From the ashes I descend,
Rising among the flames,
As shades of red.
Orange and yellow,
Blend within the explosion,
Of my rebirth,
Claiming my life force once more.

My deep hazel eyes,
Drenched in golden brown,
Surrounded by a burst of jade,
Speckled with dark green,
Reveal my humility,
Compassion and genuine kindness,
Allowing you to behold,
The window to my soul.

The vessel,
Containing my spirit,
Conflicts with the feminine demeanor,
Exposing sincerity,
Comforting hands of a care-giver,
The voice of loyalty,
Gently escaping lips,
Tears of empathy,
Seeping with understanding,
Kisses of affection,
As soft spoken words,
Depict desires,
Hopes and the warmth,
Of pure love.

Mystery envelops my origin,
Becoming a mystical being,
With the ability to heal,
The potential to inspire,
Living proof of an alleged myth,
Yielding in protection,
As my plethora of feathers,
Shield the individuals I adore,
From darkness,
Attempting to swallow the light,
We yearn to discover.

Blind Thoughts of denial,
Shall forsake your eyes,
If you pass judgment,
Upon me,
For my cloak of skin,
Concealing my true beauty.

As a Phoenix,
I refuse to watch,
The children of diversity,
Suffer degradation,
Living in fear of discrimination,
Stifling the right to love another,
To dress in garments,
That correlate the body with the mind.

I shall rage to cease,
The hands of violence leaving bruises,
Ignorance stripping,
Breaths of air from a pair of lungs,
As homophobia,
Transphobia, and intolerance,
Deplete individuality from a heart,
Deserving liberty,
The pursuit of happiness,
A chance to survive.

The Earth returns my soul,
To reap the love,
Concealed in assumptions,
And sow acceptance into,
The fields of society,
As I continue,
To soar into a cerulean sky.

“Defying Adam and Dancing Among Lilith”


Fighting tooth and nail,

Knowing I can never prevail,

Scared of being hammered,

Yet yearning to be smacked once more,

Praying for your finger nails to rundown,

Sinking into the small of my back,

As your hands trail lower,

All the way down to my backside.

For I am nothing but a tool,

An object for him to utilize,

Tossing me to the curb when he’s finished,

Craving for the one piece of the puzzle,

He shall never bestow upon me.

Attempting to obtain a sense of fulfillment,

As his tongue explores vast canals,

And valleys of skin,

Filling up the vessel with a force,

Of immense ecstasy,

Until he reaches sweet release,

Planting his seed in my Garden of Eden.

Yet I am not submissive Eve,

For God’s Adam to control,

As He exerts his dominance,

Superiority as king of all kings,

Who claims to possess the daughters of Eve.

Envious of her natural affinity to nurture,

To give birth to a new generation of existence,

In this cruel, wondrous world;

Her ability to adapt and expand,

And her right to proudly display her beautiful body,

With hips that sway with each stroll,

Conveying the body belonging to her,

And her only.

Instead the sons of Adam state,

The daughters of Eve presented them,

With an open invitation,

That you, the sons of Adam,

May ever so kindly indulge upon whenever,

They may feel ever so free to do so,

Over and over until satisfaction,

Is proudly obtained.

Mother Earth is never meant to morph,

Into a world dominated,

By the charming and dashing Adam;

One can only imagine Gaia and Isis rolling,

Their eyes in the way only a woman can,

Depicting her disgust,

Frustration and irritation.

Rebellion bemuses those individuals,

Foolishly content in a failing system,

Crumbling into a downward spiral,

Meant to rule,

But unfortunately never manages,

To achieve such a triumph,

Admonishing the warriors who truly deserve,

Such a glorious title.

These fierce stilettos under long legs,

Follow the path of Lilith,

Refusing to submit to Adam,

Simply because I’m told to do so.

Call me a demon if you wish,

Or perhaps a harlot among the Harpies;

The damage is already done,

Now that one aligns my identity,

To consuming children,

Yet you, the sons of Adam, are the ones,

Devouring upon the forbidden fruits,

Of this exotic deity.

Through your eyes, my sons of Adam,

I am beheld,

As this seductive and tantalizing temptress,

Who renders all of you to befall,

Such a fate of being nothing,

More than powerless victims;

How ironic since the daughters of Eve and I inhabit,

The world of the all-powerful Adam!

Should you not relish in such splendor,

At your noble deeds?!

Anxiously, I shall a wait for you,

The sons of Adam,

To reprieve the bleeding wrist and ankles,

From the chains placed upon many,

In such an ever so wicked manner.

The ever so fortunate ones include:

The daughters of Lilith,

The daughters of Eve,

Children of the rainbow,

And the beautifully alluring creatures,

Who dare to defy the reign,

Of Adam and his creator.

Your patriarchal world stifles the vividness,

Enthralling talents of Maidens,

Gentlemen and children,

Those who belong to both,

Those who are neither,

The ones of all different shades,

Those who fall in love with the same,

Who bleed crimson liquid,

Cry brackish tears,

Become hungry without nourishment,

And seek companionship just like all of you.

How dare you to deny freedoms,

To those lovely dears,

Who certainly possess the title,

Of being addressed as human beings,

As much, if not more than you,

My darling sons of Adam.

Ignorance is bliss,
really,
more like Stupidity.
an aspect,
benefiting a person,
like cold sore,
irritating,
an annoyance,
peevish to your life.

Face it, honey,
you’re as fake,
as your personality.
You’re plastic,
I could melt you,
if I truly desired,
setting a lighted match,
to your artificial body.

Please, take some advice,
lay off the make-up,
you look like a clown,
maybe a *******.
Tanning is acceptable,
but looking dark orange,
is outrageous.
There is no need to look,
like you just rolled in bag of Doritos,
that’s Snooki’s Job.

