Click to watch Poetry in Motion
If I Could Make Forever Come True…
a reminder of myself to think about anything but you
Even where I stand today I fall.
I crumble to lay at your feet, curled in a ball, melting into the pitted floors of my stubborn reflection.
i am broken in the mirrors. broken.
i remain strong as its all i can do.
i fight each day against myself much more than you.
I am with me, you are not… you have hidden from responsibility of seeing what i will become – when i am gone.
forever.
take for granted my dependence as a child inside.
take for granted the furor in which i grasp at you when i should listen to God and fly.
You were my captive and I knelt as your enduring slave, wanton desires wanting us to play. i enjoyed every bit of it. then the fists flew and my sense of security knew it was never going to find itself a home with you.
i cried until my green eyes turned pale blue, draining my soul of emotions on the streets i turned as cold as i could to survive what i had to do. prison opened my eyes to the lies and now i’m back up on my own and sure enough left all alone.
i’ve felt the inner touch of a demons hand, and it made me shiver with goosebumps and anticipation — i developed my methods of coping inside a moment of masturbation.
I tore out the heart of my child whose dying where my children and she used to play.
Then passing with my father was the remainder of my love -it was ALL buried in May.
I dream of digging inside the same grave, laying my arm across the only love unconditional her life ever made.
Going to the forever sleep there in the same place he lays.
Instead i walk alone and afraid, and God cant convince me i’ll see him again after all this is over & i get out of this maze.
Addictions are the least of my worries, my enemies are disguised as my friends.
hating and cravings are the status quo of a carpe diem.
A woman stalled by the libido of dangerous men. they call it romance, she calls it sin – either way its good, she says, when you put it in.
i miss me
I’ve left you fall
I saw you last night, standing on the edge of my world. Screaming in your rage about how our future is, and I watched you silently as you fell… backwards…
I laughed at the shock in your eyes, the surprise in your gestures as you reached out to me and I waved goodbye….remembering the times I reached out to you & you hit me…
I see you land beneath my barren cliff of my existence… your ground crumbling beneath the weight of your realization that I’ve left you now, and you can’t reach me….
That I can whisper to my dreams “Hello” again and try to find myself again, in my newness that I saw last night when i went home and looked in the mirror….
Confessional Prayer of a Nymphomaniac
I have the dreams at nightSo in the daytime I bump the corners of exhaustion Sinking disappointment is a gutted feeling & I am guilty as I look at my life and I know I’m far from perfect but still I blame you for hating myself I think it’s because you made me reach orgasms like I never had imagined before? Or is it because I became your slave? and now I hate you for taking my sex away You belittled my devoted worship as I gave you what you wanted upon demand I got down on my knees and was eager to please whenever you called and along with whoever you brought I never thought your wishes unreasonable when I was subservient and pleasing your needs All I ever asked… all I wanted… was simple by comparison I only wanted you to put your arms around me and hold me And Say ‘I love you’ to me (And mean it) I wanted to make love not just fuck the pain away Like when skies turn purple in cosmic energy of passion. I wanted infatuation to be so strong that Mountains would rumble And seas would glow from its awesome force I wanted to feel like the ground might crack beneath
me as I find a connection with such pure intensity and profound sexual chemistry I wanted you to accompany me lay naked beside me when heaven gleams its light upon our skin we feel the heat of climax from deep within The most sensitive erogenous secrets of sin My Inner Thigh quivers awaiting the touch that will make me burst Bodies ignite desires Thirst Ecstasy Soul Fires Sweat and steam rising from our flesh I drink of you You bathe me We crave these moments we are Breathless our Hearts thump Heads spin Hands shake Stomach trembles Legs tingle We laugh together At our Toes That curl Until morning (I think we both came at exactly the same time) This feels just right but more than that – this is perfect) So I wonder… Maybe … When I created you last night inside my mind & masturbated to relax forget my secret fears & unwind… Did God heard me scream in orgasms? & if so,then what did He think of me when He witnessed my insatiable lust for my Immoral Imagination causing great arousal and strong desire for sex (within my own mind) with the only person I trust - me - and sometimes I can’t even count on me so I start to feel self-conscious for a moment… sorta like an uncomfortable embarrassment Then I notice the humiliation I feel And it turns me on I begin to get damp in the panties I don’t wear & I touch myself softly & I wonder “Is my pleasure the work of Satan & my idle hand?” oh yes, touch me right there… It seems like I want it more each time & the more times I want it I want more