~The Tashtoo Parlour ~

Black Fly

2013-05-21T13:10:00.000-03:00

How selective is the black fly in who he chooses to lite upon?
Does he flit from head to head
sniffing for the scent that gets his blood lust raging?
When he catches that scent
attaches and starts to suck the life essence from the host
how long before he moves on?
Is it natures who writes the rules
marks the hours
and forces separation
Or is it his own gluttony
sucking, sucking, never satiated
devouring worlds without thought of consequence
like a dog
swallowing till bursting
intoxicated
drunk on secrets no one else will ever know
death in the ecstasy of revelation.

Bedtime Story

2013-05-16T22:05:00.002-03:00

The smoke is sweet
the dark is strong
time to sing
a lonely song
a simple verse of solitude
when heart is weak
and night grows long

The candle burns
the flame does dance
catches my eye
become entranced
lose myself to a memory
of what was before
I took this chance.

And still the sand
falls so slow
one lonely grain
for every blow
each memory of better times
erases much
the need I know.

So very well
the warning song
when smoke is sweet
the night is long
when solitude is not your friend
you convince yourself
you were wrong.

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When Good People Break I Get Scared ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-05-14T10:27:00.001-03:00

I totally understand you fear a thief in the night.
The criminal element that teams and steams through your neighborhood
Just waiting for the chance to do you in.
I understand that you need to protect your family from such riff-raff
The bowels of society
ready to fire if you dare cast eyes upon them.
Do you understand what the odds are
of the bad guys engaging you?
Look it up,
Learn some perspective.

I understand how much your rights mean to you.
Totally believe in fighting tooth and nail to hang on to them.
Especially those ones who served your ancestors
better than they serve us.
I feel the panic that sets in
at the thought of one of those rights being stripped from you
Gut reaction
History, tradition. Generations!
You are where you came from...the bloodline is strong...
Just wanted to remind you...we also have the right not to.
Think about it.

And to think, a government would have the nerve
to try to strip you of your rights...
the big ones catch all the attention,
but they are much more sinister in their dealing with
the ones that really matter.
I understand your need to feel as though you can protect yourself
from their onslaught with a rifle
preferably continuous rapid fire
I know when the time comes
to stand and defend
the guns we have armed ourselves with will make all the difference.
Not like The Man
holds bigger weapons.

I do have trouble with understanding
red tape
regulation
fees
...these things will not help us protect ourselves
perhaps, if we are forced to stand in line long enough
the killing urge will pass...
You know what scares me the most in all this?

Mr. Smith
He lives just down the street from me.
Brilliant man really.
Had a recent run of bad luck.
Well-to-do...or used to be.
Cut loose from the job he held for over 30years
overqualified
replaced by an unpayed intern who saw worth in experience.
all in the name of profit.
A caring husband. And well noted for it.
Alas, returned home early for supper
and found the Mrs. enjoying a favorite pastime
he thought she only enjoyed with him.
A young strapping son
who could toss the pigskin with the best of them
cruising thru to full scholarship
until he was busted with a dime bag in the parking lot
of the local 7/11...
I've been watching.
The grass has turned to straw
taking over the picket fence
of his normally perfectly manicured lawn.
The blinds, always drawn now.
The newspapers, overflowing the curb.
I also remember
on one of those awkward visits
when the urge to be neighborly overtakes,
Mr. Smith displaying the beautiful gun collection
passed down and added to over generations.

When good people go bad.
When they are pushed to their breaking point
and payback is the only way
I would prefer...they didn't have guns.
The chance of me
getting caught in the cross-fire
of broken human versus the world
is just too great.

The odds of the world breaking me
are even better
and the last thing I would want to have access to
on my journey to batshit crazy
is anything
with bullets.

Envy ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-05-13T17:51:00.001-03:00

She is beautiful, almost regal
tall, confident
I envy her
not knowing
the perfect makeup
hides the still swelling bruises
from last nights lesson.