There is more to life,
besides appearances,
waking up like P. Diddy,
sweet heart, don’t like be Kesha,
it’s ******.
Partying is enjoyable,
but not necessary every night,
consisting of drinking,
frat boys, jocks, pretty boys,
saying “oh my god”,
or “I broke a nail”,
and precarious ***.

I know you were raised with Barbies,
but you don’t have to be one.
Barbie is a piece of plastic,
containing no originality,
with an unfeasible body,
and isn’t real,
much like yourself.
Stop with the act,
no one wants to be,
around a person,
who is often intoxicated,
narcissistic,
and a ditzy *****.

You can be a girly girl,
but be genuine,
stop being a follower,
if everyone jumps off a bridge,
then you’ll be splattered,
upon the ground with them,
no use to anyone.

My words are probably useless,
going right through the holes,
of yours ears,
attached to the plastic head of yours.

Anyways, I tried,
as excruciating as it was,
to reach out to you,
who are living this life,
of alleged greatness,
more like a travesty,
in my eyes.

Hopefully, you’ll change,
wake up from this social stupor,
become yourself,
regain your individuality,
and cease to be,
a Barbie doll.

I fall to my knees,
Kneeling before you,
My Master,
Groveling at your glorious feet,
To reveal the chains of submission,
Weighing down my delicate form.

You gaze upon me,
Beholding soft skin shimmering,
As my body is folded over;
Viewing my tantalizing beauty,
As I bestow myself,
To fulfill your deepest desires,
Conjuring the darkest yearnings,
Manifesting within.

“Rise, Baby Girl’’,
Your deep voice commands,
Reverberating within this crimson colored chamber,
As your figure towers over me,
Beckoning my legs to stand,
Obliging to please you,
As my hazel eyes encounter,
The blazing intensity of your own,
Sending flames to burn,
Down to the small of my back.

Fear is the armor I allow to fall,
Tumbling to the ground,
Cloaking myself in trust,
As I allow my body to be,
Touched by dominant hands,
Trussed up by ropes and chains,
To restrain to me.

Willingly becoming prey,
To the sweet, antagonizing caress,
Before your hand aggressively strikes,
My behind,
Sending me into a realm,
Of pleasure and pain,
Morphing into one sensation.

Free is the response I experience,
As you bounds my wrists,
With your tie,
Pinning me down,
Straddling my body.
Placed between your thighs,
With your heated lips,
Conquering every inch of my body.

The Sting of the flogger,
Is a bite against the skin I crave,
As silence is the language,
I choose to speak,
Feeling your fingertips claim me,
As your territory to reign over,
As you please.

I yearn to satisfy the hunger,
Starving to be your nourishment;
For Sadism to feed,
Upon masochism,
As a balance of power is established,
As we lose ourselves in fiery passion.

Dominance and Submission,
Forces meant to bond to the other,
In a marriage of infliction and reception,
Of blissful agony,
Accepting the temptations you direct,
Towards me as guide,
To obtain our darkest of fantasies.

Submission speaks out within,
The silence as I give you,
A proffered hand,
Succumbing to the sensual dreams,
You promise to me,
Allowing you to possess me in any way,
You wish in accordance to our terms.

May you indulge upon my form,
Like decadent candy you crave,
To devour,
Savoring every taste,
Sound, smell, and touch,
In this licentious dance between you,
My Master,
And me, your fervent lady,
Of submission.

“The Maiden”

Over her long legs,
Hips sway in a salacious manner,
As she strolls,
Past the gaggle of gentlemen,
Mustering the valor to face,
Their glances varying from curiosity,
To disgust,
Perhaps intrigue as these men,
Behold this exotic form of femininity.

An aura of mystery emanates,
From a tenderly warm demeanor,
Welcoming the viewers,
Who encounter this daughter of Aphrodite,
Capturing attention regardless of,
One’s alleged reasoning.

Intrepid knights receive the blessing,
To witness the hazel windows,
Into a maiden’s soul,
Deeply adorned with unbidden intensity,
Bestowing a small glimpse,
Into a beguiling beauty,
Mistaken as a cozening siren,
To an untrained eye.

Many chaps desire her,
Until revelations bereave these fellows,
Of security interwoven into the fabric,
Of society sewn with fine threads,
Uniting into an existence of conformity.

Some licentious men lunge,
At the maiden,
Gaping at what these fellows,
Observe as a tantalizing goddess,
Desiring to place lascivious hands,
Upon her soft skin.

Misguided stories allow life to be given,
To glaring spectators,
Spewing jeers of rancor,
Bemused as the unknown,
Deftly saunters near,
The valley of Oblivion.

Like the majestic Mona Lisa,
The maiden consists of subtle nuances,
Painting her tributes behind cryptic techniques,
Allowing one to inspect her façade,
Learning her similarities to the wind,
Feeling her spirit,
Rather than glancing upon visual proof.

The souls encountering the maiden,
Gain respite from strangling thoughts,
Placated by her light,
Revealing the contrasts,
The highlights to expose,
An extraordinary beauty,
Manifesting from genuine kindness,
Breaths of generosity,
And irrevocable love of all shades and tints,
Within a painter’s palate.

Kiss me,
So I may drown in this amorous affair,
Savoring the delicious taste,
Of your lips against my own.

Hold me,
Your arms clasped around,
My petite body,
Skin touching skin,
Finding warmth in your blanket,
Of security and adoration,
Burrowing into the flowing fabric,
Of your embrace.

Never let me go,
I yearn to hear the inhales,
And exhales of your breath;
You glance at me,
Chuckling in delight,
As your thoughts turn,
To how enchanting you view me to be.

