Sweet melodious dreams fill my head,
Dreams of sugarplums and fairies,
Everything is calm and wonderful.
I am in bliss,
Just as I should be.

“HEY YOU,
What do you think you’re doing?
How can you be relaxing in a time like this?
Look at the mess around you,
The mess YOU created!
You don’t deserve to be in bliss.

There are papers due tomorrow,
Arguments to be had.
And hey didn’t you eat a lot tonight?
Maybe a run is in order,
Not a side of fries.
And my god, everything you say is embarrassing,
Shouldn’t you be trying to fix that?
CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Nothing.
That’s when nothing hits.
The sugarplums go away,
And so does the person in my head,
But that doesn’t necessarily mean that things are good.

Emptiness.
The scariest feeling in the world,
Because it reminds you that you are nothing,
Meaningless,
Worthless.
You can’t breathe,
You can’t speak,
You can’t feel,
You can’t see,
Because there is just,
Nothing.

Panic.
That’s when fight or flight kicks in,
And more often than not I choose flight,
Because my mental strength is lacking,
And I am unable to deal with the pit in my stomach,
And the meaninglessness in my heart.

Sobs fill the darkened room,
Except no one can hear me,
I am alone,
And the walls are closing in,
I feel as though I’m dying,
But since no one around chooses to hear my pain during the day,
Am I really making a sound?
Or are you in a constant state of just,
Panic.

Eventually, I become exhausted from my own emotions,
Crying myself asleep I finally can get peace,
And I wake up in the morning to sunshine and roses,
But I still can’t see them.
I may be awake but my heart really isn’t.
I can walk around and laugh with friends,
But really I’m just waiting my impending doom,
When night starts again.

Your kisses are just as lovely as you are.
Your kisses give me butterflies like how you always give me butterflies.
Your kisses are as sweet as you are too me.
You kisses are like the taste of sugarplums on your lips.
Your kisses give the type of happiness you give me.
You could kiss me a billion times and nothing would ever change the way I feel about you.
I will treat you like a prince, as you are my prince.
I will try to make you happy, how you make me happy.
*Baby, I love your kisses like I love you.

You can hear it in the ringing of bells
And the soundest of stories.
You can see it in the way the snow falls
And the way the world is full of light.
It is the magic all around us,
From the stories of brighter stars
And the idea that maybe
Reindeer can fly in December
And magic hats can bring cold men to life.

Right now
There are some wrapping gifts to give
And others are lighting candles,
All the while
The saints are outside singing
Of the Messiah,
Of God here with us,
Of wishing you a merry Christmas
And maybe we could join them.

But it’s a silent night
And baby
It’s cold outside
So stay a while,
Stay here in the warmth
Of vivid lights and winter memories.
And remember that the breath of heaven
Exists just beyond us,
Just beyond the firelight
Where the smoke billows out of chimneys
And where Nicholas watches and waits
For us to fall asleep
With dreams of sugarplums dancing.

And remember that faith
Is something that keeps us warm
And keeps our spirits merry.
So deck the halls
And let it snow,
Because I have heard
That there are saviors born
Under the bright stars in Bethlehem stables,
Meant to bring peace to all of us.

And right now
There are living nativities
And children rockin’ round evergreen trees,
All the while
There are angles in the sky singing
Gloria,
Of the Messiah.
Singing of joy
And maybe we should listen.

‘Cause it’s a holy night
So remember Jacob Marley,
And the little drummer boy.
And remember the truth of the Christmas story,
That it’s a wonderful life
And that if Charllie Brown’s Christmas tree
Taught us anything,
Is that a little love can make us grow.
So let it snow, let it snow,
Let it snow.

backdrop distends
1. Nine-pane white window woman boasts bellyfull of central air
2. Sneaky sunshine sheets smothering soft sugarplums, sleepy eyes still hung with chandeliers exchange shy glances with a new world hiding behind a
3. Cheerful and robust pink mother waves goodbye to foggy ghost-cold who dangles ten frigid and grainy fingers over tiny tired schoolgirl
4. Black metal wings stretch and return to position while groggy black engine awakes to serve thirty-five malnourished miles
5. Bellyfull of central air scoops up groggy black engine both sneak into smothering sunshine sheets that envelope tiny tired schoolgirl
fade to white

A snowy morning brings forth crisp chills.
Kisses goodbye still hang in the air.
Little feet scamper in to seek warmth.
The bell sounds off, the teachers report.

Children are laughing, they are having fun.
Roll call is taken, and then math has begun.
A dark shadow quickly casts upon the walls.
A morning to forget unfolds...

Innocence is youth, they always say.
Yet how can you encompass innocence
When your friends don't go home?
When you see your mom break down?

