Fly?
I’ve got these wings,
So why am I crawling?
I should be high,
But instead I’m falling.
I can’t take off,
My engine’s stalling.
I don’t know why,
But it’s appalling.
I Can’t Say “I’m Clean.”
This mask I show the world
These fingers I keep curled.
This smile that I unfurled
These words that I hurled.
The Smell of Apples.
A greenish hue hung in the air,
The smell of apples faintly there.
Clenching my fingers in my hair,
Frustrations lingered as I stared.
The tree’s fruits were nearly bare,
Few remained from a “fruitless” love affair.
Though the tree yet hung with some despair,
With it, myself I shant compare.
Whispers.
Whispers in my ear
Whispers in my head
Whispers fill my soul
Whispers filled with dread
Whispers long forgotten
Whispers just heard
Whispers I kept hidden
Whispers I demurred
Speechless
The flutter of wings
The flash of feathers
My hands reach out
But clasp together
I jump and wave
I try to reach
This dove that flew
That stole my speech
The Line
I’m drawing this line between exhaustion and insanity
This line-this road, I’ve been walking for so long
Feet worn to leather and bone
Cracked skin and dried blood
Just walking, walking, walking
Maybe I should run
Towards or away, I don’t know
To find a place to call mine, my own
I need a place
To lay this weary head
Close these weary eyes
Rest this weary heart
And open this restless soul
Into The Fray
Unsheathe this sword
-this blade
-this tongue
Let my words unhindered
,like bells,
be rung
Swing fast and forward
Strike deep and true
Let all my words
-my saber
your lies cut through
Untitled.
Under my breath, I swore
To the star leaving the sky.
Red lipstick on the door
Was a kiss goodbye.
Sugar Plums
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
Dance in my head.
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
Dance till you’re dead.
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
Above me in my bed.
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
This place that I dread.
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
This place is all red.
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
This place that I’ve bled.
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
Take this needle and thread.
Sugar plums, Sugar plums,
Sew up these words that I said.
“The Sun’s Verses Are Free.” So Cynthia doesn’t feel neglected.
A tear-drop from the sun
Drip-dropped through the sky
Tip-toed to the ground
Flip-flopped in a splash
Of orange-yellow clad streaks
To shine-sun soaked color
In a blanket of warmth
Putting nothing less than a smile
On my sun-bleached face.
