gazing at vivid red brickswilling myself to evaporateinto the rough white stufflaying snuggling in betweenscarlet spies my secrets seen torrents of rain battering tinbolts of lightning are cracklingdogs a hollering so terrifiedmama’s orders down she layout tonight, the dogs will stay Please read the rest of my poem here on THE EDGE OF HUMANITY MAGAZINE …
Category: dysfunction
My new poem live on The Edge of Humanity “High price”
Arising from the loamy soil and red clay emits the realm of cotton and tobacco. Their breaths are a land of drudgery where drops of scarlet seep from hands that pick the whites of her thorny eyes. Growing in fields of lost magnolias and gardenias adrift, where scentless trees play jazz for fairies and whippoorwills. …
We Dance For Silence
Like a snake sheds his skin so go we, those of us who bravely venture onFilled with heightened senses as vigilantly, we quietly roam till dawn. Exposed our emotions on our shoulders perched like the raven black,Hearing whispers, feeling stares, why we grow eyes high upon our back. Lost amongst the others, those who gather, but wonder…
My Poem “Abused Child,” Now featured on The Edge of Humanity Magazine
do not presume to know me my face a frowning moon crevices of sadness besmear a hoary soul who wonders here To continue reading on Edge of Humanity, please click here – please also follow and consider donating to their magazine. Big thanks to Joelcy Kay, Editor and Curator of The Edge of…
Blood Petunias
coming from the land of the drunken sunwhere he ended and I barely dare becomeshe was a crow that brought us all togetherrum drizzling, thunderbolt winter weatherrioting lot she was afflicting all kinds of harmliving on those four acres of our teeny farmbleeding red petunias into fine white sandthriving while growing things on fertile landforgiveness…
Bowl of Sorrow
my eyes swollen, arousing now, the floor vanisheshobby horse clings to a ceiling that does not existfragments of skin reek of fear, never ceasingmy heart is pounding, breathless for airbecoming that boney, big-eared childyou are no longer kind to mepretending not to seefor I am cagednot free
Abused child
do not presume to know memy face a frowning mooncrevices of sadness besmeara hoary soul who wonders here wounds scab, heal and gazeas an eyeless void, she paintsno peak can lug the weightof a child begotten such a fate
My New Face
faces are skin for viewing, not for judginghiding one side of mine to forget the slaps it tookI ask us why is it so difficult for us to embrace our look if my face was right, my thin body wrongthe sea’s entire palette of blue surrounded mein my teenage years, something not many bothered to…
Magnolia Sweet
Skin leaching brown hues like fragments of oozing figs gone badWindows reacting with endless weeping of humidity trappedVases with parched flowers thought to bewitch and beguile usAre eaten by dust mites exploding with toxic, endless self-shameShrouded in enigmas an ill room of wicked waywardness cameCrack by unnerving crack she brought it down with her blame…
Regrets of a Southern Death
gazing at her photo as if measures of time were echosof the rapid beat of a hummingbird’s wingfor if he dared to linger upon the fading vision that was once hereven a second longer, her death would occur all over againexcept for his memory, she was salt mixed with brown ash, bone andfour long screws…