Children should laugh, children should play
Parents shouldn't have to see them...
Gone forever.

How can one raise small minds in a cruel world?
When lollipops and sugarplums no longer dance.
Children are children, less never forget.
Give them their youth, give them a chance.

1

decide not to hurt her. but don’t decide to pull her back. if she wants to go she can go. I do not plan on stopping you. it’s not my choice. nonetheless I must warn you; I do not pick up phone calls from numbers I don’t know. if you don’t plan on showing me your scars I don’t plan on showing you mine, I will live inside myself without your help. stop pretending you’re in control.  your presence does not make me a better or worse person.

2

drink beers, sliding your sleeve over the x on your hand. sway like you never stood so still to pretend you were just a charicature so no one caught your scared stench. you **** the stench. you grab it and rip it right out of yourself. **** your rules I will ******* fly, I will ******* dance, I will ******* love. you cannot stop me. you are not my guilt, so stop.

3

look at his eyes as he says it doesn't really matter where you go anymore. safety is not a cold room, an exorcism, or a catechism. mushroom clouds are dancing like rotted sugarplums and fairies with crippled wings in my head. through continuous trial and error life has taught me you can run but you can't hide. don’t take off your coat until you’re two drinks too deep to care if anyone sees the dried blood. laugh at the people who stare, laugh at yourself, laugh at their ******* social rituals. always remember not to let them get you. you are not paying any debts.

4

think about tasting sweat and his pulse. search for it. find none. and you do not require just any pulse. ask him if you are scary, let him touch your open wounds, let him lie and tell you he doesn’t think you’re depressing to be with. even still, you let him win. know that he would gladly take on a less complicated girl. feel like target practice. feel like a faulty product with no receipt. feel like a body, always, you are feeling like a body. it consumes you before you can consume it, filling yourself with holes. This bleeding is further beneath the surface. split skin doesn’t let any more sunshine in. go back to bed sweety. don’t believe in humans. don’t believe in love. they are equally transitory. they are equally fragile. they are equally hungry.

5

think about the fear. think about it. ******* choke on it. do not deny it is there. they never really cared. you don’t really need them to care. So this is what getting older really means. remembering the streets you grew up on before they painted limbs into the pavement. It's hidden in the exhale at the end of the way most people say tired. when what we really mean is, the way things were still lives in my head and i can't deal with the present because it's just a ribbon wrapped around a nuclear bomb. Humming. You tell him you don't think running is worth the effort. He calls you a liar with affection. You are choosing your bus tickets. Like a car driving from a tornado. You just want to see how far you can get. before...

He lies on his grey rug
Beats beating down the drumming dim drum of his heart’s racing thump
And visions of sugarplums become glowing green orbs
On his floor where he flew to light-years above
In a space where they fight with sabers and swords
That ignite only words with such terrifying blows
And he whines along to the morgueish melody below
He screams out the lyrics to prove he knows so
The tap of her foot to the beat of the bass
Makes love to the hairs stemming stars off his arm
But she doesn’t love him so he crawls to his bed
Left her to love the crispy carpet instead

Christmas, Yuletide, Noël, Nativity, Saint Nicholas, Mary, Prancer,
Santa, Elves, Yule Log, Eggnog, Reindeer, Turkey, Presents, children,
Birthday, Bells, Jesus, pumpkin pie, Navidad, Kriss Kringle, Dasher
Ornaments, stockings, sugarplums, Holidays, caroling, gifts, Comet
Christmas Eve, Scrooge, cranberry sauce, sleigh bells, Rudolph,
Christmas lights, Cinnamon Apple spice cider, wassail, Angels, list,
Christmas tree, Blitzen, Mrs. Claus, tinsel, jolly, snowflake, Dancer,
Blitzen, North Pole, snowman, wreath, candy cane, gingerbread,
Merry Christmas!

They say if you cry, you cry alone.
They say it’s a dog eat dog world out there and it isn’t made of sugarplums and rainbows.
But there is a pretty side to this world.
Smile and the world smiles with you
Laugh and the world laughs with you
Hysterically cackle for 10 minutes straight
in dead silence for no apparent reason at the local supermarket
and the world slowly backs away from you
and calls the mental hospital (then you scream: I can’t go back!!)

Ohhhh, riiiight! THAT’S why I don’t have a boyfriend!

Repost if you are just insanely weird like me.

Christmas gifts in cheerful wrappings
Christmas trees with all the trappings
Hoping Santa got your letters.
Yummy family get-togethers.
Nobody wants to go to bed
To let sugarplums dance in their head.
Christmas time is for yearend fun.
The holidays are here for everyone.

