of flypaper
hanging on the walls

floating in the air
trapped in bathroom stalls.

And every fly
that whizzes by

is intoxicated with
my sweet perfume.

But little do they know
they're flying to their doom!

I talk in them
in shades of mediocrity.
They resound in bounds
of hypocrisy.

I walk in them
in shades of magenta.
They hold me snug
as a placenta.

I balk at them
in shades of brown.
They cut me
as a thorny crown.

I mock at them
in shades of trees.
They leave me stuffy
as a sneeze.

Isn’t baring bodies
only
It’s tearing
down walls

Naked
Isn’t for *******
solely
It’s for stripping
right down to your core

I don’t have to get
undressed
to be
Naked

Naked

She’s transparent as the tear drops that stain
her pretty face by smearing someone’s hate
under her eye liner and mascara. Don’t listen to

what people say. It shouldn’t matter. But it
does. She’s as sheer as her stockings
when she starts talking. You can hear the pitch

in her voice change, as a sliding trombone. See her eyes
glaze over, as a honey dew donut. Notice her head
drop, as boulder rolling down a mountain. Your words

become a smoking gun that you blow  in streams of
vowels and consonants. She’d rather have it all
fall out than implode. She’d rather be as is,

unclothed. Her heart is diaphanous too. It’s as delicate
as a loose tooth. And when it comes undone she
stores it under her pillow and grows a new one.

looking leaner
is spread eagle-style
on the streets of Oregon
quiet as a fawn. All she's

wearing is a black face mask
and a stocking cap, looking straight
at the overpowering line
of officers firing pepper ***** –

Pop! Pop! Going off in
puffs of smoke, mingled with
clouds of gas. She did not
speak. As she rose

she did a ballet pose. Then
disappeared into the crowd in a shroud
of smoke. The next day the pictures

are released. An apparition or not –
she’s part of history as Lady Godiva and
Joan of Arc.

mouths
spout
garbage out

Nasty
eyes
see the world
and everything in it
as dark

Nasty
hands
crop up as weeds
full of disease
do nasty deeds

Nasty
people
don’t like themselves
so they ruin it
for you
it’s all they can do

let your child trample my grass
For what good is grass
except to be felt under a young child’s feet

let your child pick my flower
For what good is a flower
if it can’t be enjoyed and given to another
who is inquisitive of its existence?

happens tomorrow. I said it
and I meant it. But how many
times have I swallowed my words?
They taste like onions
and liverwurst. They go down
hard like a leather shoe. And twist
my uvula like a Rubik’s cube.

something
that can’t be
undone
think about it
please
once it’s
out there
once released
it’s there
in memory –
always
to be
called upon
so, think about it
before
you do
something
wrong
calm down
sleep it off
take a walk
don’t do it
in the heat
of the moment
because if
you do
it will
come back
to bite you

of the shore
when I go out to swim

nor the trees
when I’m deep in the forest

nor the ground
when I’m floating on a cloud

nor the start
when I’m nearing the finish

nor this earth
when I’m heavenly bound

You better learn pride.
Never show your feelings.
You've got to hide
and stop revealing
what you feel inside.
When will you know true healing?
How many times have you tried
with someone so unfeeling?
How many nights have you cried
staring at the ceiling?
Next time let it slide.
You'll never be appealing
when you confide
your true feelings.

begging for paper crumbs
and then becomes
smaller upon the feast.
This woman's a beast.

Never that girl
spreading her petals  
and then settles for less.
This woman stands for success.

Never that girl
weeping over him
climbing out on a limb.
Not ever seen.
This woman's a queen.

Never that girl
broken in pieces,
flushed down as faeces.
As the Pheonix she'll rise.
This woman's a prize.

