I hate how they never warn little girls
to beware the pretty boys
with eyes like gleaming jewels.
The boys with soft smiles
and music in their laugh.
They never warn
of boys with pretty faces
and blackened hearts.
The boys that leave little girls
crying in the dark.
The ones with words like honey,
The princes with big money,
who we dream of sweeping us off our feet.
They never speak
of boys with danger in their eyes.
But beauty true blue.
Little girls are never told
of boys of silver and boys of gold.
The little kings,
with angel wings.
The little beast neither soft nor sweet.
The beauty bombshells,
the golden adonis’s.
They never speak of boys
who run like the winds
under their feet.
The boys who shine
like the stars in the sky.
The boys with the world in their grubby mitts.
The boys with lips like cotton candy,
and sins warm and rich.
The ones who have our
stomachs doing flips.
The ones who seem to have it all
shoulders back, standing tall.
They never caution of
little boys with clever minds
and nimble fingers.
Of boys with Shakespeare's sonnets in their hair
and love songs in their whispers.
But little girl,
I am telling you now.
Beware the pigtail pullers,
fear the little Romeos.
Heed the heartbreakers
Shun smooth talkers.
don’t give in.
fear their sins.
don’t stay to play.
don’t stop and stare.
don’t twirl your hair.
please, listen to me!
loath the charming pretty boys.
For they are like roses
and like roses
they have thorns.
Ode to Bonners Ferry Idaho in the 1980s
(A little place about 25 miles south of Canada)
Through it runs the mighty Kootenai River
Everywhere you look you see nature
Mighty eagles, moose, elk and deer
Clean and refreshing snow cap mountain air
All summer long it smells of sweet hay
It is an old fashion place thats not out of date
Mountains far as the eye can see
The town itself is brick by brick history
Each day of winter is a Norman Rockwell painting
Every lake is a lake with catch your limit fishing
The country roads take you and your lady to magical places
Magical places that lead to snuggles and kisses
Yes this little town is heartwarming you see
For it is a place that has some of the best memories for me
as little things
become big things.
others might discard.
place wooden eggs
inside empty play dough cups
all in a row.
mummy which ice cream you like?
I smile before answering,
the flower and vitamin c one please
okay good he says.
i place a beeswax crayon
inside tiny hands
in exchange for
my ice cream.
as he drops
tiny, special things
inside a tiny bag.
a very hungry caterpillar bag.
a wooden tool,
a waterlemon jigsaw piece,
tiny plastic spoon
and empty tic tac boxes.
so many tic tac boxes.
i regret that
i am an impatient woman
and some days forget the beauty
in these little things.
as he takes sweet breaths
with eyes closed,
through cupid bow lips.
i am reminded
these are not the little things,
but the big things.
if there was one thing,
one big thing,
i could bless him with,
it would be that
he may never
lose his eye
for life's little things
Here in Oz, they're banning fairy tales,
Indeed, a giggle did not fail,
Children's lit must be correct politically,
Here's the new style ode for thee,
Listen up and you shall see.
Skippy has two mummies,
Their boyfriends spat the dummies,
Now Skippy's mums got preg,
Their boyfriends did renege,
So along came little Skippy,
Hopping off to eat Mr. Whippy,
Yes, totally correct politically,
New fairy tales for the kiddies,
Skippy has two mummies,
Our norms do change, it seems....
I just felt like writing
and the world suddenly had
no boundaries for me
and no one was looking
and the beach was the only one
that could support my feet;
and all those beautiful women
were starring in the big fat blue,
not saying a thing,
not knowing what to do,
not wanting to cry, nor to laugh..
but I guess this is what good music
does to you -
it sends signals down your spine
and, in a second,
you forget where you are
and what you're trying to accomplish -
you get to the point where you think
you are a mother fucking rock star!
You have no worries
and you know that you can play the hell out of a guitar,
on the day before the big show!
But.. when the crowd goes wild
and all of those eyes are having an ear on you,
your cave -
you become one with the guitar case -
full of sounds and, yet, so silent,
dark like an empty egg shell,
cursed to know what life is
but unable to show it to others.
no glass eye,
no ice in your bucket list!
You are all alone and suddenly the world feels part of you.
There was a time when
I felt bad for people that didn't need that from me -
simple, single, solitary people, that couldn't feel a thing
and that couldn't care less if some arrogant prick,
some.. some cocky presumptuous stranger
was thinking unhappy thoughts about them.
I just wanted to write
but all I did was get farther
away from what I needed.
Now it's time to save the word world!
It's time to synchronize our watches
and go naked out there,
with our dicks and pussies free,
uncovered by our own self consciousness
and big little lies!