He drives a Lexus
Pearl black
moon roof, spoiler
I envy him
not knowing
there's a white notice
taped to the door of his high rise
that will have him driving that Lexus off a cliff
Into a desperate night
well before the coming dawn.

He looks at her
I see the love
I envy them
Not knowing
he will look at another the same way
before he lands home for the supper
she's sprinkled with her heart.

I look in the mirror.
and hate myself
for being so quick to judge.

Come Together ~ #poetry #prose @Tashtoo

2013-05-09T11:57:00.000-03:00

Never, has your pain flown to me faster.
Never, have I been able to get close enough to count your tears.
Always, the truth would be filtered
watered-down
Your story
told through somebody else's voice
Today
I get to talk to you.

And "THEY" fear that,
because you get to me first,
they have no chance to convince me you hate me
because of my sex, my color, my nation.
They can't bend me to the point of breaking
for simply taking my news
straight from the horses mouth...
or can they?

I see them trying.
You must see it too.
Or are you really one of them, deep down
Ready to sell your truth
for the good life.
Would you sacrifice my secrets
if it meant you would be housed and sheltered?
I wouldn't blame you...
we all need to eat.

Most of "THEM" started with a sincere and honest attempt
to make the world a better place.
Thought the system wouldn't get to them,
believed they could make a difference,
and walked blindly into the line of fire,
their sense of morals corrupted
their sense of justice flipped to one sided
their own secrets recorded and registered
their own life threatened
based on noncompliance and high ideals

It is the human way.
Every system, in it's design, flawless
on paper serving the common good
in the hands of man
serving only themselves.

I have nothing of any worth that you can covet
I have nothing of any value that might tempt you
I've been clawing my way out of this system
to see
if perhaps
somewhere in the hearts of men
I can find the desire
to truly come together

for the global good.

One World.

Break ~ #poetry #prose @Tashtoo

2013-05-08T09:44:00.000-03:00

I get incredibly frustrated when I can't fix something.
Call it a sense of failure, an overwhelming mass
of black cloud cover that pisses me off beyond all comprehension.

Answers are always easy. The fault is always our own.
Out of this frustration comes the urge to break shit.
Tear it down, blow it up
and start from scratch.

Never mind the wounds
the bleeding hearts
nor the minds you have messed with

Never mind the lies
the tears
nor the games played with mine

If I am anything...it is stubborn
out of all my failures
comes the drive to do it better
harder, faster

learn and move on
write a poem
write a novel
or just break shit.

Then glue the pieces back together
out of place, off trend
and call it art.

A mosaic of every fractured relationship
a collage of every scar
china fragments of a heart
only born to break.

Fusion ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-05-07T22:17:00.000-03:00

Let's let go
right now.

Let's fall.
Forget about all this.
Slip...

I've killed the light.
I've warmed the dark.

These arms will guide you
Let my voice lead

With heated whispers
a beating heart

My shadow sings with me
a dark duet, left to linger

a simple echo
of emptiness

swallowed
when two souls collide.

I Dream Too ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-05-03T11:51:00.000-03:00

Thinking in poetic terms, I liken this time in my life to the butterfly...busting out of that cocoon
but rainbows and butterflies I am not
and to write about these times, in such a fashion
would only serve to perpetuate the myth
that this life I'm living is not my own.

I have fought very hard to make dreams come true
for everybody else.
Shouldering resentment, the burden grew heavy
I have whined and bitched, moaned and cried
but never admitted, that I was never actually asked to chase these dreams.

I chased them, out of my own sick and twisted need
to see a smile on somebody else's face, because my own fake grin
shouted impostor at me so loud from the bathroom mirror every morning
I thought the only way to shut it up was to sacrifice my own dreams
in service to others.

Somewhere, out of all this struggle that I have created for myself
I think...god willing...I have, in actuality, moved a little closer to courage,
to the understanding that it's okay to work for me
for my dreams.
Now...that I have my own permission
or rather, a notion of it being okay
I just have to figure out what those dreams are.