It’s a happy time to share the joy
Whether adult or girls and boys
To look forward to, all year long
To join in singing the Christmas songs.
There is no school for many days
So the kids can go outside and play
To ski or have battles with snowballs.
Christmas time is the best of them all.

Some places people go outside and sled
And other people go to the beach instead
But not until they have stopped to see
Each present under the Christmas tree.
"Thank you" is said to all the gift givers
Then a wonderful meal they eat together.
“It’s A Wonderful Life” is showing on TV
And Charlie Brown gets a Christmas tree.

It’s a happy time to share the joy
Whether adult or girls and boys
To look forward to, all year long
To join in singing the Christmas songs.
There is no school for many days
So the kids can go outside and play
To ski or have battles with snowballs.
Christmas time is the best of them all.

Traditions like stockings with the names
And sometimes hilarious family games
Especially when relatives come to call
With eggnog and cookies consumed by all.
If there is snow or palm trees and sand
The best of times have been planned
So everyone can share the great cheer
Now that Christmas at last is here.

January's thaw was ever wont to deceive even the lacklustre souls with visions of sugarplums was that?



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXXVII)


How blue dusk fringes that wee chance t'avail
Myself of scribbling...ere we dine.  Spring hence,
Despite frore winds' most cruel breath, tiptoes thence
Within these longer hours of light.  Though frail
Perhaps in guise, yet O! in keen betrayl
Nor with aught joy, my very soul can sense
Its eye as if upon these wastes, til whence
Is only whether next month shall wax pale.
Yes, will ole Febry yield to April fer
All that?  I feel it in my bones anew,
Half shivring to acknowledge what, as't stir?
Ah, wherefore do I shrink from May, and rue
The hope of daffodils and violets, poor
As all my ecstasies therein?  Who knew?

12Jan18b

He takes his last breath
for the night. The music
from exhaust engines
tire themselves out. Inside,
petty advisors punch their
timesheets, setting aside
solicitations for flowcharts
and returning to their ever
shrinking dormitories.

Good. Now we can begin,
the sugarplums declare.
(or are they centrefolds?)

It begins and ends like
every other cycle, not
that consistency matters
at all. Swivel, sway and
trot, or so is often thought.
Troops of the troupe
clean up nicely without
noise, nor is assembly
required. Soon enough,
the stage is ready.

A very handsome entity
(perhaps) pirouettes. No
matter if the platform
dissolves, for the performer
had rehearsed it between
routines. Now how about
the audience? Has the lone
ticket been sold? And the
theatre, well-unlit?

Yes. The prelude—or truth
be told—distraction bows
itself out. Stagehands,
raise them curtains up!

Eyes have no interest
in foreplay. What is in
play—skydiving?
Wakeboarding? Nudes
to the beholder?
—can only be
temporary. No actor
overstays their place.
Always, an unannounced
but not unexplainable
cameo, a kindred
spirit seeking presence
in the now, only serves
a sense of urgency,
of misplaced longing.

And then,
you wake up.

We moved back into the residence yesterday - we were jubilant - and had a slumb-over last night, to celebrate our reunification. We woke up joyous, on the right side of the same bed (slumb-over), and we’ve been bouncing off the walls ever since.

We’re in the ‘settling in’ phase, restocking our Keurigs, getting our same-’ol furniture in the same-’ol places, picking up our books. In this liminal space, between sugarplums and sutures, our shrinking free-time will sag with increasing weight. Even last night’s normally fabulous martinis began to taste metallically laced with formaldehyde.

Once we’re settled in, our leisure will begin to have the tight, mangled fit of a borrowed jacket. “We’ve got to gear up.” Lisa said, just this morning and even as I type this, my eyes are flitting between my dog-eared copy of Gray's Anatomy and the mcat prep hub.

Classes start in 5 days. Free days burn bright, but disappear in a blink. Time is a precious coin.

slumb-over = slumber party.

of the news the world the hate
took a good book to bed
it was not a book by Weisel
or book of poems by Whitman,
for those were too, way too dark
oppressive, too non-fictional.
I took a book to bed to be read
by the innocent child in me
which rhymed
and made me think
of my mom and dad reading
it Dec 24th of every year,
a classic,
and sugarplums again
danced in my head,
I heard hoofs of tiny reindeer
and only wished
I had not taken down
my X-mas decorations
last year

The snow falls like gossamer
All over the ground
A white winter landscape
With joy all around
Be merry and gleeful
With you and your kin
I'll be inciting mayhem
With my agents of sin

You can keep your young Jesus
and his ol' deadbeat dad
Keep your fat, jolly santa
and his red, leath'ry ol' bag
My sleigh's an old buick
Tricked out with such kit
It makes Captain Kirk's warp drive
An old *******

