Poetry 2009-present

August 2009


To stand across the street and to stare at the crosswalk blinking, on and off…on and off… to see how the misty rain continues to fall on top the black sea streets. To stare at nothing at all. No “life” moving. No light breaking through the chaste of clouds. To see the vines growing around the signs and the sides of the buildings, Crawling, clawing at progress in itself. There is no noise. No care horn, no stereo blaring out in some store. No people around to pollute the sweet sound of birds. Who’s songs only rises up towards heaven’s door. Life has left this place. Only rebirth inhabits here. No human enemy to demolish the forest and poison the lakes. Only the plants dominate this realm. Animals no longer held by chains and caged away. Their repression has rusted and crumbled away. Leaving a new priority. Water once overrun with bodily waste, now runs clean and clear as glass. Rain no longer has an acidic burn, oh no it is pure and sweet to the taste. The sun is no longer choked out by the smog. It is shining brighter and higher than ever before. The cloud no longer have a tainted color, oh no they are as white as snow. This world knows peace of a new era. People are long gone past. Their imprints are all that is left. Their mighty buildings that once stood so tall, that they once blocked out the sun, now lay in ruins at the foot of the mighty willow. Their high tech technology will be all but forgotten. This world will not know of who or what created these artifacts. Yet they were not first to come and they are not the last.


Missing You

I found something that belonged to you today.

I picked it up and placed it in my pocket.

I carried it everywhere I went.

Every time I placed my hand in to grab something I felt it there.

I would rub my thumb against its smooth golden edges pressed there near my rough and callous skin. Feeling its omnipresent self, comforting me.

Throat closing in, pains in my chest growing stronger.

Salty tears rolling down my cheeks .

Lips quivering, wanting to reach out so badly and feel you there.

I feel so badly that I did not shed a single tear that day until now.

I felt nothing that night but the hallow shell of my existence.

I could not bring myself to be weak in the face of lost.

Staring down at your cold frozen, stiff lifeless body.

Either of you, one peacefully blue and the other frozen in time with a face of horror.

Dying only a month between one another, made everything all the harder.

Sometimes I swear that I feel you here.

A loving hand resting upon my shoulder.

The faint scent of your perfume.

Your personality is embedded everywhere I look.

Your smile takes form mid-air.

I miss you.


Devil’s Bride

Once upon a dark and dreary night; there came a man a tapping, tapping at my bedroom door. When I went to open it there stood a man no more, but in his place stood a ghost.

Ghoulish as many have before, I welcomed him with open arms.

Come I said to my dear guest; he took his horrid ass to rest upon my bedroom floor.

What brings you here to my abode, I inquired from my guest.

To bring a bride to her marry rest, to take the place of the last one’s death.

Though she was a beauty, though her eyes did shine she held no life in her mind’s eye.

Though she was educated she was not smart, though she had a heart it did not beat.

You on the other hand,

your heart is full of life.

You are the one to come and be my wife!!

I looked on he, who had said such a thing,

I looked on he who was the king.

His skin was dark almost black, I could tell his heart did lack.

His heart lacked life, his heart lacked love, his heart lack all of the above.

January, 2016

As I walk this ol’ back road

I hear the crunch of fallen leaves beneath the soles of my boots

I feel the gravel slipping and sliding with every step I take

The winter air cuts through me

Chilling me to the bone

With every breath I take it feels like inhaling shards of glass

In the distances, I hear the joyful song of birds

Their song sounds so sweet, but their song is not for me

I have a melancholy tune whispering to me

The trees that surround me cannot shield me from the pain

Their branches stretch out to embrace me, but they cannot comfort me

As I push past them, they reach out further grazing the top of my head

I know they have good intentions, and I do not wish to hurt their feelings

Yet how can I form the words in my mouth to explain the war, and carnage in my heart

I wet my lips to yell to them my thanks, my appreciation for their concerns

However, the words have stalled midair, formed as stalagmites instead

I turn my back on my gracious and kind evergreen friends

I run further down this road of memories, trying not to lose my footing as I do

I do not stop until I reach the water’s edge

There in the distance, through the fog of my emotions, I can see you

You are putting your boat into the water for the last time

I try to jump into the water to swim across, to join you

Nonetheless, as my feet leave the ground I am met with an invisible force

I fall to my knees knowing I am trapped on this bank

Knowing I will never hear your booming voice talk of fishing, of cars or life in general

