Unravel

Unravel me pull me apart take away these walls I have built to the sky with sarcasm and pain, unravel me and see me for who I am and can be, forget my past forget the future for now you can finally see me and my history gathering around my feet and I pluck a memory sticking it behind my ear thrashing and pulsing you can see me for what  I was and what I am I am a girl discarded and forgotten and tend to be filler for a typical boring Friday night and my voice becomes laced into a soundtrack and my fingers create their own fanfare and you miss what I am telling you, you need to unravel me pulling way the threads of my pain my anger my sadness pluck the raven feathers from  my hair and set them free for these ghost birds are still crying out and I really can’t stop screaming late at night with the tears welling up and threatening to flood my sanity so unravel me and see me for who I am and can be a woman with a smile dancing into the night with stars and the moon perfect dance partners serving up the right ballad lacing my tongue and clouding my eyes and you need to unravel me and see what I was and what I am I am a woman lost in this world of many complications and distractions are an art form with every path leading to a dead end and shadows have teeth and fingers and mouths and they all are hungry things  and you miss what I am telling you, you need to unravel me pull away this wall I built with sarcasm and pain, chase away my ravens and see me for who I am.. a girl bruised by her past, but persevering for her future and will be… so much more than you can every dream

United (retelling of the Amazons)

United, we have been discarded

Left on the hillside, we have banded together

Girls that know more about death, than life

We stand, march forward

We will govern ourselves, protect ourselves

And be damn any man that says we can’t

 

United, we will gather this world

Under the moon we will see this world

Bowstrings taunt and we live

Under the glow of our matron mother’s smile

Artemis gave us her hounds, when the rest of the gods

Abandoned us to merciless rule of cowards and thieves, we marched forward

And be damn any man that says we can’t

 

United, we become strong

Matrons and maidens, we join hands

Building this border between these soldiers crashing on our shores

We are stronger, bowstrings taunt

We blow them over with the breathe of our mother

Strength in our unity, we will stand in force

Against men that only want to conquer us, and not hear us

We will stand strong

And be damn any man that says we can’t

 

They gathered at the doorway, staring the men down

The young woman had been beaten and her child bore the same

So they formed a wall, protecting her

Fists balled and nostrils flaring, spewing forth threats

Go away, go away from these doors for you are not welcome here

We will protect her, when you couldn’t, and show her kindness that you lack

And be damn any man that says we can’t

 

They had been here longer than the police

And they knew the streets like the back of their hands

Their mother’s mothers had formed this community

Passed down the knowledge, and they knew

They knew they could bring this whole world down

They keep their tongues taunt and a loaded shotgun behind the counter

These woman knew how to slay their own demons

And be damn any man that says we can’t

 

They have built these walls with their strength

These women are our teachers, our mothers

They are our leaders, and religious counselors

These women united, can protect us

United, they have become strong and will change this world

Ghost Hotel

Moth eaten and yellowed,

Her skin hung upon bones

Formed from centuries of cigarette smoke

Thin and frail,

Her body a loose spider web

Cluttering the doorways

While her shadow stretched

Across the porch

Slipping in between the cracks

Pooling into small puffs of dust

Dancing along the front door

Life played as a silent film

Flickering across her cracked lips

Settling into the wrinkles around her eyes

Memories remaining under nails

Freckling her hands in tiny scars and burns

She felt dry and brittle

Wavering in the summer breeze

As the ghosts of her family and friends

Skittered across her body

Like dead leaves scraping along ground

She had watched as they all left

One by one

Her face weighted down with the goodbyes

Sagging underneath the frown

Her eyes turned off as they all left

She still hears their laughter along the staircase

Feels their warmth underneath the broken chandelier

She stays in this hotel

Vacant and abandoned like her

With only a few pictures, love letters, and condemned sign

She lingers in this skeleton town

A spirit in the ghost hotel

Trapped in passer-by’s gaze

Lost in the recollections of her youth

Boy, you make me wish I could sing

Boy, you make me wish I could sing

Stand before your window serenading out my desire until I fog my outline against your bed and I want to reach out and touch your face even if I am only a ghost within your eyes,  even if I can only whisper in your ear I do exist and know in the morning you would continue on while I mourn out for your touch silently we have crossed paths everyday and never really spoken but watch you move,  water would envy how easy you glide along the street and you are the rain to me slowly sliding against my skin and lust beads into small droplets condensation becomes an emotion holding my breath hostage

