I write down words so maybe I will write down words, on a northeasterly zephyr in lemon sour sky…
no need to ration your poems about poetry and how art is dead in a midnight veil you can’t seem to
make a rhyme count, make the one two punch spiked in only one swing an endless ribbon of a
No more new scars.
I’m just a TryingGirl…
Made up of idealism
Thou art so fair when you
circle ’round there, tearing up the
rusty dirt, the soil of good sir mockery
making all things flockery
feather v’s to frosty night.
Just like others, a maiden’s plight
zeros and 1s making history of the messy scene
sorry old concept aged like wine in a fine time
of fright and compromise
cast a crown shadow, crossing the meadow
maiden breath blue frozen air
with the last phrase of winter on good sir’s tongue.
having purchased this and that like a girl with money and
like the world could spin passed chunks of space sighing without the coffee
and my ankle hurts my ankle always hurts as parts of me are rotting right now as I am
got my new mug got carried away as body aches like I’m twice my age I must be because
My smallest problem is forgetting the coffee.
Hmmm. I’m really blessed for
the words well remembered you
rolled down the window in my AM
only Ford Mustang and
flicked a spent smoke
looking for the 5-0
thinking that time’s a line
that never ends with my hand
resting on the gear shift
your hand drifts and joins
control over blue metal America
made dream machine
we were the shit in that car
Pretending to be drunker than you are, the popular girl pushes with her
grandiloquent words and toast haired Catholic school lassies gettin’
sassy over Natty Ice and tight rolled joints of dirt weed,
redemption from the drug dealer in Cambridge that
the blond bitch and I tried to pirate that time
me laying on the horn, flaxen hair female slipping out the back and
we never put out for drugs or documented our sins.
at least I never did.
No mistaking the
wonderful glow of
content children and
the right thing done
maybe at last.
Multi-passionate, Investigative Creatress (aka artist)
survival is triumph enough ~harry crews
Sexuality, Spanking, Spirituality
My attempt to listen to every song I own
Transient Guests We Are
Happiness may be blue. But clarity is clear.
All Content Copyrighted. All Rights Reserved.
little bits of words swirling
Becoming the Artist I Want to Be - Fiction, Poetry, and Essays
Kicking and Screaming
Otherwise the night is too dark
Problems, Solutions, and Near Escapes
Mysteries: Love, Sexuality, Spirituality and Life
giving myself a good talkin to