More than just my fingers tickling my clitoral hood I feel it tingling more & i ponder should I want more than my own hands? I contemplate it & I surmise that I do want more in fact i want it all if I can find the right man (or woman) Lets face it - I just want SEX I want hard Deep Rough SEX Dirty Sweaty Loud Orgasmic Wholly creative crazy SEX With Bondage whips & Studded paddles I’ll gladly wear a bit gag & bridle or a rubber ball in my mouth with Chains & No more chastity belts but human cages equipped with pulley chains & Velcro on felt Leather restraints Full covered hooded masks Yeah – KINKY HARDCORE PRIMAL SINFUL SEX With a spanking bench at a gentleman’s club I’ll get down on my knees but won’t you take the time to tie me up, please? I admit I’m into the domination of master & slavery (Dear God, who is gonna save me now??) My therapist didn’t say it, but I think I’m a nymphomaniac (with a fetish) …If I went to meetings I’d probably sleep with my sponsor ‘cuz you know he’s a freak like me! I think if God had stopped by to visit me I’d know why I crave restraints, But with so many times I screamed ‘Oh God’ in my past… I ’d think he would’ve been here by now, but then again… what about the times that I actually prayed? hrmmm… Maybe He did come to see me but I was masturbating in the shower… so He left. If He had stayed a little longer until I was finished –we could’ve talked it out or if He had answered at least one or two prayers… maybe more … maybe then I wouldn’t feel like such a whore… Next time you see Him could you remind Him I’m here…? Then I wouldn’t crave a dungeon in my basement with stocks and a sawhorse … & I wouldn’t dream of afternoon floggings… or being hung in gravity boots welded inverted attached to the rafters at the top of the stairs I’d not imagine myself not as a human toy or a prize at the people petting zoo Oh God don’t stop - won’t you Pet me too? NOW I begin to wonder if God even answers the Confessional prayers of a nymphomaniac at all…? Doesn’t he realize nymphomaniacs are people too? Now I’ll ask him again and this time maybe He will see… Dear God look here – it’s me – I’m Praying now please – hear what I say, God, I pray for everything in my life that SEX replaced and I pray to get IT ALL back What SEX took away & I pray to know every question in my soul that SEX answered & For every time I used SEX to hide from the hurt that SEX made better please heal the broken pieces of me that I thought SEX could fix I am shattered inside & I don’t know where I am except when I’m FUCKING & FUCKing is not FUCKING working anymore… Listen God it’s just you and me now… do ya feel me? c’mon and help a Nympho out God Please don’t tease me renovate me God just redecorate me God, damn it put me back into working order please, can you do just one things for me? Peel the layers of my life apart & insert your wisdom to soothe me … ease my pain – you can do that right? Sorry if I have doubt…… I’ll use your protection if you’ll give me safe haven I need tranquility & for Gods’ sake help me just keep the outsiders down? I need released so I can believe that SEX can feel good even when I’m not bound. Maybe then I’ll find someone ELSE to touch me & I’ll want SEX for no other reason than just because I want SEX really want SEX Dear God, I pray just once To know that SEX isn’t why I got a good deal on my car to believe that the hope for SEX isn’t why my friends stay near. I can walk a block down the road without SEX whistling from the men who watch me go by and want SEX & I pray that its not SEX in the back of the mind of the next man I meet because I know what it means. I pray to never have the SEX I don’t want to have ya know, the SEX a man expects because its easier to consent if it makes the man go away I pray for everything that used to be before SEX happened to me & before I learned how SEX took my pain away but in the end I found out it was the SEX that made the pain so I prayed the SEX would go away I hate SEX I love SEX I want SEX I need SEX Dear God I Pray for a LIFE With (or without?) SEX a life with Peace Happiness & Love & just enough (but not too much) SEX Oh God now I’m horny
Hindsight full of maybes
A Hindsight Full of Maybes
I am thirsty and you cannot explain away the fact that you know my name. So, pay attention, if you will as I sift through the sands of time… that you’ve made into mud, my dear family. Sit down, have a drink of tea with me.
Perhaps one day your name will be spoken but it won’t matter, at least not until you will allow it to be heard.
It’s a funny thing to think about the small moments of others people’s lives that have touched MY LIFE even if those other people never knew it.
Sometimes I wonder whose lives I touched and didn’t know it. Sometimes I care. Other times I don’t.
The sounds of sweet laughter can fill a room much faster than the confessions of those in pain. The noise of other people’s bliss gives discomfort in your incensed mind…beware, mother…selfishness brings oppression.
Do you hear my dreams? Why do i only have bad dreams? My words ease the burden of secrets that I keep and living each day is not living in my Eden, for I cannot bloom beneath thorns of dying roses.. so I ask each of the gardeners who offered me only barren seeds simply –
Why? & you…?