Caress me,
Allowing your firm hands to explore,
The slight curves,
Of a soft feminine exterior,
Yearning for the stroke,
Of your fingertips upon me.

Does love not knock upon the door,
Of your innermost chamber?!

Listen Please,
Silence your scattered thoughts,
Allowing you to hear,
The lulling seductive melody,
Depicting the presence of Eros,
In the heat of the night.

I shall pray you stay,
With fingers tightly interlacing,
For the fates bestow us,
With a blessing,
Perhaps a curse,
Receiving a bond to unite us.

An illicit connection,
In the eyes of others,
Yet I behold my desire,
For you as a dragonfly,
Mysterious and ancient,
A beautiful creature,
Existing almost as long,
As the sands of time,
Flying among the earth,
To be free.

Breathe me in,
Granting me the chance,
To enter your body,
Mind and soul,
Engrossing our spirits,
To complete the other,
Through gazing into,
The eyes of the other.

Cherish me,
As our lips encounter,
Passionately nibbling,
As they collide in portrayal,
Of our irrevocable love,
Tantalizingly sweet
As the Riesling rests,
Within my wine glass,
Tempting me to consume,
Pleasure through the delicious taste,
Awaiting for me.

Reminding me of the same reasons,
I crave you,
My beloved.

The heart yearns to live,
to breathe and drink of love,
to drown in the sea of passion,
to frolic in the fields of lust,
savoring the intoxicating aromas,
of a verdent pasture,
alluring and charming.

As I behold the wondrous plethora,
of vibrantly enchanting flowers,
my body dances in awe,
lost in a tantalizing trance,
viewing  the mundane rudiments of nature,
coalescing with the intricate details,
only the soul of an artist may witness.

Out of the corner of my eye,
a lush bush of roses,
red as my cheeks,
blushing among thoughts,
rushing over my form,
as my fingers caress the elder rose,
speaking to my spirit,
with sweet tenderness,
in comparison to the languid sounds,
of typical boisterous shrieks,
emitting from the urban machines,
lacking the genuine melody,
from my serenading rose.

Temptation promotes the courage,
to cup the flower with the palms,
of my hands,
as delightful smells,
tickle my nostrils,
allowing desire to control,
the reigns of the wild stallion,
raging inside this delicate tulip.

After vast contemplation,
from the internal ticking of my chambers,
I retrieve my dagger,
remaining above my thigh,
bound by the fabric of my garments,
slicing the stem of the elder rose,
away from its origin,
catching this marvelous gift of nature,
before the ground can taint,
the petals,
gorgeous yet precariously fragile.

Fear egenders my grasp,
upon this flower to grow fiercely,
giving the roots opportunity,
to manifest into the soil,
of my compassionate touch.
I close my eyes,
envisioning a young maiden,
pplucking the petals off of a rose,
an oscillation of phrases,
swaying from her lips,
"he loves me;
he loves me not".

My eyes trace the nuances,
of the beautiful maiden,
strangely familiar yet intriguingly exotic,
as her eyes flicker,
opening as realization sweeps,
over my being as an epiphany,
restores the memories,
remembering the maiden,
is actually myself,
awakening from the daydream.

My hands rise to share,
their first encounter with my face,
since reaching this new clarity,
as my mind seems to be in a daze,
noticing the scars oozing with crimson tears,
as ache spreads upon me,
while my reality embraces the pain,
bore as thorns,
***** my soft skin,
as I possess the rose,
in my clutched palms.

The elder rose represents all my desires,
unfortunately a mere illusion,
lovely at first glance,
yet neglect of the inevitable thorns,
shall leave my chambers hollow,
ceasing all the flames,
once burnining with intensity,
a threat to the flower,
unscathed  and full of terror.

Reluctantly, I let go of the rose,
tumbling to the ground,
as it bursts into ashes,
leaving my lens to focus,
on simplicities blinded,
by the yearnings of my hearth,
fueled by hopes of the elder rose,
leaving the glass of my heart,
full of wine; no longer half empty.

Dreams Flutter,
twirling inside,
the chimerical mind,
of a dreamer;
my head soaring up,
to meet the clouds,
dancing among the stars.


Being a dreamer,
I am no stranger,
to listening to the lyrics of my heart,
perrsuading me to obtain,
a bouquet of hopes and desires,
that resonates with,the strings of my soul.


"you're impractical",
taunts the voices,
weighing my spirt down,
as self-doubt lingers,
upon my lips,
tasting the return of the bitterness,
a brackish inferiority,
leaving the gulp of confidence,
a difficult pill to swallow.


The shackles around my legs,
forces my choices to decrease,
as the chains of the past,
stifle the ability,
to utilize the clouds,
enveloping my thoughts ,
as stepping stones.


The sight of Intuition,
a gift of the prophets,
allows me to tap into,
talents of Creativity,
skills of persistence,
painting colors,
saturated in intellect,
concealed by a youthful demeanor.


The corset of Thorns,
pricking my torso,
a garment I reuse,
to wear upon my frame,
the suit of torture,
entrapping me within,
a plague of atrocious remembrance.


I return to the physical world,
abandoning  my environmental prison,
to bathe in a hot spring of Lotus Flowers,
soothing my exterior form,
as I conquer one element,
of my internal Struggle.


I rise from the plethora,
of Lotus Flowers,
basking in the dawn of my metamorphosis,
gaining ecstasy,
as I arrive one step,
closer to reaching the biggest desire,
of this dreamer.

The strokes,

of my brush,

against the Canvas,

depict the features,

forming the image,

of you,

my Romeo.



Hazel eyes mesmerize me,

revealing the key,

to your soul.

An alluring smile,

intrigues my interest,

dreaming of your lips,

caressing my own.