Knowing I can never look upon your face again

Knowing there will be mornings where I search you out

Knowing there will be nights that I will stand by your wife comforting her

My heart falls from my chest and shatters on the rocks below

My tears begin to fall for the last time

I wipe them away from my beet red face

The chill of the wind sneaks up on me  

I pull the bottom of the Iditarod sweater down

It is exactly the same as the one you own

All I can do is sit and observe you from my prison

Memories seep from my veins

Vivid pictures of you lay softly in the back of my mind

You have gone to rest in the arms of angels

There are days to come that I will wish you were here

Days I will want you to comfort us through the obstacle in life

These thoughts cause me anguish, so much so it feels like a bullet tearing through me

In the days of sadness, I will picture you

I will remember my burly father

I will remember that you were a force to be reckoned with

I will remember the man I pretended to fix cars with as a girl

I will remember the gentle soul, who walked me down the aisle to give me away

I will remember the goofball

I will remember the husband you were to my mother

I will remember always that cancer cannot take away the love you gave us

My only job now is to remember and never forget

Rain will become nothing but tears to me

Tears from a man who wasn’t good at sharing emotions

The man who I am emotionally alike

The man who was in pain but was strong enough he never let it show

The man who would much rather suffer alone than burden others

Everything will remind us of you

We are not afraid to cry

We will pretend to be okay everyday

And it will be hard to deal with the pain of losing you

We will force a smile, even when it does not want to come

The wake comes off the bow

The fishing line reeled in

The anchor is lifted out of the depths of my sorrow

Another tear softly falls for him

I whisper to the wind “Please carry a message for me, tell him every day I love him”

I beg the lake to take care of this man, who always put others first

I ask the trees to give him shade when the days are hot

I pray to God and thank him for choosing him to be my father.

This is NOT goodbye this is

Gone fishin’ be back soon

I love you, daddy.

January 21, 2015

The Birds

When we visited cousin Ned

Out on his farm, miles from any other

We did not expect it to suddenly start raining birds.

They swarmed in black like the night sky

Smothering any form of light

Making it hard to find an escape in that barn.

We stood in fear

Watching the blackness over take the entire barn.

The horses in their stalls, became so flustered from fright

That they stood up and began dancing

Trying to crush those devil birds under their hooves.

The barn yard cats flew from the rafters

Trying to catch the birds in mid air

Using their paws like an umpire’s glove.

The birds glided and swirled like leaves in the wind.

They gnashed at our exposed skin as they,

Cloaked us in their infinite darkness.

We ran for cover as if on fire

The birds with blood red eyes,

Closed in on us as we ran

Dogging barrels and hay stacks.

Just as we dove for the cover of cousin Ned’s John Deer,

I looked over at my sister

Making sure she was keeping up with us.

That’s when I noticed that,

Her eyes bulged out of her head

Her mouth gapped open like a fish out of water

She began screaming like a banshee

A raven had took a swan dive straight for her.

It makes sense now looking back

Her hat was huge and made of straw

It was easily mistaken as a net resting upon her head

The bird swooped in knocking it clear off

She had started crying and waling on like some cow

We had to stop her carrying on like a baby so…

Ned had to slap

He slapped  her so hard our momma had to feel it

It took all my strength not to strangle her right then and there

It was by the skin of our teeth ,

That we even made it out alive that day

If Ned hadn’t found that loose board along the wall

God knows what those birds would have done to us

We crept out of the barn like thieves in the night

But the only things we took with us were the clothes on our backs

*Ned had to torch that barn in order to cleans his farm

Of that ominous day

I still don’t understand what drew those birds there

I don’t understand why they chose to come on us like a plague

It haunts me to this day.

Mutt 2.0

November 2014


I’ve known ancient drums:

I’ve known ancient drums as old as time, red skin men sending praise to the Great Spirit high

I run beside my spirit guide, driven by the steady heartbeat of our Mother Earth.

I bathed in the crashing waters of a tropical waterfall.

I bore my family crest across my chest in the heat of war.

I have looked out across the plains driven by a trail of tears away from my homeland.

I have heard the ancient drums;

   Of neighboring tribes,

   The La Bumba of the Island bongo,

   The upbeat pounding of a rowdy Irish pub.

I’ve known ancient drums.

Strong ancient blood, thinning over time.

My heart yearns to go home to those ancient drums.

My soul hungers to know those roaring waters once more

To walk along to crystal blue waters of the Caribbean


I reach up and touch my thick and wild hair and wonder

I wonder where it came from…

Did it come from a hearty Irish Brew?

