I'll be the paper
And you'll be the pen.
Different we are,
But on each other we depend.
Together we'll make art
With our chemistry.
With every beat of our hearts
We're writing our love story.

She drew a cherry blossom
On my cup with a marker,
Right by my name.
And for a moment I smiled,
A gummy, bright-eyed smile.
In a place so dreary,
It felt so lovely
To see my name written
Beside a happy drawing
To make me smile
Every time I feel a bother
For asking a nurse for water,
In this penitentiary
Called a ward.
I carry this paper cup with me.

Used to next to nothing.
Silver spoon is rusting.
Growing where life doesn't.
Giving in at adolescence.
I am not confessing,
Because I need a blessing.
Restless mind is wrestling,
Disregarding outward dressing.
No importance on impressing
Those who do not see an essence.
Patient soul is resting,
Cannot hear Her presence.
Disregarding life at present,
Waiting for a train in hestitance.
Debating on destination residence,
My inner wisdom holds the key to evidence.
Still, I flounder, lost magnificence.
A train somewhere, awaits my service.
Passenger to Somewhere,
No need to get so nervous.

To be passionate
Takes raw courage.
It can easily
Be met with
Discouragement.
But to stick
To your guns,
Through disapproving
Glances and glares
That will surely be met,
That is a courage
I wish one day
To boldly face.
Until then,
I have a pen
And a paper,
That doesn't question
Or judge
My passion.

We molded
Play-dough
Many Summers ago.
You molded memories
I'll always keep.
You've molded children
To be beautiful,
Like you.

You mold beauty
With your hands.

My poetry garden
Hosts a banana tree.
Fuscha flowers in my view,
Complete with lots of green.

My poetry garden
Is where many animals roam.
Cats and bees, lizards and snails
All make this their home.

My poetry garden
Always has the best weather;
Sunshine and breeze every day,
I've never felt anything better.

My poetry garden
Is where I go to write.
It's where I wrote this, in fact,
Won't you share in my delight?

Posthumously Famous.

That is definitely the name
Of my book.
If not that, a title for this poem.
No, the first line.
It’s untitled.
I won’t restrict myself.
I won’t be led astray.

Poets are just looking for an outlet.
Poets are in anguish.
Poets are on fire.

Let us burn.
Let us burn in agony.
Do not peek your head over,
Dear reader.
You have an obligation.
Work, kids, bills.
Don’t think of us.
We are burning in agony, in fire,
And we do not wither away.
We cannot escape that easily.

A person as pure as you
And a child as demented as he
Shows to me, that both in
The same room can create
Magnetic energy.
You're polar opposites
And you're both close
Enough to touch.
He antagonizes me,
And you do nothing to stop it
But extend to me guidance
Like a torch.
A panic attack is no laughing matter.
But to him it doesn't matter.
A trained professional,
But firstly, an *******.
I'm spiraling down,
I'm shaking and sick.
Then I went to your table,
I needed help quick.
With a relaxing voice,
In my mind's eye,
A peaceful place floats
Outside of these walls
And away from these white coats.
The meditation did away
With what the medication couldn't.
A man they call crazy
Made a girl feel calm.
A man they call Nurse
Made it spiral down.

How his arm got there
Wrapped around my waist
Like a bow
Like honey I can taste
I do not know.

Can I tell him to stop?
Impossible.
Can I make his arm drop?
No.
Because you see, I want it so.

My emotions are high,
My heart flutters.
It just feels so right.
Somewhere deep down shudders.
But compared to the joy, it's subtle.

He pulls me closer
When he laughs.
He looks down
At his side, aghast.
I am a puddle.

You are worth more than words.
Here I am, on the verge of immersing myself in the voyage of words.
Like Mother's beloved birds,
On a trek to traverse towards Source.
The one constant on an ever-changing earth.
But,
Birds need no words
To convey their bliss
Towards the Source that burns,
In a Nature's kiss.
So,
I share my words,
I scrutinize it too,
Just as everything else
I feel or do.
But there is one thing,
I can't ignore,
It's the feeling of knowing,
Of loving, of joy,
Without ever needing
Language to deploy.

Whittle me down to the bone.
I've been carrying onto so many things.
Expose my shelter, like stone.
Scattering light to find what truth brings.

Bury me 'til I'm nothing.
Ground me into dust.
Take me to the edge of the world,
Where our jewels and our money are bust.

Take me into the corner
Of captivity's gilded world.
And watch as I rebuild myself,
Let my higher realms unfurl.