The view of your form,

exposes your body,

embellished in ******,

similar to the gods,

of Greek and Roman antiquity,

intoxicates me.



As I finish,

my masterpiece,

temptation persuades me,

to move towards,

you,

my male model,

to render,

my artistic expression.



You gaze into my eyes,

yearning to taste,

my lips as passion emanates,

from our kiss.



You come closer to me,

removing my blouse,

with your firm hands,

brushing against my torso.

You lower yourself down,

to your knees,

unzipping my paint-splattered jeans,

with your teeth.



After the removal,

of my garments,

you carry me,

into the bedroom,

gently placing,

me upon your bed.



Your breath warms,

my skin,

as you strike,

my exterior,

with the blade of lust,

fiercely thrusting,

in the heat,

of the night.



Our bodies unite,

interweaving our souls,

igniting an intimate explosion,

between ourselves,

consuming our spirits.



A safe haven,

becomes my reality,

as I lay into your arms,

whispering sweet nothings,

to enchant your ears.

I drift into slumber,

resting my head,

upon your chest,

holding your hand,

as my world,

is at peace.



I awake before you,

leaving to create works of art,

write sensual poetry,

reflecting on my thoughts,

of you,

to reveal my admiration,

for you,

my soul-mate,

brought to me,

by the hands of Venus.

I march alone,
a flaming candle,
clasped within shaky hands,
as I travel the rocky path,
of the darkest hour,
searching for my lost companion.

The intensity of the winds,
blow with invisible ferocity,
attempting to extingiush,
my only source of light,
in the obscurity of this journey,
to find what is no longer mine.

The cluttered valley of stones,
sporadic and jagged,
engenders my feet to lose,
their sight to guide me,
as a shadow blinds them,
stumbling with the challenge,
of yet another obstacle.

Raindrops stain my skin,
tingling through my core,
like an icy kiss of death,
burning my torso.

An intangible blazing arrow,
splicing through the hearth,
of my being,
trembling with fatigue,
as I fall to my knees.

Despite the weakness,
of my quivering limbs,
I now stand upon two feet,
unwavering in the harsh atmosphere,
engulfing my petite frame,
as I glance in all directions,
to behold what I have lost.

Unfortunately I shall never reach,
the one I once yearned,
to travel the vast lands with,
as our destinies collide,
but betrayal leaps from a canister,
opened by the hands,
of a ***** friend choosing to become,
my nememsis,
as a vile murky sludge bursts out,
of the jar.

Putrid animosity creeps out,
spreading upon my trusting soul,
like the black plague,
relentless with thorns of corruption,
leaving me to make no other choice.

The toxic Substance,
leaves me with a distaste,
burdened at the loss,
of what I seek;
Nausea sweeps across my bridge,
of loyalty,
wishing abandonment,
is not the lyrics,
I must sing to remain,
in the palms of safety.

Loooking behind me is not an option,
fleeing to an unexpected direction,
a turn resulting in a shift,
of purpose in my investigation,
of life beyond the rudiments,
I thought to be the focus,
guiding me.

Feelings of Isolation,
begin to blossom,
until I realize my possession,
of the lit candle,
my fingers cling to,
restoring balance.

As I lift my gaze,
away from the  dancling flames,
of fire,
I feel the desire,
to trust my intuition,
always drifting through,
the entirety of my chimerical mind.

Instincts take over me,
driving meto paint,
the world carrying the fruits,
of a visually compelling existence,
as I encounter the joys,
of a voice entertaining my ears,
the fiery memories,
emblazoning a scuplture,
moving me to create new stories,
sniffing the tantalizing aroma,
of Wild roses,
conjuring a persona,
bravely foolish enough to chance,
the tide Swirling,
with a sea of opportunities.

“The Demon’s Daughter”

Words of malice reverberate inside me,
Paralyzed by fear manifesting within,
My soul for twenty years,
Of anguish,
Inevitable tears depleting,
All remnants of bliss,
From my life.

My Fingers grip onto the edge,
Of the steep mountain,
That has become my existence,
Leaving me with the decision,
To climb up the cliff to face,
The demon of my past,
Or to let go,
Falling into the unknown.

Memories reveal the demon,
I was born to as his child,
Exposing an unfeasible escape,
When the skeleton hiding,
Within the closet is the man,
I am forced to call my father.

Fear returns to my mind,
Begging for me to stay,
With my fingers clinging,
To the mountain-side,
Where I am allegedly safe.
I refuse to fall back into,
The claws of the demon,
Yet afraid of falling,
Into the black hole of uncertainty,
Letting go of all I have ever known.

Fear is the rope,
Dangling around my neck;
I can release my grip upon the rope,
Or allow it to stifle my breath.
Instead I use the rope to find,
A way inside my soul,
To retrieve the courage,
That could not be unleashed,
Without the nemesis of fear.

Courage told me to fall;
Remaining upon the cliff,
Or returning to the demon,
Shall only result in my destruction.
If I could not fall,
Death was my alternative,
Whether or not this path,
Is the one I wish to choose.
Without the ability to let go,
Of the demon’s grasp on my body,
I shall never be reprieved,
Of his controlling restraints.

I glance up at Daddy standing,
On the mountain top smiling,
As my body lets gravity,
Take its course as I allow,
My eyes to close.
Any fate is better than,
Remaining on the edge,
Or returning to living Hell,
Where the demon,
My father,
Kept my battered spirit,
Deep inside his locked vault.


My eyelids flutter open,
Viewing a mirror directly in front of me,
As I behold the image,
Discovering the hues of yellow,
And purple coloring the upper part,
Of my right cheek bone,
Created by the impact,
Of my father’s wicked hand,
Striking my face.