Did it come from the white foams an island dream?

Did a witch doctor pluck from his magic smoke, to place it here upon my head?

I press a thumb to the soft skin of my wrist,

I watch it change colors.

Shifting from white, to yellow, to red and then settling somewhere in between.

I wonder what color I would bleed,

If I were to prick my finger on a thorn as run though the forest.

Would I bleed a copper red like the clay that pounds beneath my feet?

Would it spill in swirls like schools of fish,

Or would it spring to life with a haughty roar as it lands upon the foliage?

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes forth.

There is a war happening within my throat.

Ancient tongues fight for dominance.

When I swallow the salty air to settle the burn from their war camps,

A sound escapes…

It falls on my ears,

It’s a rough and muffled tone.

It’s a blend of all three ancient sounds.

The pounding of a water drum.

The scratt tat tat of a Guiro.

The twinkle of a tin flute.

I wonder which ancient blood will win in the end.


I remember visiting my bisabuelo y bisabuela

They lived in Florida at the time.

My bisabuela had plastic covering all of the furniture.

Their house was painted yellow with tall palm trees in the yard.

They had musical instruments hanging on their walls.

They had Guiros,

They had maracas,

They had a clam shaped instrument that I remember taking off the wall to play with.

I remember my bisabuelo cooking us Pernil.

My bisabuela mashing plantains in her mortar.

She spread the mash on a corn husk meat to make pasteles.

I remember my bisabuela sucking her teeth

In disapproval when we sat on the couch.

So we sat on the floor for the rest of the visit.

I remember her saying “shhhh callate tu boca, estoy viendo mis novelas”

The upbeat sound of bongos and the rhythm of a trompeta

The pretty Hispanic women yelling at us through the screen,

Crying and carrying on over this and that.

I was too young to understand the fundamentals of dramas.




Little sister love

Lizzy is my mini me

Protected always

Book Nook

Quiet space, hot tea

Brand new book just for me yay

Love me some good reads


Alexander Paul

My sweet loving Superman.

Forever I’m yours


Home grown country fed girl

Boot scootin four wheel ridin, good times

God bless southern girls


Warm weather cool calm water

Bait my hook cast my line fish

Largemouth bass hooked on

White Noise

Listen to that sound

Crickets Chirping good night sounds

Drifting off to bed


Whispers To The Wind

I stand still as the ground takes hold of my feet, anchoring me here. The branches of the trees reach out their arms, welcoming me. The wind caresses my body, leaving me tingling from where he has touched. It’s there, I know it. I feel it deep inside me, growing.


Southern Living

How the moonshine burns down my virgin throat.

Born in Georgia, raised deep in the forest.

Kissed by cold, Real Tree and dirt cover my coat.

My rebel heart will never come to rest.

There’s a little bit of devil in my brown eyes.

Cowboy boots, sweet-tea-drinking Southern girl.

Blue jean hanging farmer’s tan man I spy.

Climbing up in your truck taking a whirl.

Summertime is what I crave, waiting days.

Pontooning on Lake Sinclaire, sun setting.

Good friends, good music, late night passing in a haze.

Soft cool breeze blowing while I am sitting.

These are my roots; this is where I am from.

True hospitality, travel and come.


The Girl

Abby is the type of girl who has pizzazz.

Believe in books because don’t need a baby.

Chastises many for she’s locked in her own box.

Dawn brings her to a brand new deepest low.

Evening is when she practices inprov.

Fairest young lady, master of jujitsu.

Gorgeous women stand the very tallest.

Happily ever after is what she wants; it sways.

Indigo eyes hold her secrets colder.

Jasmine flowers can’t calm her, just a tranq.

Kind girl broken down makes her brain go pop.

Loveless lonely all she knows is no bueno.

Manana, she will be new; now she’s broken.

Night is the color of her own boredom.

Opening her heart just to begin to fall.

Playing her part in this world colored black.

Queen she could be if only if she made hajj.

Raven wings spread wide to fly to Fiji.

Starlight shines down looking for Messiah.

Unbelievable, her heart is turned off.

Violet flames lick up her body; she is ablaze.

Wisteria hanging low, her favorite flower bloomed.

X-ray her heart and you will find zodiac.

Yellow flames dance along the way in the catacomb.

Zelda-crazed child wielding a giant bazooka.

“The Un-Named Savior of All Political Force-fed Hipsters of Gen-Y”


There sits a girl who has the galaxies trapped inside her indigo eyes.