Boy, you make me wish I could sing the Blues

Grasp and grate my voice against your skin until I have you on knees pleading for me and I wish to hug you pull in close taking in your warmth with my tongue radiating passion in circular motions within sounds and my name will gather on your wrists then fade away with the lights of the stage shining bright before hiding away like me hiding in your shadow  gasping for the light breeze shifting your hair as you read on the balcony, gasping for it to feed me some of your history

Boy, you make me wish I could sing Love Ballads

Croon for hours through your door so my words become vapor slipping under the frame and dancing slowly with yours until I am dizzy wanting you to see me outside a face in the crowd and I have to admit I catch myself thinking, wondering about you while trapped in my daily routine and wonder if you lust for me as I for you, if you even see me outside an outline, a ghost teasing your dreams and I yearn for you to know the color of my eyes or simply my name

Boy, you make me wish I could sing

Serenading to you until the tears pooled in my hands and I feed you my grief wanting to curl up against you and show you all of me a portrait of words and actions twisting and binding a history that wants to linger on your shore for a moment, catch the sunset in your smile and the sunrise in your eyes, and I am wondering if you are as lost in doubt and insecurity as me,  or are you as perfect as I believe you to be

Boy, you make me wish I could sing the Blues

and if I could,

I would dedicate this song to you.

Inter(ra)personal Affair (poem created almost entirely of Tori Amos lyrics… many years old but a challenge i gave myself)

She runs like the fire does, picking up daisies from in between dandelions placing them in her back pocket as she reaches up to embrace the mid afternoon sun for it had been years since she had been home and ran in these fields so she lays in between the remnants of three pegs where her grandmother says you can still see a few witches burning, getting toasty like the sunlight branding her skin until she could trace the pathway of where he visited and left her cold so she escapes into their favorite fearscape knowing the sights and sounds would pull her back down for yet another year remembering the first time she met him as a  little boy by the river fishing he the pastor son and her the daughter of a heathen goddess it was only natural they took interest in each other by the time the sunset, and by sunrise they met out back secretly where she would ask how his Jesus Christ was hanging and he would simply laugh saying your are the sweetest cherry in an apple pie

It isn’t long when the sights and sounds bring her back down for another month and laying in these fields of her youth and she can almost smell the stale sweat and sugary bubblegum of high school and she offered to unzip his religion but the pastors son was devout to the suffering and confided in her that he feels like he is floating in darkness when he goes home to the Norman Rockwell family postcard and he tries to find the return address so he can go away but his mother has fallen ill and is the antichrist screaming at him from the kitchen so they start to meet in the fields after school exploring the origins of Shakespeare calculating the lust of teenagers with a simple touch or kiss and she promises to curve her body around his and dreamed she runs into his thoughts from across the room as they sat opposite of each other in the lunch room

 

It isn’t long when the sights and sounds bring her back down for another day, while fingering his wrinkled photograph he signed before he enlisted his soul and body to the army instead of wasting it on his father’s faith which has been lost with the burial of his wife and he disintegrating into a bitter old man, while the son chases the sunset in heathen daughters hair she laughs against his mouth that she is never the fantasy and he only quiets her with another kiss and wipes away the tears telling her they would meet again and he would marry her after his tour and she sees him off in the fog clutching at her shoulders wondering if she had the room in her heart to allow him to follow his heart

 

It isn’t long when the sights and sounds bring her back down for another minute watching the sun slowly set she remembers reading about his marriage to another pastors daughter and cups their child closer to her chest knowing he wouldn’t be returning for them so she takes a bus out of town and wrote him a letter from a bus stop whispering out her love and how his bride was only pieces of her he hasn’t seen and she has shaved every place he has been removing the memories of the love he had forged between them since they were two children running along the fields of their youth and as the tears dry and chip off her face she remembers what her mother had told her when she was packing up the remains that Girl, sometimes you need to know when to turn the page.