Closure ~ #Poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-04-28T12:09:00.000-03:00

The scent of last night still lingers
a musk, heavy, heady
like so many secrets
shoved under the bed
to be devoured by the monsters
that haunt me.

Dawn is a strange light
in the afterglow of a quart
of crown royal
and inhibitions forgotten

Still, in the surreal and smokey grey
his is a shadow that comforts
familiar, safe
all those things we love to cling to
when dawn has left us confused and doubting

Crossed lines blur to faded memories
swallowed by the tears I don't why I'm crying
his breath, even in sleep
heavy enough I need not fear his waking...yet.

Rape Culture ~ #Poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-04-25T09:32:00.000-03:00

He stood beside me as the the news played on.
I had known him for years
Well meaning, kind hearted, intelligent, educated
White collar to the nines
worked for the government
complete with 1.5 daughters at home
just coming of age in this messed up digital era

Yet again, our hearts both devastated
as news of another young girl
raped, assaulted, and mocked,
by a school, by a community,
by the same digital era that as parents, we both feared
had finally given in to the abuse
and taken her own life.

Four boys, a smart phone camera
yet, despite being the victim
It was she who was shamed.

I watched his face grow whiter
I saw the fear in his eyes
I knew he was thinking of his girls
It gave me hope
until he spoke...

"How are we going to teach our daughters they can't be getting drunk like that?"

Biting my tongue did no good
the pain was too much to bare...

"How about teaching our sons that just because she's drunk doesn't mean she wants to fuck"

Crass...perhaps
but how much longer can we deny the issue.

He didn't respond,
and I realized...that same mind, probably didn't think much of me
being a woman and speaking in such a manner.

The screen shot changed
A flyer on a telephone pole
on the victim's street
bold yellow paper
bold black print

"Support our boys"

My stomach rolled again...
it's been rolling ever since...

Shame on us.

Origami ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-04-22T09:31:00.000-03:00

There are no corners here that meet
still, I insist on trying
tip to tip
crooked
slip
a crease
so firm and indented
there's no hope of fixing it
love scar one

Still
if I try to fold this way
maybe
we can pretend the crease is not there
use the crinkles
the scars
as foundation for the next attempt
love scar two

Now an "x"
Raw and red
my fragile paper
permanently marred
but you're never supposed to stop trying
flip and reverse
pretend we're starting from scratch
love scar number three

The truth is hard
there is no swan to be revealed here
third times the charm
or perhaps just the proof I need
this is one art form I'll never master
So, it's straight to the trash for you
there will be no recycling
of this paper heart.

Separate & Isolate

2013-04-17T19:18:00.000-03:00

No matter what war you may be waging, the enemy always manages to win from within.
This is nothing new. Society has even accepted a term with unlimited definition.
Terrorism. This fear with many faces, wears a similar handle. Terrorist.
Tell me your fears, if you would be so kind.
Can we be sure they're the same as mine.
If we look within, so many horrors to find.
To share them, would almost be unkind.
But tell me...are they all the same?

Once we're done comparing notes and reliving our nightmares,
what is more terrifying than not knowing your enemy?
Until she becomes the queen of an elaborate and convoluted checkmate
to the King you thought you were.
Without knowing her motive, defining her intent, you are allowed to remain in her service.
This is not a feeble attempt, rather a hostile and violent takeover.
Knowing that to name your fear is to gain your control,
she presents you your nemesis on a silver platter.
All of humanity, in a definition so vague, yet so utterly terrifying,
any trust you had left dies a slow cold death.
Fear once a figment, now comes slowly creeping
Into your thoughts, your dreams while your sleeping
Causing you to wake in the night softly weeping
Your bubble, your comfort, so intent on keeping
With no one to trust, what are you left with?