I'm alone. I'm a raging river;
he's a jagged stone. I dance around
him in the billowy air. He's fixed
as a toilet on his stare. He's a ship

in moor. Not a thing I can
procure. The two of us,
a heavy tanker, weighing me
down like an anchor. My wing

is clipped. I cannot fly. I've been
stripped, ****** and tied. I lost myself
next to him. The silk shades drawn.
The light is dim. All I learned

undone. My ****** pen is now
finespun. I'll plant him in
my rose bush yard. As a scarecrow
to stand guard.

north and south, can’t make
up their mind. Sticking out, looking
for a mouth to **** their juicy
brine. Vaginal lips open wide for the

cut of a tongue to enter inside. *** protruding
as a mountain, softer than a headless
horseman until it’s spanked hard and
whipped. Then it turns into candy-apple red. Oh the

things you do to seek attention. If you can’t
hook them with these lines, you’ll reel them in
one at a time with a fleshy piece of meat –
when they’re saturated with that then they’ll read.

can erase the contours of
his chiseled face
the high cheek ruddy bones
petal rose lips
kissed a hundred times
in the corners of this cobwebbed mind
the crevices above his porcelain brow
his doe eyes making me grunt
like a pregnant sow
an ectomorph with a glabrous pate
a Cheshire grin that cannot fade
the swirling cyclone clouding this head
the secret trysts in his tool shed
his lithe arms encasing me
as a chrysalis
engulfed, a **** gooseberry
in the physalis
and the world outside
did not exist
creaky windows covered
in lavender mist
the scraping of soiled soles
two breaths rise
dancing in silhouettes
no amount of time
can erase this

does nothing. You
cannot put that on. You can
not turn that off. It rolls over
into the next year, like a dog

waiting for a scratch
on his belly. Chasing a tale
is like chasing a breeze. It blows
up the tree of the old oak. Like

wearing smoke for a coat. It
does not warm. A nameless
face in the crowd. This makeup is
a narrative screaming out

loud with no resound. Nobody
grows. Nobody dies. It's sits
like a beehive minus the bees
and honey. The box rots in

the sun. The drawers spun
with dust and spilled
promises. Broken crusts and
olive branches.

Who is she?
“Nobody”
he said.
He never married anyone.
Never loved a woman.
What was this eight-thousand-dollar
diamond receipt
in the drawer, along with him
pictured with another woman?
“Nobody”
he whispered.
You know when they lie
because they fidget.
They don’t look you in the eye.
“What are you not telling me”
She shoved him up against the wall.
He raised his fist like a boxer
inches away from her face.
Was he going to punch her?
He was shaking like a quake.
Begged the floor to open up
so, it would swallow his mistake.
He was growing smaller in her mind.
She walked out the door.
Never looked back –
Nobody
worth crying for

Nobody Answers

When she walks into an empty,
dark house it hits her as a wind tunnel. It’s deafening,
as her hand places the key into the slot and turns
the **** to open the door. It used to be a lively place,

of kids and pets and toys
spewed all over the floor, chocolate stuck
to the couch, and little finger-prints, like art-work
coloring the walls. The television would be

singing in a sugar-coated voice
a rhyming silly song. Now it hardly gets
turned on. It’s only a black, plastic box sitting slothful,
as the logs in fireplace. Those logs are cold

as stone. There hasn’t been a fire in many years
to keep them warm. Her phone doesn’t ring much
anymore. And when it does it’s only a bill collector. Her
children are no longer living there; they have

their own lives. Her friends have divorced
and are in the dating pool. Now a day she spends
most of her time socializing on her computer. Silence
creeps in stealthy and grows like a cancer. You call out
his name. Nobody answers.

Nothing stays the same.
Let’s welcome the change
of growing.

But let’s pull the divergent paths
alongside each other.
We can welcome the other
in our own pursuit
of who we are.

I’ll root for you,
my shining star.
And you for me.
Support each other.
I’m the branch.
You’re the tree.

And I’ll climb you,
as you’re the stairway
to the heavens.
Because together
always makes it better.