 

It isn’t long when the sights and sounds bring her back down for another second knowing tomorrow she would be at his grave a few yards from his wife and children family and friends and she would be the red dress in the crowd wishing he had not falling into drug addiction or decided to drive home while under the influence and the heathen daughter would lay upon the pastor sons coffin whispering I will be wearing your tattoo, your name upon my inner thigh chanting for God to make her a day, to make her whole again.

 

It isn’t long when the sights and sounds bring her back down for that moment watching the outlines of her ghost running along the fields like fire does with a little boy stumbling not far behind knowing he lives on in their daughters eyes and can be heard in her laughter.

Tall Drink of Water

Shiver

Into a glass

Then you will see me

Dancing along the rim

Flickering in ripples

Collecting  your curiosity

In droplets of water

Sliding along glass

Laughing

My voice spills out

Flooding the room

Dampening your feet

Soaking your palms

Gasping

You choke on our memories

Clustering in your throat

My name tickling at tongue

Until you open your mouth

My shadow comes out

And with a gentle kiss

From ghostly lips

I fade away

Finally free

Louder than You, Louder than Me (lyric poem inspired by the song “Scream” by Sarah Bettens

I used to know I was always right
Too old to be cute, too small to mind
I sometimes say things really loud
I found out that volume can make up for content drought

Scream until you lose your breath
Force your way inside some youthful soul tonight
Teach him only you are right—”Scream” by Sarah Bettens

 

 

 

 

Hold your face

In my hands

I will scream

Scream louder than you

Louder than me

Then maybe you

Will hear me

Eyes open

Blinding this scream

So you will see me

Words resonate

Shaking you, trembling

You will fold over

Trying to hide

But maybe you

Will hear me

You pushed me aside

Harmless in my mundane stance

Malleable in my quiet nature

You stomped

To my stillness

And I screamed

Louder than you

Louder than me

So maybe you

Could hear me

Will not be taken

Advantage by your forked tongue

Forgotten

In your insolence

For you may be taller, bigger

Brighter, smarter

But I am louder

I screamed

Louder than you

Louder than me

And maybe you

Could hear me

Your face in my hands

Eyes meet

I want you to see me

Louder than you, louder than me

I will scream so you hear me

Hear me

Hear that

I am right

Alive

I want to be alive feel the electricity rattle my bones snap crackle pop flickering flickering flickering I am running after lightning chasing chasing chasing tumbling over my feet palms skinned and breath fogging my line of sight gathering up up up flying I will trace the clouds with my tongue and hovering I will come into view dancing in a forest of glass trees I will follow the cracks quietly quietly quietly while my heart thunders and booms I want to be alive and take you in coil you around my fingers gently gently gently until you can tango with my shadow as I am running running running after lightning snap crackle pop against an ultraviolet sky howling howling howling is the wind, my blood vibrates a soundtrack tickling against my lips and I want to cry out wildly gathering in loose words weaving weaving weaving them into my history I want to be alive feel the electricity hissing hissing hissing in my throat and pull you with me falling falling falling we hit the ground tumbling over our feet palms skinned and panting taking on an ultraviolet sky our hands reach up like glass branches pleading pleading pleading for rain and electricity rattles my bones snap crackle pop I want to be be be alive

Wolves (retelling of Red Riding Hood)

Flowing ribbons, twisting and turning in the wind

Teasing a few loose strands of hair

Blaise stands at the edge of  the forest

Fingers grazing the shadows of wolves that prowl

At her doorstep every night, scratching at the window

For wolves are always close to home

Tears are like fairy tales starting with once

Upon a time and happy ending seems fleeting

 

