Unrest

Third night now- No sleep- To wrap its flannel arms around me- Feeling its crepe-like fingers caressing my dreams. These years of bedtime prayers- O healing, answer me in this room- Lit with strings of violet twinkling lights- Every night I begin again- Faith whispers, that with the rising sun, tomorrow will be different. Maddening…

Defined

Look in the mirror, see your enemy there. That one moment in your life defined you. There has been no transformation? You were never in a cocoon or a seed under a willow? Look deeper now. You were born old and withered. Innocence never faded, for guilt you rode in on. The storm upon the…

Heavy

What your feeling is “the heavy”. Like a brick sitting on your chest, squeezing your heart. As a strong hand would squish a ripe tomato in its grip. The heavy can be no emotion at all or hundreds all at once. I have a heavy heart, a void rather where one should be. Now I…

I Exist Trapped

The palace of Injustice- Breath is just a clock ticking. Without love, your heart is just a wind up toy. The chasm of Sorrows- The channels of Pain- Human beings, God’s beloved virus. Billows of smoke expelled from my lungs, escaping my mouth like a prisoner from a chain gang. I exist trapped in a…

Typed and Tossed

I am relieved to have you- Out of my world- I must be honest- I never loved you- Suppose I wanted to test it- Love- Just to acquire, try again- At companionship- There was no joke- Your conversation- Bored me to tears- Years of contemplating- Conclusion being- I prefer my own company- You rarely cross…

All good books have one thing in common – they are truer than if they had really happened. – Ernest Hemingway

An autobiography is a book a person writes about his own life and it is usually full of all sorts of boring details. – Roald Dahl

Creativity is merely a plus name for regular activity. Any activity becomes creative when the doer cares about doing it right, or better. – John Updike

I come here to speak poetry. It will always be in the grass. It will also be necessary to bend down to hear it. It will always be too simple to be discussed in assemblies. – Boris Pasternak

Bukowski

O, We Are The Outcasts ah, christ, what a CREW: more poetry, always more P O E T R Y . if it doesn’t come, coax it out with a laxative. get your name in LIGHTS, get it up there in 8 1/2 x 11 mimeo. keep it coming like a miracle. ah christ, writers…

Pray and Wait

Waiting and praying for the sun to appear. I sit in shaded places. My bones shiver under an overcast sky. My hands fumble over the rosary beads, whispering my petition. I keep my eyes fixed upon the heavens, ever waiting for a parting of the clouds. No sun- lightning following me around- Days are gray…

Dark and Blue

My dark and blue days are back. They found me once more- I had the audacity to think That I had broke free of them. Stupid, stupid girl- You can’t hide from yourself. I slip down into the murky waters. Flailing about- The sun seems so small and far away. The ever present clouds surround…