No church services
No fresh palm leaves to be given
Only body counts have risen
No egg hunts
No big ham dinner with ricotta pie
No tissues to blow into when you cry
No parades outsides
No Easter bunny pictures at the mall
No Easter bunny at all
No Easter this year
It’s postponed to the fall
The Grinch stole Christmas
Covid-19 made Easter listless

No filters
No process system
No trim
No rose
No orientation
No direction
No on
No in
No between
No Beginning

down Netherlands
the north is shaved of everything
you will not find a stray
or God-forbid a gray

It’s smooth
just like a baby
you can see the hood and underneath it
you can place your wood in-between it
and you’ll Never floss your teeth
when you lick my ice-cream

Join Me on Patreon to watch me Shave my *****

will I buy
the lies. Fed to me
as golden honey. But the runny
nectar bit my tongue as vinegar.

No longer
will I sweep myself up
in the love. I felt colorful
as the leaves in autumn, swirling
in crimson till I hit bottom.

No longer
will I pine
as the evergreen in a sky
of blue. The cue turned brittle. And I
whittled till my needles dropped
to the ground.

No longer
will I hold
the dream of rainbows
unicorns and emeralds
green. The attack has painted
the reverie shiny black.

If I’m nothing to you
Then I’m something that’s nothing
That’s hung over you
If I’m getting nowhere
Then I’m already there
If I don’t count
Then I’m not a number at all
And the not being counted
Makes me special
Because I’m not categorized
Into something you used
I’ll stay as nothing that’s something
no longer hung over you.

they say
it isn't you.
Words are hair spray.
Don't let them stick in your head.
Don't give them power!
Wash their dirt off in the shower.

No matter what
they do
it isn't you.
It's their projection,
in the glass.
Their own reflection,
as they pass.

No matter what
they spread,
it isn't you.
Their rumors
are twisted tumors.
Don't let them grow.
Radiate!
And then they'll slow.

No matter what
they are
it isn't you.
They're jealous
because you follow
your own rules.
You make your own plans.
You take a stand.
They sit with their distraction,
watch and take no action.

mood you’re in
I will always listen
without judgment
or thought
I am here
when you are lost

No matter what
road you’re on
you’ll always have
a friend to lean on
to walk beside you
to hold you up
to carry the load
and bear the cross

No matter what
you’ve done
you have someone
to count on
unabashedly, don’t be afraid
I’ll walk you through
every stage

No matter what
time it is
day or night
winter or summer
you can call
and I will always answer
when you’re sick
or at the end
no matter what
you’ve got a friend

some people
are going to love you.

No matter what you do
some people
are going to hate you.

No matter what you do
some people
are going to ignore you.

No matter what you do
some people
are going to talk about you.

So, keep doing what you do

some people
are going to question it.

No matter what you say
some people
are going to take it religiously.

No matter what you say
some people
will unfriend you.

No matter what you say
some people
will follow you.

No matter what you say
some people
will twist it out of context.

No matter what you say
some people
will read between the lines.

No matter what you say
some people
will hear it a different way –
omitting words
adding other ones in.

No matter what you say
to some people –
it won’t matter

No matter what
you will inspire some
not so much the other ones.

I need a calmer life
of reading books
and water lillies
Reflecting On –
what’s important
and not distorting
what people say
where change
is more than the seasons
it’s reason to believe in
Myself –
an unpacked life
peaceful talks
and long walks in the woods
Joyfully –
catching a breeze
wishing a kiss
skipping a rock
being happy
without the add-ons

putty in his hands
pulled and stretched
like rubber bands

No more shall I be
crumbs on the floor
swept up and thrown out
the door

No more shall I be
on the bottom
of his list
making me feel
like I don’t exist

No more shall I be
awake at night
tossing and turning
til morning light

No more shall I be
weeping all day
with my head in my hands
under a dark cloud of grey

No more shall I be
a victim
now that I've kick'd him
to the curb

shake hands.
We’ll wave.

No more will we
convene.
We’ll stave.

No more will we
touch.
We’ll look.

No more will we
go out to dinner
We’ll cook.

No more will we
linger.
We’ll scurry.

No more will we
have peace.
We’ll worry.

