When the world ends.

And there was a world of possibility in this hell she lived, in this abyss of flesh and walls.

Dancing above the discarded waste, she swayed, she swayed to the freedom of foul smelling air.

Animal, beast, desperate wretch, lips painted with blood still fresh. The thirst thrust upon her

through yearning, longing, blasphemous desires. Whore caged and tortured, deranged and medicated.

Forgotten in the wreckage of days material long gone and spent.

Upon the scorched decay stood still. Savage.

The orange light of the dying sun shone clear over her ever changing flesh. Rebirth burnt its last remains.

True form and beauty let loose in reality of the feral nature near destroyed.

Natural violence through passion and flesh. Fire that courses like wind through

veins boiling the blood that thickens and feigns.

And there she stood, the only living soul, chest beating deeply, heart left to moan.

Eyes miraculous, glowing, wet with dew. As the beast is set free.

No bars, no walls. Free in the death, the burnt remains of suffocation, derogation, manipulation of the senses.

Dancing in the waste burning outward to deface the body once captured, once object-formed and standard.

Swayed she sways to the explosion of veins, to the remarkable chains, setting flesh to flame.

Cured of restriction ash falls from the skies once a danger like acid, like pills to the mind.

She dances in grace, in full form, and lace, she screams to the stars her lungs fit to burst.

Exploding like a match, heart swells with passion.

The animal, the creature, the truth and its master.

(September 14 2012)

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Shepard

I have lived a thousand lives
none of which were mine
I have shepherd many flocks
and been left by roadside
I have watched them come
and I have watched them go
speaking as they got the lessons
but never do they know.
I have lived a thousand lives
none of which were mine
guiding those who might have grown
if they had thought to thrive
but I know only of their choices
when they chose to go
I have lived a thousand lives
but never have I known
the kindness of mine own self
the emptiness I’ve sown.

 

The dissociated brain

Have you ever felt
inside out?
Backwards and forth
like someone else.
Ever looked at him
and thought that is me
felt the utter horror
of not existing
replace all your thoughts
with what his could be?
Just have to shake it off
no point in listening
it’s just your fucking mind
not reality
but this won’t move aside
no it’s meant to be
can’t hold this in sight
I’ve let go of me.
All these symptoms collide
and his face takes over me
he’s just handing me my change
but I’ve become a he
if I don’t break this hold
I might end up in ward b-reality
it chokes on my brains news feed.
I cannot keep up with these
thoughts you see
reality is not something meant to be
it’s quite tiresome you see
I can go a long way just to breathe
but the scenery becomes a bit of paint
and every interaction is unsafe
I may walk away fighting your face
thoughts of living your life in your place-
my reality in space, no memories or piece
of who I might be.
Have you ever lived your life this way?
I have to be aware to stop the pain
exhausted though I am
I will remain.

Ode to bisexuals

Ode to bisexuals
who are never harmed
by stereotypes
or jokes taken too far.
To the ones
who don’t notice the hate
in your stare
for not noticing
the disdain in the air.
Ode to bisexuals
the picky and proud
to the ones who play stereotypes
and the ones who aren’t bound.
Ode to bisexuals
who don’t get harassed
though what you’ve been through
should be defined as that.
Ode to bisexuals
the erased and abused
to all of those who
have been beaten and used.
To the ones the community
just up and forgot
unless they remember to fling
hate at our lot.
To the ones who have loved, lived
and have thrived.
To the ones who
didn’t make it out alive.
Ode to bisexuals
who believe in themselves
no matter what the rest say
you know you’re valid as well
never forget that your stories matter.
Ode to bisexuals
and always remember:
you aren’t gay enough-
you don’t even have to try,
no passing privilege-
you are just bi, bi, bi.

I wore pants to church

I remember the days
when I had to wear a skirt to pray
those jumpers my dismay
but I wore them to school anyway.
I remember the days
confused by what I saw
not even four foot tall
not sold on what I was taught
one day I just woke up
saw it for what it was
and said I’d had enough.
I remember the day
I wore pants to pray
the nuns stopped me in my tracks
but I never once looked back
told them to call my parents
my mother on their side-the merits
of properly dressed females
but my father stood by my details
told him of my discomfort
that I refused injustice
that I would pray in pants
and he told them again my stance.
I remember the days
that I knelt down to pray
God on my shoulder always leading the way.
I remember the days-
Catholic memories
of standing up to nuns
and living comfortably.
I remember the days
only a little girl at play
when I changed the system
never needing permission
just God’s little vixen.

freedom in nothing

Everything is broken
nothing here is right
there really is no certainty
but we sleep at night
awake without eyes open
pockets empty too
I’m not sure what I’m doing
but at least one thing is true
that everything is broken,
poor and rusted through
I’ve torn my heart right open
and found a home with you.

American Benefits

I don’t have a drug problem
I don’t have a baby
what I have are bills to pay
with no assistance to save me.
I pay into benefits
they don’t offer me anyway.
I am not a junkie or a single mom
if I were today most my problems would be gone
if I came illegally or was a refugee
the government would provide me
money to get onto my feet
but I have lived a good life
I’ve been responsible
I gave my life to social work
but could be without a home
I have worked my whole to make it comfortable
I have given up my mind
and now I’m on my own.
Never thought my country
would turn out not to be my home
a place where all my labor
turns out to be on loan
for someone very different
to make it all their own.
No, I have lived a good life
but now I’m on my knees
there is nothing left in a country
filled with thieves
we protect all others
leaving good citizens to bleed.

tagged

I am ceramic
fragile and tragic
frozen in place
where you led me.
Statue of stone
bathed in this gold
I have no soul
can you save me?
I am ceramic
precious, fragile,
and sold.

Froth

Can you tell me how
how to steal this sound
take the voice so loud
and drown it out, out, out-
break the waves that cull the demons
sing the pleasure as you mean it
never wander far from home
unless you know not where you go
footsteps buried under snow
blackened feet and bloodied soul
know not where you ought to roam
foam at the mouth
know no moan
can you tell me how it’s done
or sell me back what I have won?

Lena and the sacrificial Lamby

Only the best mothers do
what it is that you would not
you see protecting you from harm
might mean they harm a lot
for when the day is done
and all her resources gone
you will end up returned
to where you truly belong.
All the money in the world
a shelter a better home
a dog is just a toy you see
not a child born
but Lena Dunham flips the script
a different recollection
of abusive events
before and after snap shot tense
she claims trainers, lessons and money spent,
but four years of training-
never a muzzle?
no, this loving mother
thought it too much trouble
to give her little Lamby
anymore attention
so she did what we now must
give a little mention
back to where he came from
that is where she sent him
just a special chance
at a postnatal abortion.