To meet one who you’ve only known
In passing glances
And to fall in love
With reckless abandon.

I'm aware of the madness,
Yet refrain from speaking of it
In the public arena,
Because these chains are invisible.
You can see our scars.
Look around, play I-Spy,
Can we spot the wounds
From invisible bondages?

We stitched a patch together
On my flesh in the shape
Of a cartoon heart.
I would have your heart,
But only a caricature of it.

I’d approach you the first year
As much as you’d approach me.
In that year, you’d stitch me more,
Kissing and caressing me with your
Passionate gift of language.
I asked you to make my stitches
Tighter and more numerous
With your luminous promise of love.

The second year went on like the first.
Less dialogue acquainted me with
Thinking of you like clockwork, like records,
Your sickly, gangrene patch
With familiar stitches from your own hands
Attached to the flesh on my arm,
Reminding me you were there.

On the third year, I drove through the seasons
On a tank of memories I called love.
I sought to find you but my tank was empty,
I walked and took a train, then walked some more,
Towards your hopeless direction,
Only to fall upon my face and become a bust,
Like a watermelon hitting cement.

As time ticked on, I’d say words here and there,
As yours grew fewer and fewer.
I grew used to your ghosts,
Gave them all names.
It’s only just now that I realize what’s been done.
It’s hard for me to come down and sit in this
Cold room with cold ghosts.

It’s only from this moment
That I’ve begun unraveling
All these threads.
I’m not sure what my skin
Looks like underneath.
I undo what’s been fastened to me
Day by day and wince in pain.
So this is what it’s like to breathe.

He should be blessed -
The one with dreads.
Praise he -
With a goatee.
Adore the one
With hipbones.
Rub him raw -
The one with the strong jaw.
Tear him apart -
The one that is smart.
Take him even sooner -
The one with humor.
Chase him up a tree -
The one with mystery.
See him twice -
The one who is nice.
This is what I like -
Taking applications tonight.

Maybe someday you'll leave my side
To live your life as you decide.
And maybe someday, I'll agree
To roam alone where my heart feels free.

We have with us a tree
We've planted and will grow
We've sat under it for years
Yet it's still awfully low.
One day it will bear fruit
That will call us dad and mom
And together we'll share the shade
From a tree that once sat in our palm.

I’ve never felt
More luxurious
Than when
I was on a newly
Prescribed drug
With a total body high,
Coming down from mania,
Still exuberant,
But in a private space,
In my bathroom
In the ward,
In a bathtub
That does not fill up.
So I put on the shower
And I let the water hit my skin
And I took bite after bite
Of crisp and juicy apple slices.
I was at the mental hospital
Marilyn Monroe stayed in.
I imagined her here in the same bath
Also feeling luxurious and all sorts
Of ****** up like me.

I saw a skipping crow
Boy, did he go,
Just to get out of my way.
He had a pep in his step,
He hopped, not lept
In the most innocent way.
I found it ironic
This bird so gothic
Was skipping so merrily.
It was a funny sight, it most definitely
Made a difference in my day.

Take my hand,
Handsome warrior.
I will help you tread,
Dreadful as you feel.
I am by your side all this while.
You look at me and smile.
Your pain physical,
My pain mental.
Our suffering entwined
But we don't mind.
You help me out of delusion,
A problem with no easy solution.
You are by my side all this while.
I look at you and smile.

If the song birds sang
At night, if they rang
When the stars show their light,
Instead of sunlight,
If they sang at this, the hour of noon,
Or if they sang to the piercing moon,
Would it be the same?
Would birds have a new fame,
Like the owl, their calls eerie?
Instead of the chirps we know, cheery?
Would I feel this at ease
And attuned to peace,
Listening to their music,
Or would their majesty lose it?

I chose you
Like the butterfly
Chose the sun.
Like the moth is
Nocturnally drawn
To the moon
And any other
Illuminated illusion.
Frenetically chasing
In a trance-like dance,
We wade through
Day and night
Like winged creatures.
Expressive messengers,
Speaking a language
In metaphor
Available to all
Who can hear
Symbols and scriptures
Written by an architect
Keen enough on details
To give day and night
Its doting darlings.

Spiders are a girl's best friend
Or so they think, I dread.
They have started a trend
Where they appear in my bed.
You might find it laughable
They crawl to me when I cry.
Although the spiders are affable,
I'd rather be consoled by a butterfly.

I am a sponge,
Absorbing everything.
And when I wring
Myself out,
All the dirtiness,
All the tears,
All the battery
Throughout the years
Will cascade down,
And there will be
Rainbows abound.