No more will we
ever be the same.
We’re forever changed.

could help.
They either fell
for me,
where afraid of me
or looked at me peculiarly,
like I was something
they never encountered before.
One, I’m an itch
he never outgrew.
But’s he’s too old to scratch.
So now
I gotta find
another playground
for my mind,
another place
for this egg
to hatch.

this glare. A firefly
diving in the ebony air
won't be captured. These wings
molt. But won't be fractured.

None can dim
this spark. This star shines
in pitch dark, sharp as talons
of a hawk.

None can dim
this inner glow, cast
a shadow on the flow of electric
light. It burns for all. And burns
deep bright.

as I. Without a parachute
I cannot fly.  And land so hard
I broke apart. My arm a tree
branch limb that couldn't swing

or swim. My leg a rolling
log, without a foot to jump or
jog. This head a bowling
ball. Eyes and tongue just

loll. My chest a hollow
stump that sits there like
a lump. It doesn’t hold a beat,
cold as rain and sleet. The sun

rises and sets. The sky full
of clouds and contrails
from the jets. And the frost lost
its bite, since I fell from the height.

No Nirvana

She’s as stubborn as the wind,
pushing up against you until
you lose your balance and topple
over. You’re a Jenga block

placed precariously
on top. She doesn’t adapt
to her circumstances. When you call
she never answers. Everything is on

her terms. As the earth spins
around the sun, so too she turns,
from black to light and back again,
depending on her mood. You won’t know

when. It’s all so exhilarating,
but very much debilitating. You’re
a moth drawn to her flame. She’ll singe
your whiskers. You won’t need

a shave. There is no nirvana. You’re
split between suffering and desire, as a
banana without velvet ice cream you’re
red as an inferno, without the sunscreen.

will reach out
when they see she’s in need
they run

No one wants to hear it
or deal with it
better to sweep it under the rug

No one wants to give
their time
lend a helping hand
this is the “me” generation
everyone is wrapped up
in their own problems

is going to hold my head
down under the water again
or lock my feet in chains
or act just like a friend
or push me through my pains

No one
is going to blind me
with their light
or step on me like an ant
or tell me no, "I can't"

No one
is going to bully me
or cut me with their speech
or put me on a leash

No one
is going to break
the broken pieces
strewn on my dresser
to make this Mona Lisa's
smile a little lesser

No one
is that high
or infallible themselves
I only have one life
I'm going to live for myself

will blind me
with their cheshire smile
or cut me down to fit
like red mosaic tile

No One
will have me drunk
on whiskey lime words
salted tongue in my ear
then cage me like birds

No One
will seep
into the folds of my skin
burn my butterflies
or make my head spin

No One
is all
that they seem
to while those green years
on rivers of dreams

pick me
I’m not a flower to be placed
in a vase full of water
to sit on some man’s granite counter
for him to stare at for hours
to prune at his choosing
and toss out once I’m losing
my vitality

They’ve been there too long. They’re part of the
earth I walk on. They make up the air that
I breathe. They lock me in shackles

in my sleep whispering all their misdeeds
as my body weeps beside the clock as it
ticks off the minutes as a stopwatch

keeping score. They hang loose out the window
when the sun shines behind the door. They build stone
walls between my neighbor and me. They’re thick as

a forest in brilliant jade green. They’re the cross I carry,
the one I’m nailed too. They’re the spouse I married,
the one I made a life of islands with. And I swear
there’ll be there when I no longer exist.

These words will sit here on the paper
Year after year in my book

Some may choose to read it
Some may choose to leave it alone
But no one can say I can’t do this

No one decides the content
No one can prevent this from becoming

After living a life of interference
No one can interfere

it wasn’t real. It was! Just because
you couldn’t see it, or hold it in
your arms. Just because it was tiny,
and unrecognizable and stopped

developing doesn’t mean it didn’t
exist. It did. It had a name. It had
a place in my heart. It had a home. It
started out the same as all the others that

you see. It was a tangible part of me. And
when I lost it I lost everything. There is
no cemetery to go to visit it. There was no
recognizable mourning process. I had to

do that alone.  It had a date to be born. It never
made it. It was taken too soon, though I saw
its little heart beating on the monitor. And I
bought the bassinet and cleared out a room

for her, like expectant mothers do. So, don’t tell
me she wasn’t real. She was. She was as real
as my two sons.