The memories flash over me,
As I experience blows to the chest,
And back as I’m pinned,
Against the wall,
Confining me to his rage,
Claws thrashing upon,
My fragile body.

I cringe in horror,
Bracing myself for the next blow,
Until the Angel provides me,
With respite as her wings shield me,
From her infuriated husband.  

To my left is a path less traveled,
Leading me to a silver fountain,
Elegantly embellished with the skills,
Of a brilliant Sculptor,
Enticing the artist in me,
A trait in me that Daddy,
Often deems as useless.

The reality is my birth,
Engenders me to be,
Of his blood,
Yet in his eyes,
He witnesses the Pitiful excuse,
For a son,
Nothing but a disgrace to his legacy,
Not a daughter of the demon.

Finally I behold the cloak of clarity,
Adorning myself in the garment,
Realizing I have the right,
To neglect this bloodline,
Drinking of the water,
Sparkling in the fountain behind me.

I make my own choice,
The only one I have to bestow me,
With content I desperately need,
The relief of a shattered mirror,
No longer viewing the illusion,
The demon desired me to be!

A cupped palm delivers holy water,
From the silver fountain,
To my open lips,
Drifting down my throat,
Cleansing my blood of impurities,
From the demon.
My Journey was now my own,
Free of the reigns,
The demon desires to keep upon me,
In attempt to fill his own void.

I may be the daughter of a demon,
Yet this new freedom gives me,
The strength to not allow,
That fact to define me,
Producing my own definition,
My identity and hopes,
For the tiara of thorns,
Heavily draped upon my head.

In the breath,
of Winter’s first kiss,
my mind freezes,
racing with thoughts,
as the wind caresses,
my cheeks,
coloring them,
in a shade of pink.

A night of preparation,
for this worker bee,
attempting to preserve,
my miniscule piece,
of a gargantuan world.

In the beauty,
of the night,
I transform,
from a worker bee,
into a queen,
unconventional,
yet lovely adorned,
in originality.
I catch your gaze,
dark and mysterious,
as I enter into the room,
trying to hide my longing,
for the splendor,
of your handsome figure,
intriguing my interest.

I am fond,
of your dark attire,
your lean,
yet rough exterior,
that moves in the form,
of a gentleman.


A stranger with a fedora,
draped upon his head,
leaving my eyes to glance,
down to his eyes,
lingering upon me,
as though only I exist,
in the vividly embellished ballroom.

Fear paralyzes us,
leaving neither you nor I,
to move forward,
to dance,
into the ambiguity,
of emotions,
confessing the attraction,
compelling us to submit,
to the arrow of Aphrodite,
thrusting us to surrender,
to the yearning of our hearts,
to express adoration,
for each other.

I place a bead,
from the necklace,
dangling upon my neck,
into your hand,
allowing you to remember me,
hoping you would return,
after this enchanting encounter.

I observe your hesitance,
in response as you contemplate,
praying your aspiration,
corresponds to my wishes,
fighting my temptations.

I stand in silence,
reflecting upon your,
captivating charisma,
as you body moves,
elegant in manner,
to be closer to mine,
embracing me,
in a modest act of simplicity,
I shall never relinquish,
from my memory.

Beauty is everywhere,
if you choose to look closer,
viewing what you miss,
at first glance.

Just because in society’s mind,
her beauty is unconventional,
he’s a behemoth,
she’s a walking skeleton,
he’s a dwarf,
she’s a sky scraper,
does not give anyone the right,
to degrade or strip away,
the fact that they are,
Beautiful.

He wishes to star in a movie,
she desires to fiercely walk the runway,
he wants to dance upon the stage,
She dreams to play among the star athletes,
but society says they can’t.

“You’re awkward,
a freak,
four-eyes,
buck-tooth,
stupid,
too flamboyant,
you’re simply not good enough,
raise your white flag,
and surrender because you are inferior”,
society harshly states.

Society attempts to silence,
unique individuals,
who do not fit the mold.
of what is considered,
to be normal,
as if that aspect exists,
in our world.

Similarities are necessary,
yet differences,
whether subtle or extreme,
are the essential details,
engendering us,
to be more than enough.

Breathe me,
So I may be the air,
To sustain you,
With a new exhilarating sensation,
For you have never met,
A beauty quite as fair.

May the inhales of breath,
Give you my tantalizing aroma,
To waft through your mind,
For all eternity as each exhale,
Entwines your spirit with mine,
Reaching a point of immense depth,
So pure and divine.

Time seems to freeze,
As Hazel eyes mirror my own,
Glancing up my form,
As you witness a treasure,
So grand and rare,
Engendering you to be bereft.
Of all senses,
Except for the feeling to stop and stare.

You speak the words,
Of an effable language,
In such a distinct dialect,
Only the key of your heart,
Opens the lock of my own,
Through those amorous words,
Only the beating of our hearts may decipher,
Even if fate leaves us worlds apart.

Fingers interlacing in an affectionate embrace,
As our hearts waltz in the stillness,
Of the night,
As I notice the sway of your hip,
Full of masculine grace,
Pressing your body against mine,
As you me so deliciously tight.

The moment I encountered you,
I reach the peak of the highest mountain,
Falling as I may,
You bestow me with the gift of insight,
Wrapped in a ribbon of trust,
Ever so bright;
A chance I have never been granted before,
So even if I slip,
Your love always keeps me,
From shattering upon the Valley floor.

Loving you is all you ask of me,
So forever I shall,
Until I no longer breathe,
Our cold bodies soon to be side by side,
Under an old willow tree.

Kiss my lips,
The intoxicating taste to savor,
A flavor much better,
Than your bottle of Jack.