Her raven wings spread open to fly away.

Landing softly on the de



                  Ing corpses of mainstream conventions.

If you x-ray her heart, you will find the Zodiac.

Long and graceful fingers wrap round her last symbol of conformity.


The length of there slithering snake that chokes the truth from her breath. Only allowing forcefed words to slip past her plump ruby red lips.

Breaks away

And its lifeless body C









                                                                                                  d u s t

                                                                                                            Under her boot heel.

Violet flames lick up her body.. She is ablaze.

Morphing her into something new…

Burning her to a crisp and spitting her out like a phoenix.

Starlight shines down on abandoned streets; she roams them soundlessly looking for messiahs.

She feels that this robotic system of politics has strayed away for far too long.

Night is the color of her hidden weapons. She is a wingless, sinful savior.

Slowly, silently creeping into suspecting minds.

Going to the highest mountain tops, showering the valley

                                                                                               Below in a blanket of red, white, and


Freeing them from hell on Earth. Opening their eyes to the ways of the world, outside their grayscale cubical.

Just a

Zelda craze child wielding a giant bazooka,

She’s just a Black Ops belly crawling behind enemy lines.

Her mud covered face has been Left 4 Dead,

Holding tight to the side of a skyward bound copter, this war is a Farcry from over

This is a new kind of Modern Warfare.

Trying to rise above but it is hard to keep your head above water when you have a cinder block anklet.

Secrets are held deep inside the catacomb of her soul; she will not die.

She will not conform

She will not follow orders

She will not bend to their will

She will not be another statistic

She will not become a government clone

Blocky square frames sitting on slender noses

Tie-dyed tanks hanging from bones

Toms draining all the money


Like the rest of society

Her dreams are overwhelmed

Drowned out

By the popular

By the favored

By the prized

By the idolized

By the hive mind


June, 2009


Cold is what I feel…

I feel it’s frigid frozen fingers firmly grasped around my throat…

I feel the burning as it begins to leave frost bitten bruises underneath its hold…

It chokes out any air, replacing it with its own chilling concoction of self-loath and hate…

The coldness has stolen my heart and set a frozen replica in its place…

It has trapped me in a timeless prison…

I am not dead, nor am I living…

I see and hear all, however I am unable to interact…

Unable scream out for help…

Unable to plea for someone to take my life and save me from my cage…

The coldness is like a poison, it takes over my body

Replacing my blood, my nerves, all the way down to the atoms in my cells

The worst part is the brain freeze, it is not what you may think it is

The brain freeze I am cursed to suffer is like no other, it comes not from a frosty treat

It is a seedling of hate, of depression, of anxiety, pain, worry and mistrust

It is planted deep within my cerebral cortex where it has flourished

The seedling has overtaken me with its poison

It has drunk its nourishment from my fears

Taken my insecurities into its cells, a twisted version of photosynthesis to make its food

There in the darkest depths of my mind, it came to life

It waited for the dead of night to whisper in my ear it’s lies

Almost like it was reading me a bedtime story, yet instead of white knights and happy endings

All I got was demons, ghost and ghouls tearing my soul apart to feast upon its innocence

There in my cerebral cortex the seedling grew into the invading frozen weed it is today

If there is any shred of innocence left in me, it is hidden far away

So far that even Prince Charming would not be able to find it

For me there is no fairy godmother to make me the belle of the ball

For me there is no genie in a bottle waiting to grant my every wish

For me there is no happy ending, I can never escape my tower walls


April 2019

They say that blood is thicker than water

But what happens when blood becomes a waterfall

Crashing deep into chasms of your soul

Eroding away your foundations

Carving you from the inside out

Turning you into the next Grand Canyon

You lose yourself become another tourist destination

No longer authentically you

Plaster on a smile capture the perfect pic for your Instagram feed

Living your life online because it’s easier to convince yourself everything is fine

Add a filter here, a Facetune there

Social media makes it easier to edit your reality

Your mental health becomes another casualty

Not wanting to admit something is wrong

Even though the black hole inside your soul grows larger by the day

Wanting to believe in your alternate reality

Choking on the algorithm

At night you can’t hide

The darkness engulfs you

Thick like molasses, you can’t move

Your demon sits on your chest

Can’t breath

Can’t see


Open your mouth to scream

No sound escapes

Feel a pain in your brain


Sever the connections to your rationality

Watch out Alice you’re falling now

No white rabbit here, only vantablackness

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