what it’s like
to be the sad one
behind the smile

No one knows
how it feels
when you don’t feel anything
because you’ve stopped
a long time ago

No one knows
who you really are
not even yourself –
you fool the most

No one knows
where they are
in relation to you
they’re from the old school

No one knows
when this will ever end
for you it ended long ago
maybe now they got a little taste
of what you swallowed

No One Knows

what it’s like to live in shame, to have no name,
to be labeled the fool by those so cruel, with their insidious
laughs, behind your back. No one knows

what it’s like to have lost it all, intrepid enough to try
again because you have nothing. And nothing
to lose, except your dignity. No one knows

what it's like to live in anguish,  maintain the
smile behind unfilled desires. People refuse to see the message
you're putting out, because it's limned in idiosyncratic

ways that don’t embrace their priggish beliefs. Don’t get
entangled in their callow beefs. Living soporific lives
they’ve nothing better to do. You’re like the leaves

that stick to the grass after an autumn rain, a blanket of
orange, crimson and gold stain for labile feet  to *****
upon. No one knows. Underneath, there's green that gets
covered up in winter frost.

they know what I look like
know what I sound like
I try to tell them in my lines
I try to reach them
maybe they think I’m writing fiction
or maybe apathy is their favorite flavor
so, all I savor is the verse
it can be a curse to wrap yourself
in yourself
doesn’t provide much warmth
it’s a lonely life of want

a lonely artist
who yearns to be understood
who writes every day
the depth of their being
when no one is hearing
what they are reading
they’re only seeing
empty words
arranged on a blank page

the poet –
sees seasoned actors
on a full stage
but atlas, without a spotlight
to highlight
a life
lived through
verse and stanzas
to stand bare
in a room
of empty chairs
and still endure
the performance
because
they must
to not
is death to us

No One Needs to Understand

Why do some animals live longer
than others do? Why are some people kind
when others can be so cruel?  Why do you want
to be my friend when others can’t stand me? That is

so hard to comprehend! What really moves you?  Why do
you believe the things you do? Is it something that’s been ingrained in you or something that you came to
on your own? No one needs to understand. But it helps

when there’s acceptance. And I want you, though I don’t understand you. We don’t need to be the same. Maybe we will learn through our differences. I can’t explain, but who really cares? I’m happy it’s that way, and that I’m with you.

his pearly straight teeth
and chiseled jaw
the fire in his chestnut eyes
the crowds he draw

No one saw past
his sharp wit
his washboard stomach
he was fit

No one saw past
his satin jet-black hair
his way with the ladies
he'd open the doors/pull out their chair

No one saw past
all his lies
how can they now?
with a tummy full of butterflies

behind the Cheshire smile,
the starlit eyes
that he is vile.
The colorful guise
he cloaks himself in
doesn't ever wear thin.

No one sees him
as he is
without the cream
and fizz
without the round, plump cherry
sitting on the top
in his house of cards
soda shop.

No one sees him
as I
when he takes off
his face at night
throwing it in his bedroom bureau.
He'll die everyone's hero.

No One Takes It Slow

They lay it on the line. And if it doesn’t
meet their needs they’re gone every time. And she’s
so disappointed by all of it. She’s just not going to
get caught up in it. She’ll just go along as she’s been

doing, looking for a friend. Because she’s sick
and tired of men that only want her flesh and not
her mind, that only want her body but not her time. And it’s
no use in pretending. It’s a turn-off before it even

starts. She’s just so burned thinking things will
change. No one’s going to invest in her without any
returns. So she’ll stay as she is, because she’s so
fed up. She has no more to give. And it’s no use

pretending. It’s always been that way. No one
wants to wait anymore. No one takes it slow. They need
their guarantees at the door. And it’s no use pretending
that things will ever change.