So you start to worry, wonder, imagine, what the neighbor might be up to.
You couldn't afford the barbecue this year, anyway. So you skip it, spend the time at home.
Alone.
The strange couple who just moved into the farm at the edge of town.
Who would want to live in that?
You start hitting the grocery store, once a week, as early as possible to avoid possible eye contact.
The world's a scary place after all. You've got to look out for you.
In the back of your mind you wonder, "...is everybody doing this?"
Imagine if they were...

Really...aren't they? Slowly, one by one, can't you feel the people falling back?
Maybe, haven't you fallen a little bit too?
Think for a moment what this might mean...
and please, tell me
why are we giving them the chance to divide and conquer?
More than ever, right now, we've got to stop fighting each other.
We have to realize, the power lies within us, acting as one, for the common good of all.
To separate and isolate, they win us one by one.
No matter what war you may be waging, the enemy always manages to win from within.

To The People Who Say "I Told You So"

2013-04-16T12:08:00.000-03:00

I could say I should have listened to you,
taken YOUR judgement of others
and missed the brilliant opportunity
because you told me it would end up this way.

But what if I told you
I knew it would.
Most relationships
are based on give and take.

Two roles requiring two volunteers.
I stepped up. I did good.
Helped a ton of people.
and you know what...

that made me feel good! Perhaps, I'm the selfish one in all this.

The fact there was no help for me
when I needed it
when I asked
should not be surprising.

We all get caught up in the real world
lose jobs, lose spouses
some of us even lose our faith in humanity
but no matter how hard I'm used

I don't think I could lose that...for more than a moment anyway.

So you keep on keeping on
Talking your shit
driving wedges between people
killing relationships before they have a chance to begin

And I'll keep on keeping on too
the benefit of the doubt
second chances
all that silly fodder

On those times I do get burned
I will smile when you say I told you so
and prepare my heart for the next battle.

Recovery ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-04-13T09:00:00.000-03:00

She was in her mid-thirties.
Broken, beaten, some wounds fresh, most festering
Sick, so sick
Chin deep in recovery
looking for the hope that would keep her head above the black see
that hungered for her essence.
Fucked up and living in our spare room,
no bigger than a closet,
because she honestly had no place else to go.

I was 15 and watching.
Watching a mother, so sick, she sacrificed her relationship with her own children on a daily basis.
Watching a woman, so sick, she would lay with any stinking man who would have her
Even at 15, I understood
that addiction
The need to feel wanted, connected
An urge to feel alive so pathetic she would trudge through the cesspools of contaminated and distorted hunger...
Because once you got deep enough, the pain can finally reach you,
and the part of you that feels it...can be the sick and twisted hope that keeps you going.

I received her life lessons on a daily basis.
Life lessons meant for a daughter my own age...yet they fell to me.
Perhaps because of the guilt of her condition
Guilt so raw and red
no amount of hail Mary's, tribal sweats, or vicious lashings could chase it away.
The lesson here is always time
When you're in it...you never see it.
To watch one fall from such an amazing height and live to tell the tale is a lesson in itself.

The beauty of the story...
when you take the long view of history and look back
is, she made it.
20 years later, she's still preaching
delivering her life lessons to her daughter, and anyone else who has the ears to hear.
And it is beautiful...amazing...a miracle
but it's a sad ending too
because something on her insides won't let her see
that in her recovery
she took the win in the hardest battle any of us can ever have to fight
Her mere existence in this realm
let alone her sober smile
is the most amazing example any of us will ever have, of miracle.

Poor Taste ~ #Poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-04-09T17:50:00.000-03:00

Let's talk about sex baby...
take our minds off those other things
those strange stirrings
that lead one to venture beyond physical

Let's drown in a sea of slippery innuendo
word play and rosy cheeks
casting a neon glare through
a cliched cloud of smoke

Pool hall lingo goes down
much like a wet dream on Monday morning
when the alarm fails to wake you
and your roommate ran out the hot water

I've seen that dance
the only thing that makes you blush
rush
and avoid my gaze.

