Tainted Orange


There is something morbid

About the bright orange jumpers

Worn by inmates

Like fluorescent blood

Smeared over the remains

Of a crime scene

Sins annulled

By concealment

If only color could


The darkness within


When I was a child

I went to the first

Of many funerals

My uncle came wearing

His shocking veneer

Like a Chinese paper lantern

He came with armed guards

And shades of violence

Reflected in heavy chains


If only he’d had a mask

So I wouldn’t have seen

His bladed grin

Or his face laid out

In merciless lines

He’d raped a 16 year old girl


By the act of defilement

He stood proud


My father pushed me

In his direction

I tripped forward

In compulsory greeting

The officers’ hands

On the hilts

Of concealed weapons

As he wrapped

The chains around

My reticent frame


I became cadaverous in his arms

Ponderous and mute

Not even a whispered breath

I don’t remember his words

For the pulse

Of my rampant heart

Only the choked sobs of relief

When, under threat,

He released


true story


Why the willow weeps

Your gnarled spine bows

Forward in remorse

Tethered by the roots, you pray

A voiceless soldier denied salvation


Rigid arthritic limbs

Contort in archaic gesture

Frozen in the postures of a grim dance.

Quietly you await the music

That will unmake the world


Serpentine, your filaments drip down

Skirting the river’s edge

Weeping by the shore

Sacred mother trapped in eternal mourning

Your freedom the destruction of all


(This my story of why the weeping willow weeps. When she is finally free to dance she will unmake the world. Baring such an enormous burden she spends her days cast down in prayers that go unanswered.)



Beneath the imprints

Of your cigarette

The black rings

Of exhausted fires.

These scars of the flesh

Don’t penetrate as deep

As your betrayal


The noxious smell of smoke

Leaves my thoughts

Jumbled and contentious

I set my jaw

Still the tears come

Over raw, stippled cheeks

Bitter as the ashes

Of my naked trust


I catch your sick grin

Beneath heavy lashes

I bite off curses

My paltry voice

Shocking in rage


Strait though the filter


3 Word Wednesday


Revelations in ink

I have defaced your pristine white pages

With ash from my sulfurous pen

Piercing my scars with heavy black ink

I have carved nightmares

Across your naked skin

Sins of a wretched life

And you have tasted the saline

Of my excised tears

Stains, nestled safely within your sanctuary


Pressed into countless volumes

My existence unfolds

Secrets unraveling

Beneath tortured hands

I come to know myself

Through the act of writing


(I read two poems lately about journals and I was inspired  so I wanted to try my hand at writing one too)



Human Debris

We used to walk the streets at night

Picturesque in the warm glow of streetlights

Ambivalent wind mingled with snow

The moon are only confidant

Our secrets became a little more dramatic

Under her gravity.

We crossed by the river

Its floods filled with suicides

Sins deep beneath

The churning surface

A force of nature rampant in despair

Sometimes I thought it would be easier

To be enveloped

Along with bodies and shopping carts

Drug through the silt and torn apart by debris

A death tailored to my sentiment


I remember the smell

Of damp asphalt

The touch of your hand

Pressed together with mine

Young and romantic

In those heady moments

We forgot the warnings

Imposed on us

We were rebellious under the stars

Tragic in those aching winter nights

All the greys of our collective sorrows

Concrete hardened in the crevice of our veins

We were already broken, when we met

Travelers in the dark halls of Depression


Swedish nights are bitterly cold in winter

Frost spread her wretched fingers

Into the heart-shaped hole

Yawing in my chest

Knotting me up with doubts

Insecure in the face of new love

Every aberrant word

A storm

Our voices the thunder

Heavy with pain

We exchanged tears

Took turns drowning

Adrift in emotional floods

I know you saw my face

Distorted by lightening

I wonder if you ever saw me

Transformed after the tempest?


Back then we questioned everything

Made war with society

We were anarchists


We had the force of conviction

Now that we are older

We drift aimlessly

Caught up in the atmosphere

Restless but not reckless

Enough to pursue these dreams

Which fall-apart held in the iron grip of logic

We exchanged doubts

Solid in our love

We now question

The nature of our ambitions

Never quite happy it seems


(When my husband and I first met we both had an enormous amount of baggage. I don’t think either of us really believed we deserved or even could be loved given our painful pasts.)



