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I do believe
that an unspeakable crime
has just occurred

if it only be in my head

the memory of your face
has somehow been stolen
from my conscious mind
by an unknown assailant

my brain cells
are now in
a state of pandemonium

and you might find yourself wondering

“who could be responsible
                   for such wrongdoing?”

In response
I am quick to whisper

“only a pure hellion
      could carry out
          such a nefarious act
              upon my senses”

gathering together my inner strength
I grit my teeth until my jaw starts to spasm
keeping my eyes tightly shut
as I try to recall your smile

I pray fiercely throughout the night
much like a midnight incantation
repeating the same words
over and over again
to no avail

if you were to say
that this affliction
I have been saddled with
is the bane of my existence
I would say
“you’ve hit the nailon the head”

or better yet

just another death-dealing blow to my psyche
Thanks Light
without much effort
he threw open the once latched door
leading into my bed chambers
yelling “flimsy wood”

and from the shadows

he kissed me

with his lips full of lies
his breath reeking of sin

the lust in his rattling bones
echoed throughout the room
as he partook of me

my bated breath collided with his

he spoke not a word
this faceless stranger


treated me with such devilish delights

submerging me in his darkness
his cool fingertips
lying upon my fiery skin

his fluid movements
characteristic of
a well oiled engine
brought me to a secret place

where I could finally be myself
to enjoy my inner demons thoroughly

the midnight hour wrapped itself around me
again and again
like a blanket of pure seduction

and into the darkness
I dared to ask his name

and silence was the only sound

a slice of silver moonlight
pushed itself through the curtains
illuminating the spot where he once laid

now empty and cooling

in a matter of seconds
he was gone
just like that….
We dress in all black when we’re apart,
Two walking shadows trying to escape the dark.
You told me you wanted to feel something,
And you thought cutting yourself open would be a start.
You’re too young to feel this empty,
But what is one to feel without a heart.

Love never told us what to do, but your friends did.
All of the people who couldn’t keep a lover,
Seemed to give the only advice that you listened to.
I tried to bring you to your senses,
But your hearing and our vision seemed to fail.
I said that we should take a break,
And you just told me to go to hell.
I’ve burned to this very day,
My heart too heavy for any scale.

Our home became just another house,
One side of the closet cleaned out.
My patience and hair are running thin.
I just want to be back with you again.
I threw everything away that you left,
Except for our memories, and only the best.

The pills couldn’t rid my mind of you,
But you’re long gone,
And all you left me with was the song
That was your laughter
And the art
That was your smile.
Eroding brick wall
all that remains
refracted, fading
fishermen shadow
red dawn’s early light

brackish still water
shocked violent green
seeps from the desert
to be subsumed
by an unrelenting sea

restless dreamers rise
muscle sturdy pangas
into the churning tide
seeking quicksilver
at the continental edges

returning boats ride low
the shrinking horizon
race to safe harbor
cold beer on ice
under palm palapas

in the restaurant
a young man
shows off tuna
half as tall as he is
to admiring tourists

like me, seeking
the deep, slow burn
salt, jalapeno, lime
a fitting end to this
unraveling dream

Pueblo Mágico
of “no bad days”
walls of contention
in a fractured land
will never separate us

one margarita, two
another raised in defiance
of those who would try
to confine and define
free-range spirits

the Pacific touches
this contiguous shore
from equator to pole
we could catch
a clockwise current

follow Polaris up North
arrive transformed
magnetically charged
disparate souls fused
together bound
Hello and thank you. my HP friends!  I couldn't wish for a kinder, more talented group of people to spend time with.  Thank you for being a part of my life.  Apologies for sporadic reading...been drinking too many margaritas!
: )
unless you are one who writes
it is virtually impossible
to understand the pressure
that a writer sometimes feels
to come up with
the right words to express
their passion deep inside

it can be like a seething volcano

ready to erupt and spill its
hot lava across the pages
burning its way into your very soul

it can be agonizing torture

to create a written masterpiece
to be adored by many
or just a few for that matter

a writers passion includes
but is not limited to

endless nights
shredded papers
their bloodied ink

notebooks stuffed under pillows
journals hidden in closets

and yes yes
even words and phrases
written in lipstick
on the bathroom mirror

so many words that need to be written
to be freed
to be read
and finally to be savored

like a fine glass of wine

writers are aching hearts
that pour themselves
into the night hoping for release

each one screaming
Louder and LOUDER
to be heard
and understood

and we as poets and writers
or whatever we choose to call ourselves
give our absolute all
trying to capture the very essence
of the human condition

and perhaps spread a tiny seed of knowledge
along the way

sharing all that we are
through our simple words
our catchy phrases
and our exquisite descriptions

feeding the dark souls
that hide in the shadows

nurturing the light souls
that dance to the call of nature

and embracing the lost souls
that cry out for redemption

for me
being a writer
is both glorious
absolutely excruciating


*I wouldn’t have it any other way...
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