So many awesome conversations
sacrificed because you were too afraid to raise your voice
more concerned with the raising of other things
a too easy distraction

Where instant gratification lasts almost as long as you
If I'm lucky.
This certain stimulation
leads to moral obligation
in the hearts of most
I'll let you coast
but be warned
like you
It all starts in my head.

Mercy Kill

2013-04-02T10:36:00.000-03:00

If I let go of this fear
I know I could force you to finish me.
The death of a memory
Don't make it any more than that.

If I could somehow
find it within myself to bring down the hurt
the way you've shown me to
we could stop dragging this out.

That you use my weakness against me
that you know how much I bleed inside
that you could rip and shred and still leave me breathing
as though my scars need to match your own.

I've done nothing but lick your wounds
love your dark
and accept your ways.

I've sacrificed dreams, spat on ambition
and stood by you through every random tantrum.
I gave you me
You took lifetimes

Now we meet at a tipping point.
I could have finished you long ago.
But the ounce of heart I have left won't let me do it.

I give up.
I surrender.

I kneel now before you.
Unarmed.
No malice.

Just the hope you'll make it quick.

SO...it's my turn to prep the pub for OpenLinkNight...think Brian and Claudia would mind if I sip from the poetry while I do? In desperate need of a drink ;) We'll be linking up at 3pmEST...see you at dVersePoets!

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Thrill Alone ~ #Poetry #Prose

2013-03-26T13:22:00.000-03:00

A stolen moment...captured on the banks of the lake where we were never wanted.
They have no idea of the path beaten through the brambles by feet unworthy.
So close once to being there with papers...formal ownership
when we believed such things existed.

How is it possible to divide the the invincible? There was a time I never thought it was.
Like the seasons...like warranty deeds
everything changes hands eventually...why would I assume
we were somehow different...immune to the genocide born within out hearts.

Wonder if they know how often we slipped into their drink naked, contamination under a full moon
Trespassing upon lands brought forth by our mother, stolen by our father, and sold
traded for paper and status, now fenced, like so many bleeding hearts
trapped in the fear of being alone.

You can feel her dying. Each year, she slips away a little more
sacrificed in the name of progress
This year I will miss her. The moments. The sunsets.
and those illicit memories, drifting away, like the smoke that fueled our courage

I can smell Spring now, despite the snow and ice that still decorate the banks
but the brambles remain dead, late blooms hardly visible
the thrill is not nearly the same alone.
There is no fear of leaving footprints in the snow...no adrenalin rush from fear of being caught

Knowing I'll not return, I want to holler...stamp my feet in the treacherous March mud
and scream how dare you.

Yet...it's only my own heart, that knows why.

It's that time of week again...pulling out the words for OpenLinkNight at dVersePoets...

Self-Induced Sympathetic Arousal

2013-03-23T16:01:00.004-03:00

It's like a marriage of Heaven & Hell
just ask Blake...though he coined the phrase
I doubt he knows my intent, no matter where his ghost may be hiding...

Perhaps Huxley would prove an interesting traveling companion
but his doors of perception were only opened for an afternoon
I want time to slip, drip, unsupervised

Under a universal desert sky
dancing to the tribal drums
as mortar and pestle crush, rush

our demons rise to dance fire side
a summoning of Dionysus...but I wish not to drink wine
I want whiskey, with a powder rim

I want the ghost of Jim

I want to chase rainbows across the sky
recline with Picasso, contorted and distorted
cubed and packaged in a soup can

trailing with Warhol to my final destination

I want to know their secrets
I want to breath their courage
I want to trip with wild abandon

I want my prefrontal cortex to wake the hell up
I want to trigger the neurons and tickle
sympathetic arousal

I want to write from experience
I want to paint what I really see

I want to pop peyote with Jim Morrison
travel back to the highway
see what he really saw
and know it wasn't a dream.