These parcels

From the heart

Transcend embodiment

The voice of reason

They are mirages

Beyond place and time

Inverted reflections

Of faculty

For which no

Impartial translations exist


In the depths

Of my unconscious mind

Darkness knows no precinct

But nightmares do not disparage

They are a lustrative inkstone

Mitigating horror

Through expression

Ambrosia for the muse


I would stray indefinitely

In these metanoic visions

Creating maelstroms

From subterfuge

A brilliant oasis

The thrill of exotic idols

In my dreams I can be anyone

Unbound by convention

For once, a paragon of beauty

Empty Vessel

90% of outer space is nothing

We too are composed primarily of infinity

Black holes ironically are dense

They contain more substance

Than the human mind

The secret to life is not satiation

Its receptivity


What we perceive isn’t,

Our eyes discriminate shapes

There are only clusters of atoms

If we could see clearly

We’d see the connections

Not the distinctions

We’d see that we are not solidly bound

That we rise above

The reactions between our constituents

A matter of chemistry

Attraction and opposition

I find comfort in knowing

That the lines that separate us

Are just constructs of the ego

That in reality we are all parts of a whole

If I hurt you

It’s my own destruction that I undertake

If I cherish you, then I free myself

The shackles of self-hate

Still, I find the void frightening

Even knowing a vessel has no use

Without vacancy

I seek the security of solid ground

Though in reality change is growth

The only truth, is transience

Ethics are measured by circumstances

Not laws written in stone

For they do not accommodate situations

The nature of movement, is the nature of the soul

We must seek our truth in every moment

Knowing ourselves

We will act in accordance with the heart


I find comfort in the heartbeat

Of universal wisdom

In knowing that if I am open

I can unite with the divine

My beliefs are built on questions

In surrender

Curiously I am not that afraid

Of the darkness inside of myself

I know its tempered

With almost equal parts light

I write of misery

As a form of self-acceptance

I do not suffer my human condition

The variety of emotional experiences

Is fuel for the soul

For my double-edged pen

I love tears, they penetrate defense

They soften and humble

So that I can experience with greater poignancy


I love the anger

The hot energy of passion

That drives me forward when harnessed correctly

These shadows are not unacceptable

They are parts of myself deliberately concealed

I will not heal pressed under layers of filth

Only the light of realization

Can purify


I don’t believe in evil

Only pollution

We can all be cleansed

There is nothing so dark in you

That I do not also possess

Knowing the nature of self, I am not afraid

I have the freedom to choose

And I will radiate the light


(I can put my beliefs into words but I struggle putting them into a poetry)


My Regret

In this place of reckoning

I have quietly been

Dreaming and repeating

The same misfortunes.

In love, it would seem

I am irrational

If only I could

Avoid the depressions I have made

The path worn bare

By my reckless trespasses

Caught in these repetitions

I am humbled by love

Worn down violently

Till I am scarred and numb


Knowing does not diminish

My desire

Does not bring me any closer to wisdom

I am the same impetuous girl

I have always been

Dissolving these sacred bridges

With too much ammunition

Love it seems

Does not measure against poetry

My lofty visions

Unmet by your synthetic mind

Cold-pressed in judgment

And inane rhetorical questions

I have been pulled apart

By horses running untamed

In every direction


You disappoint

In silence

For your heart’s eternal sighing

Is a breath apathy-laden

The shades of your nonchalance

Measured in quick half-smiles

Unaware, you are the worst sin


Always you hold me at arm’s length

This masquerade we dance

Has no rhythm, only painted concealment

You leave me

Drowning in emptiness

Bottomless, these pools of despair

If only an end

For I could sink no further


I never thought

I’d be happy to see you go

That your presence

Would become more unbearable

Than the spaces between

Met by you

I am always a little more deflated

You are an unbearable stain

Afternoons spent in derision

How did your beautiful face

Come to represent

Shame and bereavement?


I will never endure

The loneliness of your love

These dark hours

Heavy with apology

I regret

Every moment touched by you

A muse without reason

Twitching, impatient

I am committed to agitation

Shifting from one foot to the other

I rise, do nothing, return


Unsettled inside

I despair

Press dread close at heart

As if I number among the haunted

I watch the shadows

Lingering pools of diversion

I anticipate the wraith

Receive only decimated shadow


Fetid, in my own stale air

I drift manically

Shrug, grimace, shout


Caged by indecision

I contemplate sleep

Tossing, turning

Uncomfortable in my own skin

I contemplate food

I am not hungry

Starving for movement

For freedom

The great expanse

Of fields caught in the mercurial season of Spring

Unseasonably cold here

Wet, I strain at my desk

Trying to rearrange my thought patterns

To press ink to paper

Transfer the muse but he is equally distracted

I think he’s flirting with my imagination

Deliberately firing me up

For no reason in particular


I commit to rebellion

Wrestling with him

He’s so damn selfish

Flaunting my words wantonly

Directed only my whim

Cheap slut

All his thrills from exposure

From the brutal fornication of thought

He’s an existential tease


(Nothing brilliant but this is how I feel FRUSTRATED)



Cynical, Reclusive

Disparaging, Vacillating, Renouncing

Embittered with society



(I am hoping to write a longer poem today but I feel a bit at odds with my computer, just don’t feel like sitting down basically)