While standing on this road do your legs ever feel weak? In a stupor, I’d say you’re all lying.
How wonderful it must be to know the pride of a birth family that hangs a picture on the wall.
Mine is torn
The heavy frame pulled the nail from the wall.
The portrait that was seen only in the mind’s eye of a child.
That child’s wishes have been replaced with adult’s grief.
Still, its no matter when they took my portrait; after all… they were only my wishes. What matters is who erased the family from my wall.
(Is this the point where I thank you all?)
My memory is out of order, I had wished you had hung around me a bit more …
but I understand
(You were too busy, having your own families to care for)
I never asked and you did not want to know.
The more you knew – the less I grew…
You were only creating insecurities for my dumb ass.
You amaze me so I replay each of the childhood nights (as best I can);I have to double-check the accuracy, verify because of so many lies you told me…
I’m always looking for the life-altering moments and finally I found out when it happened, I must have been sleeping cuz I missed it.
I’ve never been so damn self-respected and confused at the same time I’m afraid It was only a glass of tea that an Angel served me that day but Daddy forgot by the end of lunch.
I felt the love growing and I knew the secrets. Now I know the truth.
I’m scared to fucking death.
Is it too late to break the ties?
Too late to try to understand the advice that I should “chill” that when the time is right, I would “simply just know?”
Its time now to go along, quarter past 8.
Dreading my busy day and its not even 9…
Sick and tired of pride worth more than the time I worked so hard for what I call mine.
I am wondering now what’s next on this long trip through life.
I guess If I knew than I would not be here right now to wonder.
Had I known the end, I would not have been there in the beginning.
(Yes, I’m playing games with that old friend called ‘hindsight’… and I don’t think “friend” was the right word to choose…)
I guess it could be “enemy”, “painful truth”, “reality check”, or “understanding”… What do you think?
What would you name the reflections on your past?
(By the way I love you and I’m scared)
Yes, I am afraid, and I tell you because I know you are too.
What is it about the world these days that its not okay to be afraid anymore?
We are all afraid. We are all scared, but we trade ourselves in for bravery.
Teaching ourselves not to love and that…makes me even more afraid.
Those strangers called my family who never looked at the invisibile scapegoat they named me.
They never opened their hearts to me -if they did I’d never set them free, they are not family, I am not me.
Making my beliefs into a crime masks their mistakes.
I have become their band-aid for their wounds so I carry heavy their crosses on my broken back. I wear the disgraceful badges of their scars (meanwhile they drive like sheep in fancy cars) to social status functions (of discrimination and conceit)I don’t belong in those places.
I don’t wear khakis or drive a minivan I don’t vote to the right or have two-faces.
(I don’t have time for my own skeletons because I’m too busy running from closet to closet hiding theirs) I do not have a placemat for every holiday.
So what if church on Sunday is in my living room?
I hate golf and I wear no veils and there are no screams from the back room in my home… (Well, not anymore)
The truth of my youth -they would rather listen to the hum of a crowd -not their own conscious. Personally I like my own inner thoughts. So much, I write them… alot. Simple times were long forgotten once I finally hit the bottom. So many lessons I have wished I could have taught them. Is it too late now since I don’t know if I can forgive them at all… Yes, your sister fell with the leaves of fall, summer’s end was too late and now I pretend that I never really knew you at all. I may like my thoughts, but I hate the hate I feel. My lifetime of riddles and rhyme are written in time. Signs of my life are at the end of a knife that lives in my back and the blood runs down and out the end of the track. After all, its clear now who is the villian … Some sentences come from much more than just a book or two…I wasn’t right but I’m glad I didn’t listen to you, and maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t wrong but tell me then… what I’m supposed to feel whenever I think of you? My soul cries out to forget what I hate but my children are so loved I cannot be free. Truth be told, i have addictions … but in this game of life… we all got caught… So I think…back…at all the maybes…like… Maybe if I had a mother I would’ve had a chance. Maybe I’d know something more than cheap romance and dumb luck or happenstance. Maybe if I had listened to you, I would’ve known what the hell to do, … Maybe FUCK YOU was the wrong thing to say when I stood there in tears as they took my baby away.. . Maybe if I had stayed awake in school then maybe my husband wouldn’t have been so cruel, or maybe if I had slept more at night or if I had eaten right, taken less pills, drank more water or juice. (Not beer) Maybe then I wouldn’t be here. Maybe if I had not opened the door. Maybe If I had prayed some more. Maybe if I hadn’t done that line then… Maybe if I hadn’t run away… maybe if I hadn’t done that line.. maybe I could’ve stopped time … Maybe then I could have seen the signs… Maybe maybes don’t mean a lot. Maybe or Maybe not.