Merry metal christmas
And a ****** new year

Gather yon virgins
Round the lit evergreen
A more perfect self-sacrifice
I never have seen
Like roasting chestnuts
Their bodies will burst
Smelling of bacon and pine
A potpurrie in a hearse

And sing in the madness
Bring in the new year
A rage of songs and of fury
A purge Christmas's cheer

Merry metal Christmas
And a ****** new year

Kids asleep in their beds
Dreaming of sugarplums
They asked for an xbox
But I brought them guns
Spiked milk and *** cookies
Are fuel for the trip
Huffing tinsel to forget
How fast amazon ships

So beckon your best angels
With your red-ribbon-ed wreathes
While your racist old uncles
Drink, curse, and deceive
My iron reindeer
Care not for north poles
My midgets care not dig
F'r the kids deserving of coal

Merry metal Christmas
And a ****** new year

Wrap yourself in warm blankets
Watch old family films
Drink chocolate and eggnog
Until you've had your fill
When by embers of chimneys
And stockings carefully hung
Muddy footprints by presents
Are proof that someone had come

Fire and burgl'r alarms
Sound out through the night
Telling to one and to all
Have a ******* good night

Merry metal Christmas
I'll see you next year.

not only is the farm abandoned
but all the sheep are dead.
the sugarplums dance on their graves
instead of twirling in my head.
smiles are nonexistent
nobody has a clue
of the million tons of *******
others may be going through.
my brain is being clouded
by all your negative words;
i’ve stopped saying hello to him
despite how much it hurts.
if he is the train
then i am strapped to the tracks,
begging myself to push forward
and never look back.
but my heart gives in,
it’s an endless cycle
of each time promising myself
i won’t reconcile.
but one look at his eyes
or golden curly hair,
and i’ve already started writing him
words beyond compare.
so if he is the farmer
then i am the sheep,
abandoned and killed
for my lack of sleep.

Sugarplums once danced
Now shadows advance stealthily
A grimace replaces angelic calm

Hand on mine
Apologies weigh on eyes and lips
Standing solemn
Hope of comfort

Fog of sleep lifts
Arms wrap, breaths fall into rhythm
Heartbeats synch
calm returns

Pushing aside impish blonde locks
I touch your face, flushed
Perfect

My child
My world
My calming grace

My honour to be your armour
Your safety
Your sweet return to slumber

It’s that time of year
Fall crispness is in the air
Trees abound with bright colors
There scents of apples, cider and pies wafting through the air
Oranges, reds and golds are the colors of choice
Sweaters are pulled out
Vests and coats are worn
Boots and warm socks
Thoughts of holidays fill the mind
Light snow tickles the landscape
Piles of leaves in yards
Holiday decorations in stores
The mindset changes
To a holiday mode
Thoughts of sugarplums
Love, care and charity appear
It’s the season

It’s that time of year
Fall crispness is in the air
Trees abound with bright colors
It’s the season

There scents of apples, cider and pies wafting through the air
Oranges, reds and golds are the colors of choice
It’s the season

Sweaters are pulled out
Vests and coats are worn
Boots and warm socks
Thoughts of holidays fill the mind
It’s the season

Light snow tickles the landscape
Piles of leaves in yards
Holiday decorations in stores
It’s the season

The mindset changes
To a holiday mode
Thoughts of sugarplums
Love, care and charity appear
It’s the season

It’s that time of year
Fall crispness is in the air
Trees abound with bright colors
There scents of apples, cider and pies wafting through the air
Oranges, reds and golds are the colors of choice
Sweaters are pulled out
Vests and coats are worn
Boots and warm socks
Thoughts of holidays fill the mind
Light snow tickles the landscape
Piles of leaves in yards
Holiday decorations in stores
The mindset changes
To a holiday mode
Thoughts of sugarplums
Love, care and charity appear
It’s the season

I won't need the bottle
or a teddy bear.
I won't need a blanky
or a lullaby in the rocking chair

If I can be your baby
I won't need a cuddly doll
a satin dress
or a trip to the mall

If I can be your baby
I won't need a Christmas present,
even if Santa sent it!
I won't need a chocolate bar
a candy-cane or electric guitar.

A pink bicycle with a basket -
I would not ask it
if I had you.
I would not need the sun or the moon,
an ocean breeze.
or a swing on a tree.

I would have
the sun as you smile
the stars as you wink your eyes
an ocean breeze is your stride
the strum from a guitar in your words
your voice dancing as a mockingbird's
your lips sweet as sugarplums

And if the day came
that I was your baby?
Hell, just the idea is making me crazy!