Who would you want to visit with if you could pick ANYBODY...that's a tough prompt...think about it...do we go for knowledge, power, good, bad...so many spirits throughout history I'd love to have coffee with...but coffee's boring by times...and I think the ghost of Jim would be up for my trip...Join us for Poetics over at dVersePoets and share your prompt companion.

All Piled Up ~ #poetry by @Tashtoo

2013-03-19T09:26:00.000-03:00

I have never revealed my truth to anyone.
I've lied, I've sinned,
I've played dress-up and lived persona's that never fit
all in an effort to keep them from finding out.

To this day, no one knows my story
though many will have no trouble thinking they can tell you
I laugh, and let them have their say
My walls are strong

There is strength in knowing
only I know.
It means no matter how nasty they get
No matter how low-blow, knee to the groin dirty
they want to play
they've got nothing if they're not starting with fact.

We show so many faces
run so many stories
but when was the last time you spent a moment with your truth.
Not the bullshit they sell you
through self-help books and motivational speeches
(Yup...got that down too)
but the bullshit that is you?

That festering, stinking pile where you've buried every dream you know you'll never realize.
That manure heap where the stench keeps them from digging too deep.
Putting distance between them and the bleeding heart they want you to believe they understand.
They don't have a fucking clue.
None of them do.

Today's face will be a happy one.
It almost always is.
They are always so much easier to fool
when I'm smiling.

And when the sun goes down,
I'll grab my shovel
and pray the walls that house my pile
won't burst.

There will be time to build new walls
tomorrow.

Firing up the pen for OpenLinkNight with dVersePoets. Doors open at 3pmEST.

Jack in the Green ~ #Poetics @dVersePoets

2013-03-16T13:59:00.000-03:00

Winter's steely clutch begins to loosen
You can smell him waking
earth, the scent of the cold season's casualties
gone to ground
a birthing bed
as he rises from his slumber.

It is the ancient heat of Cernunnos rising
Wild god of the forest
Pan's flute sings throughout blossoming limbs
tangling roots
mad May Day frenzy
and fairies gather to serenade

Old lovers return to the wilds of their youth
as desire springs
Young maidens blush
as young bucks prance
and dare to dance
their mating colours on show

Alive in the spirit
frantic in the fever
as nests are forgotten
feathered for a season who's time has come.

Seeds are planted in the promise of harvest
legends reborn in the haze of red dawn
as the final epitaphs are written
and the lost soldiers are sent forth
their ghosts honored
as the ivy crawls the walls.

@ManicDDaily has the prompt all prepped for dVersePoets today. Poetics goes live at 3pmEST and you're welcome to come and play poet with us...think green.

Win Pulse by @Tashtoo

2013-03-14T13:34:00.001-03:00

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Pulse

by Natasha Head

Giveaway ends April 15, 2013.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Soldiers of Light ~ #OpenLinkNight @dVersePoets

2013-03-12T12:37:00.000-03:00

There are those moments
when we stumble upon a soul
that convinces us there is better.
One that turns our eyes to the inside,
to the walls we ourselves have built
in a defense against those souls
who are not...better.

They become a light in our darkness
a personal beacon that allows us to follow
to learn, for but a brief moment
within this timeless existence
so perhaps upon rebirth
we can carry those lessons with us.

They are few and far between
these givers of light, of hope.
They are champions for acceptance,
accept all without argument
listen, converse
not ready to defend their own truth
if it means belittling yours

Unlike the majority
they refuse the mass systematization
of beliefs, philosophies
Instead, choosing to explore potential
What do we learn by cowering in fear
judging without fact
condemning without reason.
Why do the ghosts of our ancestors make us run
as though their burdens are our own to bear.

These souls
few as they may be
are proof of better.
Angels who walk among us
teaching, guiding
but never forcing.

Allowing the mistakes
forgiving us our sins
and housing in their hearts
a genuine desire
that we become all we were meant to be.

