red robins play in
snow covered trees of
emerald, ruby ribbons
singing a song, whistling
their gemstone tune
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 10:02 PM UTC
i don't want to, but if i did
you would be there, in blue
jean overalls, no shirt, just skin
with your hair pulled back in a
Kentucky Wildcat baseball cap.
on the porch you would reign
with a cigarette between your teeth
& a piece of wood in your palm
whittling & whistling the night
away, the stars twinkling away.
i don't want to, but if i did
you would be there, in the morning
while i make a *** of coffee, black
like the coal dust lingering on
top of our sunrise kisses.
deep in the Appalachian range,
where the starlight becomes our
city lights, our home in a holler
calls to my heart, and i want nothing
more than to be held
in your arms.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
i'm scared & i don't
know if it's because you
are so bright & real,
so unlike the toys i'm
used to holding in my
palms.
you are a shining sea
in the midst of the
charcoal thunder growling
over my head, confusing
my direction.
you are a silver dagger
embedded deep in my heart,
something i thought i had lost
a long time ago, deep in the
sugar white sand.
when i wake up, i see you
& when i sleep, i dream of
you, always lingering on
the edge of my tongue, so
sweet, so sharp, so strange.
when i look into your eyes of
ember, i see the entire universe
laid out neatly like a map, ready
to jump in, scared to let go.
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
he painted me from
dusk blue stardust &
pearl pink sea
foam.
his hands that held
the horse hair brush
were trembling timid
nervous, blush red.
his eyes were confident
bold like the emerald green
gemstone he so earnestly
desired to be.
van gogh swallowed yellow
paint in hopes of consuming the sun
so that his flesh and bone would
shine as bright as his heart.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
the girl was beautiful even then
a blur of charcoal and sea foam
subtle curves with soft, yearning
eyes
her adoration was reflected in the
hooded
eyes of the
painter who laid her skeleton out
to dry.
he spoke to her often, his only friend,
filling her with ideas of sea shell pink
lips, and a rose red heart to match
his own
his idle fingers held the brush, dipped
in rose and sea shell dust,
but he did not fill in
the cream canvas skeleton.
the artist was a gargoyle in stretched
flesh, garishly painted in obscene brights
lime green, neon orange, fire engine red
but with the wipe of the artist cloth
the colors fell away and she would see
the monotone palette that the paint kept
hidden away.
with trembling hands, she took the oil
pastel from the gargoyle's hands, and
slowly, timidly, colored in her own
heart, filled in her own eyes, and colored
in her void until she became a tiger blossom
lily of her own accord.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
growing up, i lived on the
highways between FL & KY
either in the cab of my dad's truck
or the backseat of my mom's ford.
streetlights became stars, &
the stars became my universe
i saw my first meteor at 3am
on the road back from TN.
Halloweens were spent in the cab
with Bugle's on my fingertips,
cackling like a witch.
Christmas was an adventure,
stuffed into the backseat between
blankets & winter clothes.
breakfast was a McGriddle,
lunch was a bag of chips & soda
from the gas stations & truck stops,
and dinner was my favorite, always
at ******* Barrel, beside the fire place
surrounding by my family & others.
the highway is my home, &
i wouldn't have it any other way.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
me too.
six or seven years old,
on my Little Mermaid bed,
playing doctor or predator,
with my innocence.
me too.
eight or nine years old,
in children's church groups,
asking me why i didn't shave
or wear a bra.
me too.
eleven years old, it's the
holiday season, you're my
favorite uncle, so why do you
stroke my breast and cradle my
***
me too.
in high school, everyone's doing
it, it's not a big deal.
you're such a ***** why can't
you just send me a ****
me too.
in college, you convinced me
i'm mature enough, i'm old enough,
so why did i feel so terrified to say
no? why did i cover my eyes and bite
my tongue?
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 2:50 PM UTC
at first, you were two burnished
roses, so pure and bright that i
thought you were made of gold.
you were spiritual parents to me &
taught me right from wrong, and told
me that i wasn't good enough, but that
you were great enough for all of us.
you placed a dunce cap on my head,
but you painted them gold and called them
crowns, and i believed you, you coward.
you kissed my brow, sweetly, softly,
like a vampire caresses his victim's neck,
before he plunges deep & ***** the red
from their veins.
you cradled my throat in your claws
and told me that no one else was
on my level, that no one else
could get this close to you.
i told you i dreamed of becoming a
writer, you told me to burn my journals.
i told you i dreamed of becoming a
painter, you told me to trash my brushes.
i gave you the key to my secret dreams,
to my most vulnerable place, & you
swallowed it whole, like a greedy sparrow.
for 3 years, you dangled my stolen heart
in front of me, & laughed as i chased it like
the hog-tied mule that i had become.
then one day, you got lazy & you slipped
up, you fool, you left the key & my heart
on that pedestal you brazenly sit upon.
i took it back, i swallowed my heart &
unlocked my spirit, free at long last,
and saw that you were the Wizard of Oz,
hiding behind your ratty curtains.
i laughed & i cried, when i realized
what a fool i had been, how childish
i had been, to willingly give you
my life.
you were nothing but stones dipped
in glistening blood, drained from the
blind people you feast upon, you glutton.
you broke my spine & you tried to
**** my spirit, but you didn't know,
I am the Phoenix Rising, &
you will not hold me any longer.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 11:51 PM UTC
the gray storm pounds on my doorstep
a wizened man bent as a willow
he breathes temptation
but i do not
inhale.
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC