Sing me a sin,
And I’ll write you a love poem.
Ask for my soul,
And I’ll trade you some bones.

Collect all my pieces
Like baseball cards.
Tell me to leave my mark,
And I’ll give you new scars.

Write me a symphony
With the sound of have nots.
I’ll bury your sorrow
Where it gives way to rot.

Tell me you’re an animal
Ready to unleash desire.
I’ll tell you I’ve been burned
And keep away from your fire.

If my innocence attracts,
You’ll be sadly disappointed,
For it’s locked in a cage,
And my pain I’ve anointed.

I’ll be in white
On my day of all days,
And if you want to be there,
You better learn how to stay.

I am not a tragedy,
But I won’t hide my scars.
If you want to bear witness,
You must view depression’s old art.

There is a door that is locked,
But if you want to make love,
You must take care not to startle
And your hands must be gloved.

Don’t keep secrets from sinners
If you haven’t been a saint.
Show me your care,
And I’ll show you my stain.

~
lost library books
and broken lunchbox thermos,
her childhood under a forgotten
leaf on a pond.
she's attracted to the sound
of the breeze through her hair,
inner-city birds recommending
she listen with her head underwater,
to experience it as a fish might.
this is inescapable.

blood roses in the snow,
her unemployed martyred
fingers in the factory.
the manufactured years go by
at a price too great to recover from.
for every flash of beauty,
there is a hint of anger; a dash of violence.
this is inescapable.

her sleep-flower recital
in a dew-swathed spring morning hospital,
some kind of faraway pink funeral for
dead trees and traffic lights.
treasure impaired clouds capture
an isolated moment in time.
perhaps several moments.
perhaps several parts of the same moment.
this is inescapable.
~

I LOVE MYSELF!!!!!

BECAUSE

NO MATTER WHERE I AM, OR WHO I’M WITH, I LOVE GETTING HIGH AND LISTENING TO MUSIC; I LOVE MAKING PLAYLISTS; I LOVE DANCING INSIDE OF A HOUSE; I LOVE SINGING ALL OF THE TIME; I LOVE FINGER-BOARDING; I LOVE ANIMATION AND MOTIONS GRAPHICS; I LOVE BIRDS!!!!! I LOVE WRITING! I LOVE PHILOSOPHY!
I LOVE SALT AND PEPPER SHAKERS; I LOVE TRAIL RUNNING; I LOVE THE MOUNTAINS; I LOVE THE COAST.

I ONLY NEED MYSELF TO LOVE THESE.
I ONLY NEED ME TO LOVE MYSELF.

I AM BEAUTIFUL.
I AM SENSITIVE.
I AM KIND.

AND I LOVE CRUNCHY MUSIC!!!!!

I LOVE MYSELF!!!!!

Tell me how the war ended.
“They didn’t let you pass. What a miracle, this is.” Said by faceless faces.

What kind of good news is this?

A restless journey of unfinished business,
X marks my spot on the river.
If I can’t pass over, I must pass under.

Tell me when the war ends.
Tell me when I’m accepted.
Tell the legacy tales of how I was expected-
By the Gods.

What kind of good news is this?

In attempt to step off the tower,
The faceless faces gathered-
Arms turned to balloons and ropes,
A safety net on the boat.
No eyes to show the window of the soul-
So they would be nothing to miss.

“We will not let you pass! No rest for the wicked!”

The faceless faces have the key,
I am as heavy as a lock.
Who has the word to let me pass?

I shall destroy it all. As my brain does me.
Thou shall only pass if thee says so-
Rocks are in my coat,
To sink below-
I will ruin your ship – I will make many X’s
You are so wrong –
There is rest for the wicked –
If you do not let me pass,
The Gods will not be surprised.
I am what they expected.
I stepped off that tower,
Wingspan like a Raven

Awake in my bed-
The war inside has ended.
Oh, what a miracle this is.
It was just a nightmare.

/ScillaB

The first flower of spring,
The first flake of snow,
The first walk in the rain
While warm breezes blow,
The first pinkened cheeks
As by sunlight kissed,
This is what I would have missed.
Grandchild's first steps,
His first words spoken,
The first hand held,
As he's gently awoken,
His first day at school,
his first girl kissed
This is what I would have missed.
The honour of becoming old,
And seeing wrinkles in my frown,
Pimping my mobility scooter
And roaring on it around town,
Laughing with the OAPs
While I fulfill my shopping list,
Coffee on a chilly day,
This is what I would have missed.

Shredding through Arizona cans
like a ginseng addict,
swimming a sea of green tea
until my mind has expanded.

Fried eggs & salmon
to fight off the brain damage  
in this unvaxxed land of intentional madness.

Feed your head before its dead;
Steel the nerves & stay well read.
Fight back against depression--
Take those meds, hydrate often
& don't forget to make your bed!

I don’t want to talk to angels,
Not for me, the bleeding priest.
I want my ****** doctor
So I can find some peace.

I want a ****** expert,
Not a hippie with some tea,
Charging excess for the karma,
And no money guarantee.

I can’t take ****** ginger,
It brings me out in hives,
And you can take the Echinacea
And stick it with the chives.

I want the ****** doctor,
Tired eyes and cynic smile,
Who’s seen it all before
And has my details on his file.

Pull out your cold machines,
Test me to the hilt;
Try to find what’s wrong with me,
Before I ****** wilt.

I don’t want to wait for callback,
I’m not interested in online;
It’ll only tell me that I’m dead,
Dying,
Or I’m fine.