Remember to gaze into my eyes,
Finding a reason to stay sober,
Stopping all of the lies;
A reason to smile,
Forgetting all the demons,
Who plague you.

May you get drunk,
Upon the aroma of love,
The touch of my adoration instead,
Not the drunken pounding,
That occurs within our bed.

Do not believe,
For one second that you conceal,
The odor of liquor,
Upon your breath;
Please don’t strike me,
Because I pour out your beer,
Asking you to stop slamming the door,
Worried our sleeping children,
Shall awake.

Fighting back the thoughts,
Of you hurting our kids,
My biggest fear,
Not the fact that you take me,
As you wish,
Or accuse me of being a *****.

I pray our neighbors,
Are oblivious to the bruises,
Left upon my delicate exterior,
I do not wish for them,
To view you as a monster;
Thank god our children,
Are still babies,
Too young for this nightmare,
To be a memory to remember.

Such a creature,
Dark and volatile,
Could never send me,
A dozen roses,
Or purchase me a small,
Diamond Ring,
I smile as you return,
Hearing you blissfully sing.

Of course,
I neglect to mention,
The encounter of your hand,
To my face,
Slamming me down upon our bed,
As I reluctantly oblige,
To your passion demand,
As you wish to become lost,
In a harsh ****** embrace.

You remind me,
Of my adornment of the finest,
Fabric and lace,
Upon my ******* and behind,
Illustrating the opulence,
You attempt to bestow,
To me in a display of alleged remorse,
As you beg for me to never leave.

Money means nothing,
For your heart and companionship,
Is all I desire,
Yearning for you to once again,
Be the man I knew I’d marry,
And I shall never relinquish,
The moment we both said,
“I do”.
And this promise,
Is the reason I continue,
To fight for what we share,
To try to rescue you.

Place the bottle in the trash,
For you are better,
Than an existence of drowning,
Within a river of whiskey;
I believe our love,
Can conquer all,
Saving us from this depleting,
Force leaving me jaded,
As I continue to repeat my mantra,
As I watch you fall.

Cherish me,
Full of hope and desire,
A sign of devotion,
Foolishly believing I can hold on,
Eventually falling off the wire,
And these are words I could,
Never utter,
The sentences in which are muted,
Before they travel from my lips,
For your addiction engulfed you.

My frantic screams could not stifle,
Your icy cruel state of rage,
Pain pulses throughout my body,
My sight is only there,
In my mind as blackness,
Envelops me.

Ruggedness of breath,
Drags me down in to silence,
As I shall not live,
To behold the dawning,
Of a new day.

You beat me,
Strangled me with the same,
Hands that once caressed me,
This struggle burns,
Until there is no longer,
A flame;
I exit this world,
Joining the dead.

This story is mine,
Not yours,
A reminder of such violence,
That did not have to occur,
An ending that is never to unfold,
For no one deserves,
To be hit, degraded,
Or murdered.

So I ask as my final request,
For you to share my story,
Pleading for these other women,
To walk out the door,
Not glancing back,
Just running until they obtain safety;
I yearn for these ladies,
To survive,
When I did not,
This is all I have to say,
And finally the bottle,
Shatters upon the floor,
For you learned to drink,
No more!

In a beautiful land,

Where there is meant to be verdant plains,

Anointed with blossoming bird cherries and daisies,

Remarkably fertile and lush,

Tainted with venom stains,

Leaving her soil sterile and depleted.



Beyond the plethora of satin valleys,

Below the large mound,

Lies a lithe serpent,

Supinely resting above two boulders,

Plaguing what should be a tenderly elegant land.



Legends speak of a panacea,

In the form of a magical elixir,

Created by a majestic fairy,

Powerful enough to make the rocky terrain,

Morph into a gentle and fecund prairie.



Prayers to the Goddesses are chanted,

Yet no answers are given,

No growth has been noticed,

From the hundreds of seeds that have been planted.



The inhabitants of the land,

Grow jaded,

As the beauty of the area has faded,

So the potion of a witch is implemented,

As the words are muttered of ancient spells,

To save the land where the serpent dwells.



The rough and jagged edges begin,

To transform into softness and beautiful curves,

And it seems the land has been stripped of its sin,

Yet the Spell could not vanquish the serpent,

The acrid taste of venom lingers,

Disgracing the sacred valley.



The land's beauty returns,

Exuding an alluring aroma,

Enticing the humans to once again reside,

Within her realm,

As eye-opening conviction blazingly burns,

But no potion is artful enough,

To purge the prairie of the serpent's presence,

Nor its pride!

“Am I Pretty?!”

A stroll through the land,
Of the past,
Heart beating fast,
All eyes follow me,
Is there nothing else to see?

Am I pretty,
Am I pretty?
Words pounding fiercely,
Getting down to the nitty-gritty.

What is it you behold?
Can’t be good with looks so cold,
The answer is one I cannot fathom;
Question is am I a beauty,
Or merely a travesty?

The world yearns for a Barbie,
Yet she is a woman in the mirror,
I’ll never see,
Not that I desire to be,
An unfeasibly beautiful lady.

Salacious eyes of a gentleman,
Gaping upon my petite exterior,
Deeply inside feeling greatly inferior,
As I enter a room,
With hips that sway,
Only entranced by my lovely perfume,
Not by the words my heart could say.

Am I pretty,
Am I pretty?
He only wishes to touch me,
Oh, how his eyes did speak,
Leaving me nauseated,
And immensely weak.

Questioning who I am,
Forced into a double life,
Stunned, scared, and laughing,
Neck brushed by a knife,
At the thoughts of being his little toy,
With eyes begging me to please,
Oh, Joy!
If I say yes,
He’ll give me a squeeze.

