Jennifer is my cleaning lady.
Very efficient, and reasonable.
She comes every two weeks.
She knows all my shortcomings,
She empties my bins.
One week, she left me a note,
With a poetic question.
Two weeks later, I waited for her
To discuss her query.
Jen is lost without love,
Lost her love,
Wants to write about the pain.
Quid Pro Quo, thought I,
We were soul mates,
So I took the opportunity
To ask about stain remover,
And behold,
Her poem is born.

Ať už jsem, kdo jsem, co já vím,

Víš, že nikomu na světě
                 nepřála bych být tak sám
Přesto všichni jsme sami
                 a jsme tady spolu

A housle hrají nám
                 do rytmu kroků
A doprovázeny
                 vlastním bitím srdce

Zanikají tóny ve vlastní hloubce.

Thin black silk veil covers transparent porcelain white skin and an illuminated red heart flutters wildly within
A mouth with the shape and shine of the moon echos with melancholy tears and laughter lost and a touch of lunacy for the dark side of things
She would fake a smile and say she was okay just to comfort her family and friends and it was easier than trying to explain the things they would never understand
She could handle the weight and the darkness and the monsters didn't scare her as much as she scared them and there was pain in every breath on the worse days and numb on the bad days and the good days seemed to pass in mere minutes and it never slowed down the wild red illuminated heart fluttering madly within her chest

Once upon a time, a little girl found a seed.
She wasn’t looking for a seed,
but she found one anyway.
She held it in the palm of her hand
and wondered and wondered.
She planted it in rich, black soil.
For weeks she watered the soil,
gave it sunlight,
and even sang to it.
It sprouted and grew into a beautiful flower,
with petals of colors man
hadn’t even invented names for yet.
The girl loved the flower,
and the flower loved her back.
They were happy.
But between smiles and blooms,
the girl and the flower knew
that this could not possibly last forever.
“Flower, I know no matter how much I care for you,
some day you will die.”
The flower nodded and when he did,
some of his brilliant petals fell to the soil.
The girl gently pocketed them to keep.
As time went on, the flower began to wilt;
his colors faded;
his roots shriveled with the rest of him;
but the girl still continued to care for him.
When the day came, there was not a speck of color
left in his stem and petals,
and the girl knew he had gone.
She ran her fingers over his soil
only to discover a pile of seeds
that had fallen from his dying center.
She collected them, tilled a patch of land
outside of her window
and planted each of them
with the same love and care as before.
They bloomed bright with petals of colors
man hadn’t even invented names for yet.
The girl loved her flowers
and was happy to share their beauty
with the world passing by.
This, she believed,
was how her flower knew it was to be
all along.

Finally . . .
I sit in the midst of silence . . .
and silence resides in the midst
of me

I strain to hear
the nothingness . . .
and it comes over
so clear

All promises lay asleep
in their coffins . . .
covered in stone and time

This empty blackness
comes complete . . . stealing whatever sanity there is left in me

Here in my equilibrium there
are no days or weeks . . . just the certainly that no one speaks

Come hungry darkness . . .never to be satisfied . . . for you swallow eternity
still there is nothing inside

The indifference of silence
bends over to kiss me . . .
cold blackened lips whispering
"There is no certainty."

a poetic darkness clings to
the edges of the room
ageless in its mental aberration
all the years of its incessant whispering softly the sounds
of a life forsaken to a hunt for
all the things that can never be prized possession
all the things that forever slip through seeking fingers....

my face demonized in the mirror  
unchanged except by the years
still holds the taint and taste of her words
like a thick oily poison slowly seeping
from the soil of my eye
where such lovely dreams once grew
now only a parody of silhouette dark upon a shadow
the void form of a man against the cloudless gray sky

an emperor's tongue speaks regal
but the words spoken fall like black leaves from a black tree
dead and devoid of all aspects of a beautiful fall day
an emperor's tongue lavishly paints visions of such beauty to come
but like the footprints in newly fallen snow they are
doomed to fade in the sun
little lies constructed to tell the willing girl
that her satisfactions lay not in the mirror
but in the pit of some man's soul
in the vile places of lust and longing
her love to become a void form against the grandeur of starlight
her plans for the wedding now only faded ink written by a child

my face demonized in the mirror
I seek to choke out the words that would spell an end
to this mournful song
seek to extinguish the doubts and rages that haunt that image  
I am the one who has made this face in the mirror
carved it out of the stone in my heart
I am the one who sees its ***** lines its twisted fable
my hand slips to the light switch and
turns off the forever eating at my soul

Mirror mirror on the wall,
cuts and scars and suicidal falls.

Mirror mirror on the wall,
pressures upon pressures,
mascaras and concealers
on the dressers.

The who am I’s
the broken smiles
upon short journeys,
feeling like a million miles .

Sticks and stones break the bones,
with sharp edged swords, depression is shown.

The melodramatic emphasis of artificial fixtures,
the wrong lessons from photo shopped pictures.

The melodramatic emphasis of the "It crowd"
People, rambunctious and obnoxious
malevolent and pretentious .

Mirror mirror on the wall...

Better to write for yourself,
& have no public

Then to write for the public,
& have no self

Dangling on strings in an old wooden shed,
the puppets wait with hanging heads.
Dust filters through a shaft of light.
Everything's still and silent as night.

Suddenly the door opens with a boom.
The Puppet Maker enters the dusty room.
His smile is wide; he’s dressed in his best,
as he grabs the puppets from their rest.

The orange sun sets as he walks along,
The dusty roads, whistling songs.
The puppets are tucked in a bag underarm,
while they pass through the town and reach a farm.

A stage is set up for the puppet show,
They’re pulled from their bag and lowered below.
The quiet wood shed forgotten and past;
Replaced with bright cheering and many laughs.

You never said you were living
You never said goodbye
No farewell
No last words were spoken
You were gone before l knew it
Only God knows why

A million times l needed you
A million times l cried
If love alone could have saved you
You never would have died
Goodbye you are the best thing l ever had

The moon,the stars,and the sun
They all remind me of you
Your memories keep tormenting
So how am l supposed to move on

This life made me believe in 3 things
FATE, DEATH and LOVE
It was fate that brought you to me
Death which suddenly took you way
Is love that won't make me forget you
But make you live inside me till the end
of eternity
Goodbye you are the best thing l ever had