Understanding of the simple fact
the more who shine their light
the brighter the world will be.

Claudia is prepping the pub as we speak for OpenLinkNight. Pulse is now available on kindle ...and I'm going to ask you for your support ....this month at neueregelradio we are donating our time and efforts to the support of Autism Awareness...your help in the promotion and sharing of 12HoursForAutism would be appreciated, by so many, more than you know.

Bread on the Table~ #Poetry

2013-03-09T16:38:00.001-04:00

Okay...ad-lib poetry. Asking for a word list from a mini-me who's making cup cakes in the kitchen means her creativity was flowing else where...and this is what she gave me to work with, as per the instructions found at Poetics with Brian Miller over at dVersePoets

The List:

table
bread
instructing
counting
feeding
tight
blue
pink
book
children

The resulting Poem:

Bread on the Table

Systemized to the dream

Rule book set

Blue collar tight

Thus begins the fight

But they change the rules when you aren't looking

Collar becomes cuff in the definition of nonessential

A pink slip left to greet you

On the heels of Monday morning

30 hours becomes 60

Stopped counting at 80

Missed first steps

and concert recitals

Gave every ounce of your being

as their manifesto instructed

The Cost

The Education

The Ritual Sacrifice of everything you ever dreamed

in exchange for false promises

Prosperity and potential

In exchange

for slavery

Cut loose and left to fend for yourself

A criminal of the system's design

Forced underground to feed your children

Over-qualified to go hungry.

Okay...took some creative liberties with the list...but truth be told, I wasn't really feeling the cupcake mood ;) Get your pens to the pub poets...Poetics is underway.

RUN

2013-03-07T09:11:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I sleep
allow the nightmares to run free
and wake
sweating
scream caught in my throat
too terrified to move
more tired than I was
before I succumbed to slumber.

The same feeling
all too real in waking hours
compels me to venture deeper
longing to face the monsters that keep me running
To find a way to stop
to acknowledge
what lives and breathes
just beyond my reach.

There is very little sympathy for unnamed demons
as though by their very name they are brought into the light to die.
There are those who would have you believe that
I know better...
for I have swam in the black magic of prophecy
to see their birth
and have felt the heat of the fire
that does nothing more than tear your soul.
Leaving cracks that allow them entrance.

I have been told the only solution is to exist within a realm
where my mind has been numbed
dumbed down
sealing the cracks within a fog of disillusionment
false security
on the side of your mind you have blinded
only because you lack the courage to face the truth

I no longer desire these blind, unseeing eyes
I seek to shatter the shadows
tear through the cracks
and in the light that bursts forth
live or die in the truth of myself.

I'm visiting with Kim today over at Muse In The Valley....stop by and share my rainbow with me...

Off With Her Head ~ #Poetry @dVersePoets

2013-03-05T09:06:00.000-04:00

I get incredibly tired of fighting
I don't do it well
Truth be told
I don't do it at all.

Call me walk-away
Call me quitter
Call me weak
Call me bitter

Call me every undeserved name in the book
I walk away for you.

I have helped you hide the truth of you
helped you kill and bury so much shame
So deep, you now have the nerve to use my own against me

Every secret confession whispered in moments of quivering weakness
The scent of indiscretion never phasing
The sweat of guilt, judgement,
every single fear I admitted
now used to make me feel less than worthy
just a dirty girl pulled out of the shadows
to have every complex debated
every bleeding hatred
displayed under the lights of burning fluorescent

You were dead to me so very long ago
But the fear of failure kept your heart beating
how was I supposed to know
in my effort to sustain you
it was me who would be left dying.

Public execution
Off with my head.

With the launch of "Pulse" coming up tomorrow...I've not been a very good comrade in arms for the poetic army. Looking forward to getting back to my screwed up sense of normalcy, and I can think of no better way than hitting dVersePoets for OpenLinkNight...doors open at 3pmEST and you're more than welcome to join us.