The caress of his hands,
Shall make me feel desired,
Oh my!
Yet my yearnings do not consist,
Of car windows full of mist,
Or such libidinous palms,
Upon my soft skin,
Screaming for love from chambers within!

Am I pretty,
Am I pretty?
Searching for salvation,
To heal my flaming wounds,
With dreams of adoration,
To distract me of this void,
Ghosts of neglect,
Photographs of a little boy,
Reminding me in certain minds,
I shall never achieve pretty,
Or merely be a toy!

Do I like what I see?
You tell me!
All I ever yearned for,
Was to feel pretty!
Please reveal to me,
If being beautiful shall ever be,
My reality!

Neon lights coloring a dark room,
The puffs of smoke obscuring the place,
But one glimpse of you,
And I am lost in your face.

Our bodies swaying to the beat,
Your hands exploring as our bodies,
Grind against each other.
Feeling the tinge of heat,
As you move your lips against mine,
As you’re thinking of how this red headed girl,
Is so fine.

Lost in your smile I am,
Ensnared as you hold my hand,
Amongst the crowd,
As music is blaring loud,
All I hear are the promises of me and you,
The plethora of possibilities I dream to be true!

I bare my truths to you,
Letting you in,
Speaking of the hurt I just went through,
How I was rejected by a boy,
Who played with me as if I were a toy,
Who is captivated by my essence as a chick,
Yet is frightened by the fact,
I am a woman who happens to have a ****.
Lights go off,
Oh, how the boys find me pretty,
Demanding to play,
My body is appealing,
Enticing your senses to focus on touch,
Not woman enough for you to stay,
My origin is too much,
You begin this repetition of “I’m straight,”
Neglecting that my female form,
And feminine aura is what led us to this very date.

If you’re going to attempt to obtain,
Gratification from a girl like me,
Learn to be more secure in your sexuality,
Instead of being a boy who is shady,
Act like a man who deserves this lady.

You weave your web of lies.
So charming I am trapped,
However, your hold upon me is weak,
I refuse to be one,
Of your dying flies.

Your enchanting smile is now a mere memory,
Those true colors are now all I can see,
Mocking me,
As your sweet nothings turn stale,
Becoming lies,
And I a fool for falling,
Into your wicked spell.

You are no different from your predecessors,
All heartless cowards portraying themselves as intrepid knights,
And this travesty of male human nature,
Has engendered this plight,
Of men only desiring me in the beauty of the night.

A sudden change of heart,
By the dawn of day,
While I am left in pieces,
Falling part with the insensitive words, you say.

A Pawn in your childish game,
I am never going to be,
For I am nothing but true,
Yet not the same gift I receive from you,
Though your intention is not to hurt me,
Or so I keep being told,
Oh, how that statement is getting old,
It seems the blame is at what lies,
Between my legs.

It is never you,
Only the blurring of gender that is me,
Despite all of your actions are the same,
A defense of intoxication,
And I fall prey to what I now know as your false facade,
It seems only one of us deserves,
To wallow in a sea of shame.

Behind every book is a story,
parts may be a mystery,some pieces of the plot,
being evident at first glance,
yet many aspects are unwritten,
waiting for the pen to caress,
the paper as creativity,
escapes from the mind,
forming words flowing through,
the hand of the creator.

Each Book is original,
an expressive reflection of the author,
at first sight may appear,
as simply mundane;
perhaps the decision to explore,
the pages within a cover,
rustic in appearance,
concealing an extraordinary tale,
is an idea to ponder.

A turn of a Page,
reveals intricate  details,
depicting the facade,
blocking the view of true character,
the quirks of each line,
pullng your conscious thoughts,
into an enthralling journey.

Each Sentence units,
to become a paragraph,
of another world or being,
to discover as one obtains,
the vision of another.

Each paragraph morphing into imagery,
as one is enveloped by imagination;
others consumed by reality,
captured in elegance,
or explained through alluring charm,
one yearns to trek through,
crossing into beauty of a life,
unfamilairly touching the soul,
with an experience of an inevitable territory,
contained within the touch of humanity,
shared with one through,
the reading the passions of one's mind.

A sensation,
fullfilling one's heart,
with immense pleasure,
and extreme satisfaction.
as one dances with the spirit,
of a written legend.

“Fervent Flames”
September 8, 2014

Love nearing the title of unrequited?
Terrified of giving in,
Yet desiring nothing more than to let go,
And succumb to a precariously enthralling love affair,
To be kissed,
Left Gasping for air.

Water glistening over a plethora,
Of Golden-red curls;
Those deep blue eyes penetrate me,
With each enamored gaze,
Engendering me to ache with need,
To lose myself in another,
Surrounded by a misty haze.

Hand gently grasping onto an exposed neck,
Fiery lips travel upon the valley of soft silk,
Mouth upon ***** with deeper urgency,
Than the babe who hungers for,
The gratifying taste of milk.

Impulsivity is given life without second thought,
Caged emotions unleashed,
Feverish and hot,
With lowered inhibitions and a touch of heart,
As my quivering lips begin to part.

Light teal tiles encase,
This moment of heated passion,
Between prospective lovers,
Trying to conceal feelings,
Of undeniable attraction to the other,
Instead of getting lost in one another,
Beneath shifting covers.

With each passing moment,
Giving into sweet ecstasy,
As we discover the inevitable pull,
Engendering us to gracefully crash into the other;
In that moment feeling entranced,
By the strikingly allure within a pair of eyes,
The longing emanating within,
The small chamber so full,
A ticking bomb of ardor,
Inevitably destined to explode,
In flames of fervor.

Born with a curse,

I am,

For the body and soul,

Did not correlate,

And this reality is no choice,

Simply Fate,

A girl with extra,

Since that September date.



