

They are a mere existence
  direct consequence
  to punching love
Ghosts
  living on the edge
  of the abyss

One foot in
  one foot out
So close
  they can still
  hear the Hell hounds shout
As the fresh bruises heal
  their breath is given out
  for another to steal
Clawing hands always
  reaching out
  deathly grasp
  wanting to hear the
  death rattle
  the strong shackle

I'll extend a hand in
  hoping one will reach & grab
Allowing the pull
  out of the dreary
  weary
  constant
  drab

In the Trenches

In the trenches
Aiming for the sun
Shooting the sparrows
To see the finches
Nails torn
From scratching the surface
Knowing
There's no easy divergence
It's a fight
Of giving in
Of giving out
Of might
Wanting to sleep
Wanting to weep
With the dawn
Coming at a slow creep
Eyes on the prize
Finger on the trigger
Foxhole muddy
The horizon a wavy ghost
Deep digging digger
Trembling hands holding on
To hope
To grope
For another day
Because
There is no other way

*Survivors of Domestic Violence

Trigger Witch

3yrs ago
Trigger
Bitch
Witch
Sitting behind her desk
Pointing out all my insecurities
Without a glitch
I stammered
She remained calm
I stuttered
She supplied the balm
I cried
She caught my tears
In her palm
She nodded
Wrote in her book
She plotted
I loved her
I hated her
She was her
She was me
She
Telling me
Her tragic story
Drawing me in
Despite my resistance
To telling the sin
I ran from her 3yrs ago
My shadow

Flight of Angels

They leave in the hush of night
With only the clothes on their back
For the cold flight

Seeking shelter
Baby on their hip
Trembling, swollen lip
Eyes seeing through
Lost and numb
Needing one last clue
For the upcoming journey
Out of the tourney

Little baby Jane
Looking at the world
As if it's
Not yet insane
A soft smile
On her cherub face
Clutching her mama tight
Sucking her thumb
Ready for a good night

Letter From My Heart ... unfiltered

I'm a beast.  My mind sometimes forgets to filter and my heart runs wild like a feral animal on the loose; my mouth following suit.  I say it all wrong or I say nothing at all.  I think I sometimes back myself against my own brick wall.  I plan it all out with a finite detail similar to a mad scientist with her new chemistry set.  I play out all sorts of sordid scenarios and to be quite frank - they all end bad.  Then there are times I'm a little girl; sitting and dreaming with my pigtails swinging.  Don't worry.  Most of the time, I'm pretty good at shutting that little girl up.  Dammit! It's a craziness.  It's an insane laziness; afraid of success.  Afraid it'll be taken - ripped right of my outstretched hand.  Because you know what? That's what happened so many times.  I become afraid to dream.  So I push.  Push it all away before the final letdown.  I blast it away so fucking good.  Me and my six-shooting gun of a mouth.  Later I sit and bite my tongue till the blood starts trickling south.  Wondering if I said too much.  Railing at pretty, perfect people who have it all together.  Feeling so dirty in the sun.  So I sit in shadows - lamenting the touch.  Waiting for the end.  Never letting it even begin.  Waiting for the wave of goodbye.  Waiting for you to say I was never even worth it.  Sometimes I push it.  Just to see if that is indeed what you'll say.  It's not a deviant plan.  That kind of push is cerebral.  So instinctual.  Waiting to hear the rebuke for the shout at your constant insistence of me being beautiful.  Staying silent; waiting for the ugly to somehow spill through.  Waiting for you to see me as I do.  Shaking my head and spewing about how crazy you must be.  Internally thinking you're just too beautiful for me.  I had to fight for every damn thing.  Fight to walk.  Fight to talk.  Fight to be heard.  Fight at the absurd.  Fight for beauty.  Fight for my values.  Fight for the restless clues.  Fight for good dreams.  Fight for sleep.  Fight for the non-scheming things.  Fight to see the unseen.  That's what I know so fucking well.  The mother fucking fight that simply does not end.  So I wait.  And wait.  For the unfailing trend.  All this waiting.  All this debating.  Good God.  Here's an epiphany.  I'm waiting for you.  Because you're still here.  A stubborn ass cuss I can no longer rebuff.  Stronger and more stubborn than me.  I don't know how you do it.  I don't even know why.  My pale.  My bruise.  My dark.  My light.  My made up make-up.  My unmade.  My unclean.  My hardly ever seen.  You see me.

Preacher Man

He came a' calling as the
Black clouds outside swirled
As the
Black clouds inside me whirled
Every time he said the word
Suffering
He looked me dead in the eye
Medusa quiet and staring
Listening
To the holy call
In the lonely hospital hall
My third eye twitching
Stinging with the splinter in the middle
A label shining
I wanted him to leave
No longer able to listen
No longer able to grieve
I left with the whisper breath of prayer
Made my way to the cafeteria
That relentless preacher man
Found me there
He blinked a slow blink of knowledge
Reading in me
All that he could not learn
In his holy college
So
When I ran
He just smiled and nodded
Knowing
Even in anonymity
My heart was showing

Long Lost and Drifting

Here I am
Crawling slowly
Slowly
Out of the deep
Puffy eyes opening
To the light drifting in
A swelling innuendo
Of a foretelling crescendo

My future
Is full of questions
Finally
Long lost and drifting
The wracking thoughts of the past
I prefer it that way
For now

I'd rather have a
Future full of questions
Than a past that
Reminds me
Only of pain