A spiritual soul
Through and through
And who, I may ask
Ever knew
I could sprout wings
And take flight
Like the birds I admire
That fly into the light.

I've learned how to love myself,
And I've gained confidence, too.
I never knew such adoration,
Until I met you.

The stars aligned for us,
And though I've called them crossed,
Our lives are so enriched,
There cannot be a loss.

The technology of the day
Has made our Union possible.
There is so much left to say.
So much joy, it is unstoppable.

And though this Century has blessed
Us with the gift of togetherness,
We know we well surpass
What others will never caress.

I will be by your side all this while,
And through the years, I'll boldly go,
And with any thought of you, I smile.
You're with me more than you will know.

Let's not confuse this.
I don't need a palace or scenic views to feel harmony among the company of you.
I just need your time, an ear, a brain, and a mouth,
Let's make this happen,
I'd sit on an unimportant street corner
With you, near the trash,
Just to hear your words and for you to hear mine.
You don't need to be a gifted speaker,
Or say anything particularly important,
Because God knows I won't -
But a conversation,
The only way we can truly
Know each other and grow,
I yearn for that.
Sit down with me.
Talk with me.
Tell me about your day.
Tell me anything.
Let's look at each other,
Instead of always staring in
The same direction.

Cherries are sweet
Yes, it's true
But damaged ones are
So sweet too
They may look unhappy
Or maybe scary
But tarnished cherries are
One I would marry.

The cemetery was my circus I found
After outgrowing fantasy and the playground.
Golden afternoons in the country after school,
My blood having no resemblance, no ancestors,
To all the Sutton's and Smotherman's and Suddeth's
Who here resided with Tennessee pride. Inside and outside.
The still silence of my childhood cemetery carried an eerie air. I wanted to be here.
The peaceful calm, it called me back,
The king cawing crow, attending in black.
As for any of the lost, perhaps content, Confederate souls,
Who have yet to cross over, lamenting or dozed.
I suspect now, that it was I who startled those ghosts.
My blood, my frequency, my scent of the coast,
Sent from a Union ancestry my vibration still boasts...
How unexpected was I to those Tennessee ghosts.

I have that kind of love that self-implodes
In an explosion that rains from the sky,
As I helplessly wish on my lucky stars
That you don't witness this at all.

The heart can heal all.
That's why we fear
Opening it up
For a fickle other.
We can lose our
Best chance at
Self-defense.

I don't fear
The break,
So I send mine
On a plate.
Recipients are
Used to games.
I am, however,
Fiercely straight-forward,
With self-confidence
Coated in
Uncertainty. Vanity. Candy.
Recipients simply run from me.

This is why I focus on me,
Expired of all of my romances.
Thankful Universe gave us chances
To quickly flee the scene
Before the heart dances.
Lonesome creatures are courageous.

Without a bluejay
Life is so very nay.
Without a brother like you
Dreams are bitter too.
Without a crossword puzzle
Or maybe a toy train
Life is not the same at all,
Life is not the same.

You keep me up at night
Thinking of you, in trance.
Let's stay up all night
Doing the bedroom dance.

We don't need furniture,
We can dance standing up.
So you know in the future,
I like to be felt up.

I feel sticky and sweaty
Just thinking about you
I'm wanting and ready
To see what you can do.

We can dance in public.
At home, or with your friend.
We're dancing, and I love it.
I don't want it to end.

The dance is over.
My hair is in knots.
You're my favorite lover
Running through my thoughts.

The double slit experiment
In quantum mechanics
Shows us one thing:
That you can’t trust a *******.

You can’t even trust a particle
Without watching it like a hawk,
And even then it will disobey you.

Be a little rebel,
Get yourself a little *****,
Have your own opinions,
Let relationships decay into ruin.

Quantum mechanics tells me
That we’re all a little cunty,
Even the atoms that comprise us,
So what choice do we have
In the end?

Call me
The girl with flowers.
Flowers in her
Chestnut hair.
She clocks in her hours.

Smiles away.
Grime under naked nails.
Gets ready
For the grind
As she gathers up her pails.

Waters and whittles.
Pours her heart into every pour.
Trying to make
An impression on
Viewers of the store.

Wrenching
In her harmonious heart,
She picks out
The dead
And tosses them onto the cart.

Brings to the back,
Never to be seen
By eyes that need
To brighten their lives
With pink and green.

She brings forth nurture,
Love, and care
To each of her
Bountiful blessings
Caught in her summery snare.

This heart I own
Has you to call home,
How I miss the
Hallowed halls
Of your soul.