Flowing ribbons, twisting and turning against her hands

Blaise feels the wolves nipping at her skin

Shadows stretching across her skin, bars

Keeping her close to them

At night they howl, and it courses through her blood

Erupting into shivers and whimpers

Innocence is always lost when wolves are nearby

Red hues and orange sunsets, streaking down her cheek

Tears are like fairy tales starting with happy

Endings and lessons learned from villainous smiles, chance encounters

 

Flowing ribbons, twisting and turning falling to the floor

Wolves have a way of following, and Blaise ran away

Along meadows past the forest  past the river past the countryside

Until Blaise found herself blanketed in the concrete of the city

The lights can be so welcoming, pulling her in

That she forget wolves know how to follow her home

Graffiti outlined, their shadows stain her face

Down down she falls to the asphalt floor

Whispering what big eyes you have…

Fingertips stained in red hues and lights flickering

Captured in the wolves’ eyes and howling, howling

To better see you with

Tears are like fairy tales with lessons

Tucked in deceit and wonder, once upon a time

 

Flowing ribbons, twisting and turning around wrists

Lights blinding, and Blaise is bound

Wolves creeping around the hem

Slinking up her skin, teasing  whispers

What big ears you have..

Red mouth and gasping, she pulls their pelt

Over her body, growling  growling

To better hear you with

She captures the wolves in her palms

Wrapping herself in red, droplets stray

Along her cheek

Tears are like fairy tales once

Upon a time and simple endings

 

Flowing ribbons, twisting and turning neatly tucked in back pocket

Coated in red, Blaise takes the town lingering

In the shadows, she watches and listens

Gathering up innocence, she finds them

Howling howling she steps forward grin and all

Hands traces men’s faces and they whimper

What big teeth you have..

Giggling, she gathers up their flowing ribbons, twisting them

Turning them over her palms, and growls

To better eat you with..

For the wolves are never far from home

And innocence is always lost when they are near

Freaks of the Week (First poem I got published)

Flashing disco blues, reds and yellows filling the room of gyrating bodies close together sweat smothered scent-holding close to the musk of possible lovemaking
Just the freaks and whores, nothing more
Held together with leather and chains, latex and ropes all at the local drag show

Fetish festivals, leather carnivals all bound to the fold-up chairs in a row in front of the stage
Crowd ready for karaoke lip-syncing boys and girls mouthing words lips pressed to microphone
Singing to Catholic Mary and Silent Eve in sweat saturated shadows cling to skin
Holding their biblical whips hanging off belts displaying condoms of fluorescent

Shows of disco balls dangling from Marys ears breathless gasping for gyrating hips
Painted latex of gothic erotic dreams this brief glimpse of mischief and social stigmas from fold-up chairs
Mary slipping her hand into Eves as Eve tugged for recognition tying the class president to the head
cheerleader for one blissful moment no cheers or jeers or stares at prayer at dining room table

Release among disco blues, reds and yellows watching sense of freedom of shameless happiness
Girl in black gown to thigh with hooker boots clicking on linoleum dance floor of the backstreet club
Shifted her hips to the rhythm of old lovers fumbling with zippers attracting strangers’ eyes
Lilith appetite of beasts and eyes of demons hovering before Christian girls eyes

Showing what they don’t have ninety percent of the time free free free no crosses or pentagrams mark
her neck just black of tattoos on the back barb wire heart hers along with the claws with skin of former
lovers under her nails as musk scent of possible lovemaking filled her nostrils taking her to dreams of social
stigmas images of smoke filled her eyes as her cheeks remained blood-stained from last night

Lips line thin with wear and upturned revealing the teeth of your demise,sharp and pink stained
Fighting the shadows for little girls supposed to fear the night and the big bad wolf lurking corners edge
for Marys, Eves, and Liliths absent of disco blues, reds and yellows and gyrating hips
for they are freaks and whores, nothing more