Corn Soup
Attention Mothers!!!
Are your children 
??
Dont throw them out
I mean… what a waste!!
Like burnt toast
you could scrape the sides
& still enjoy ‘em …
Or like cookies ….
the ones that ran together
they may not be perfectly round 3 across & 4 down but its no matter
they’re still cookies
and they’re still sooo good!
Even if the colors dont match
use the leftovers
in another room
for a lamp
(or something)
you will see its color is still beautiful!
That old chair just cover it!
Ugly headboard?
Fabric!
Create some sunshine for another
dull
grey
day
with a lil’ bit of paint
& tolerance
& if your child was born a bit dry for
your preferred
dream-child-vision
water her
with love
& tolerance!
Your dancer may write
Your doctor may sing
Your athlete may
add & subtract
& its okay!
Once you realise that
together
you can all eat corn soup!
My Limerick
You said I’d only complicate you as you pushed me from your lair.
That all our memories are formed in jaded words that kept me there.
I only wanted to hear three words but you only said one more…
As I masturbated, you walked away…
calling me a whore.
The Devil’s Brigade
I found it, my soul… buried in the lessons I forgot to use.
Buried in the lost chances…
Lost in the forgotten changes I didn’t make …
The ones that kept me in the Devils’ brigade and
tattooed teardrops on my face.
I stand here now, balancing my future on two pieces of my broken heart.
One has your name written on it in black anger
and the other is a question mark.
Lost
I’m lost.
I am going to gather what severed pieces of myself I can find in a vision of you.
I cannot make out the images in the fire before it burns me blind;
I challenge you to see the picture on the blank page of disgust as it writes you inside of me
How dare you contemplate my rage; Our relationship fell apart at the vein…
I wonder if God could watch us on TV, would He bid us farewell as he turned us off & would we stay apart from the Devil’s flesh?
Or would He give us stitches or would we have all our wounds still come apart?
Should we try to glue us back together?
Let Him return us to where we’ve already been?
I don’t know, our reason for living is burred & dull
& I’m all out of the will to try.
Can’t we call the architects and have them build us a bungalow that stands semi-detached from society (just like our lives?)
Then, could the sea captain not take a simple hold of our dreams; draw us a maritime chart so we become seafaring lovers seeking lost pirate ships filled with gold & silver treasures.
It’s out there, I’m certain it is just buried deep under the sea… I overheard the legend as it was told by the buccaneer to the bandit.
Bon voyage; let’s sail away.
So, why would we want to go back to where we’ve been?
Write us a book dear author and tell me tales of my very own diary; it’s the only way I can sneak a look inside myself too.
I want to be made into that person in your eyes; I want to choose to go back & try but not unless I went there with another you – less furious.
I’m lost.
Fear itself invaded us, get your skates on my beautiful man & carry that boy inside of you, if you must; I’m sorry but you won’t get your simple surprise at the bottom of the box if the cracker jacks are stolen.
Buck up, soldier, pay attention.
You must depend on what you do not see; trust in that & only that before our friendship can be rebuilt from (now) ground zero.
Sing to me a verse with lyrics that makes sense; the music you must carry is me in God’s pale wisdom, my friend; this wisdom you must gather for me, if I am ever to find you again.
I’m sad that you were so blind to how I cherished you & your devotion; why had you been so afraid of losing me that you lost me.
How quickly it can all disappear in my fear; I do love you; as much as I *can* love you, you see…
My cold-hearted misgivings were born through my cynicism & its resident reality in my imagination…
My fear is my throbbing anguish of experiences that left me here …I cannot understand why you choose to feed it, not calm it… I needed you to calm it in order that I separated from the anger I could become.
I seek to pleasure the sting of my past with submissive temptations but I’m bound by my lack of control.
You stole my ability to cope & so my rampage begins…
I am exhausted in your fear of my intentions…Jealousy simmers inside your mind and sadness ignites my blood…
It must be that desire that makes me afraid because I know I become your beautiful suicide as you undress me.
What follows our cravings is tethered ropes that make my desires drip like watercolors on a torn canvas and we dance in our ritualistic injections of long nights and love’s clone in a mutual self touch that delivers memories contorted and painful departures.
i understand what you symbolize but I do not understand the lack of belief and knowledge that led me to you –
So here i go – quickly finding my way to no where. My only hope was to find an answer but without knowing the question its impossible -
if I knew the answer, I wouldn’t be here –
Lets dance.
Lucks Lock
lucks lock
Lucks Lock
Freedom… is…
Freedom is the courage to push your intentions beyond the constraints of traditional rule…
needing a way