Pressed against mine,
A fate so unkind,
That hearts could torment us to the bone.

The words you have spoken
Speak from the heart,
So I know then,
That this love that I feel
We both share.

And you did not ask,
Neither I,
Here at last,
That our paths would converge in this way.

I feel love come from you,
And I know mine does too,
We're here, not by chance,
Not at all.

Then if we must feel this
And are not now to kiss,
I will wait 'til I walk in your halls.

All the questions I could ask myself
About you and I and we and us
Does not hold a candle to the truth outshining us.
I do not need to hear your words, although you know I long to.
You've slipped away, a swaying phase, unsteady as the moon
In your island you're always hiding far out of reach for me.
I know the rules and I try to tip-toe around them.
Caught in a roulette wheel, shooting myself in the foot.
Swinging on the vines like Tarzan in the jungle, my Jane
Does not belong to me, enamored, enchained,
To this life I'm in, I shall indeed remain.
You are a glittering spotlight far away,
The light tower,
And I am only a glint in the corner of your eyelash,
I might cower,
The instant you turn to me, the minute you decide to fight for me.
The right hour
I am able to be yours, in this life, if ever, you have me,
So clever, wrapped in maroon silk cocoon, staved away,
For you, alone, always unable to love another, steal me from my lover like plunder, come find me on my shores
And take what has always been yours.

Maniacally,
The days and nights
Bleed together
Into a time frame
The insane
Tap into
That's a lot like infinity.
Vampiracally,
The years of
Infinity
Bleed together
Into an abysmal
Spiral
Of insanity.
Supernaturally,
Are our states of being.
How well
We blend in
With a dismal
Arrangement
Of plain people
In trains,
Checking their wrists
For the time
As they travel
Physically.
Naturally,
The three of us
Are bound to meet
At some point.
Tapping into
Hidden goldmines
Of psychological
Nuggets
That gleam
With prosperity,
As everything
Melts together
Again.
Everything is sacred.
Everything is connected.
Mining
For hidden connections
Ought to excavate
Feelings of wonder.
The caverns filled
With complex crystals
Of energetic
Freethought
Have long been
Paved over
By trains and
Linear brains
Improving on their
Transistors.
Maniacally and
Vampiracally,
The days and nights
Bleed together,
While the world below
Bustles about;
We appear to be
Just like one of them.
We may even check
Our watch.
Our conditions
Are congruent
In that they are
Nothing less than
Supernatural.

The Buddha sits still
For hours, then days,
And soon a spider
Comes creeping along and
Weaves its web
On the Enlightened's
Meditating form.

The heart of mine
Sings a tune
That does not need
To rhyme with moon.
The heart of mine
Does not need
Language at all,
To make its point a heed.
It says what it wants,
It does as it wills,
And I let it play
Like a child, unstill.
I let it rupture
Its voluptuous rant
About how it’s ignored
Or let it signal its chant.
I let it pout
I let it shout,
And do I ever
Let it all out.
I listen to its sage advice,
And let it counsel,
Its rhythm suffice.
It has a way
Of saying the right things
By saying nothing,
But still it sings.
My heart does a dance
Whether I want it or not,
But I have lived in a cage,
Why should my heart be fought?
And pummeled down
Like all of the rest,
To be less than free,
To be less than best?
I let it live its life,
I let it chant its tune,
And boy does it ever
Rhyme poems with “moon.”

I'm one of the ones you call insane,
Because I can't play along with this rigged game.
The odds are stacked, and not in our favor,
But instead for the Bankers with money, they create more.
I look and I see the strife all around,
And know the potential for human life has no bounds.
And when I make a sound,
It's like the words are all drowned,
Or at least lost at sea.
Message in a Bottle from Humanity.
A Human who knows the scale of her insignificance -
While knowing the magnitude of what is at risk -
The disposal of this awesome gift.

I'm one of the ones you call insane,
Because I can't play along with this rigged game.
I know my role, and I know how the story goes.
I should vote in vain and be told my Heroes.
But no, I dance to my own rhythm,
I tell myself it's internally driven,
To improve myself, and the world around,
The world at large, and earthworms in the ground.
So I rejected my spoon-fed medicine,
Of this culture, man-made incentives,
Long before you inject me with antipsychotics.
Internally, Mentally, I chant the mantra of "Stop This."

It can drive a person insane,
Pretending to play this rigged game.

To find myself
In Hell’s grips
From loving you
So tightly,
Is a paradox
So sweetly bitter
I can’t help but to
Smile weakly.