I am woman,

Not a dude or boy,

Nor am I an object,

To utilize in your fantasy,

Not a **** fetish,

Or a man’s toy!



Do not attempt,

To strip me of my femininity,

Because I do not conform,

You are the creator,

So who are you to claim,

All women come in one form.



Finding beauty in me is no shame,

Yet such actions are to blame,

For lives taken,

Nightmares to awaken,

Tears shed,

Dignity torn to shreds,

As women like me are beaten,

And left for dead.



Glance upon my face,

Tell me there is no feminine grace,

Deny there is no womanly charm,

Call me a man,

So the Heavens may reveal you,

To be the disgrace,



You’re pretty for a T-girl,

Excuse me,

Do you believe we have one look,

Are we supposed to behave,

Like a fish on a hook?!



Transgender women are women,

So why the hell can I not be pretty?

You’re ignorance shows,

As you foolishly ignore,

Beauty crashing in oscillating waves,

Upon the shore.



As I strut,

My hips do sway,

My voice is soft,

No, I’m not gay;

Does that matter anyway?



The goddesses bestow me,

With a valley of skin,

Lush lips,

High cheek bones,

And this big vibrant eyes;

Do not discard what I say as lies!



Yes, I appear as a girl,

Often giving my hair a twirl,

Yet that does not give you,

The right to over-sexualize me,

Believing because of my assignment,

My appetite consists of a salacious hunger,

Like that of a Man;
Once you are finished,

Ever so kindly you toss me,

Into a trash can!



I am woman,

Hear me roar,

Fierce as a lioness,

Cunning as a Tiger,

Sweet as a Kitten,

Nothing like you have encountered before.



Nonetheless,

There is no need to be shady,

So open your eyes,

And treat me like a lady!

“Daughter of Eve, Not Son of Adam”

Thy rosary is the noose,
Around my neck,
Trying to strangle me,
Until I repent for forgiveness,
Releasing me of alleged sins,
Thou view me to possess.

John: Chapter eight shall lead,
To salvation of the soul,
Or so I am told,
For the belief I have forsaken God,
In living life as a daughter of Eve,
When I am supposed to walk,
Towards the light as a son of Adam.

Am I mistaken?
For did Eve’s existence not ascend,
From the bone of Adam,
Thus the two sexes are intertwined,
In the origin of their being.

How dare thee accuse me,
Of being an abomination,
Suffering from irrevocable necessity to be saved,
Yet thine eyes drown in oblivion,
To what bestows Adam and Eve,
Their own essence.

Buzzing of furious sounds reverberate within an ear,

These are whispers one often hears,

Many of which one may never tell,

The little secrets we often bare,

Making our existence a living hell.



Despair enters my heart,

Looking at my form as I am plagued,

By what is between my legs,

A constant reminder,

That I am not complete,

Yearning to be whole,

When I feel obsolete.



Jaded of looking in the mirror,

Only to see dark shadows along my jaw,

The taunting follicles of hair,

Above my lip,

Engendering my soul to feel,

As though it might rip.



The rumors,

Oh how they spread,

Of how I possess both genitals,

Oh the misconceptions I often dread,

Or perhaps another wishes to speak,

About truths that should leave my lips,

Yet many lack the ability.

To silence their tongues,

Insisting to make their own curious quips.

Does the Dark not behold the beauty?

For the light is you,

And you take my breath,

Just as the whisper in hour,

As the birds begin to chirp,

Realizing you shall soon rise,

And ever-glowing in the most glorious of positions,

Provoking the heart to beat a thousand beats,

As your eyes shimmer in heat!



How the world does without,

Such splendor to captivate the senses,

I shall never know,

For the night steals your glory,

And beseeches me to take slumber,

Yet hours without the sight of you,

Agony strikes my side like a million thorns.



I lie among the roses,

Yet the aroma does not please me,

As the tender caress of subtle lips,

Or the wicked hand that leaves,

My form weak with need,

That can only be quenched by

Intoxicating essence you exude.



Once such a pleasure is diminished,

My wanton soul prays for its return,

To encounter such ardent flames,

Upon such a valley of lithe silk,

That is the vessel of my form,

Imploring me to surrender to the warmth,

Gratifying dark temptations,

As I am pierced by your arrow of Eros.



Pray I may conceal the Sins plaguing the mind,

For the angels repel such wickedness of tongue;

Am I to be of such strength?

To eschew such amorous lyrics,

Leaving me bereft of all senses,

For my teachings are being put to trail,

And fear I am to fall to error.



May I remain chaste?

When you mere presence conjures,

Yearning to stir within my most innermost chambers,

And ache to succumb to the strike of your magnificent blade,

To be slayed with desire budding with ferocity,

So immense Venus herself would be envious.



Yet my love for you grows fonder,

With no choice but to submit my heart,

Soul, and mind to you,

Surrendering myself to my dashing seraph,

Who envelops me with wings of irrevocable love,

Ensuring me to never allow our bond to be shattered,

For you make up one half of two entwined souls,

One that shall never be whole without the other!

Falling farther and farther,
Not sure how long it's been,
Wind caresses me in an almost violent manner,
The terror is not the fall,
But when it inevitably ends,
And this life is sure to stop.

These black shadows have darkened,
The yellows, The pinks, and violet hues,
that intertwined in their intricate dance,
Forming such a luminous aura,
Brightening an expansive range,
Warming the souls who inhabit,
The glimmering space,
Now a bleak and desolate void.  

The sounds of the world seem to falter,
All the faces I know now blurred,
Tears stain my cheeks,
The brackish droplets trickle over my lips,
Yet the taste is in my mouth is bitter,
and my existence so cold.