Publication Credits

BROKEN GLASS -http://www.brokenglasspoetry.webs.com - Published in Online Ezine's First Edition - Crossroad, Schooled, Lost and Crushed

TURBULENCE http://turbulencepoetry.blogspot.com/ - Published in Issue number 7 - Seamstress


Thursday, August 22, 2013

On the Fence














Bullshit

love on the fence

depends

on the wood splintered face
of generic trends

holy GOD of UP-ends,

LISTEN

there are suspenders

tripping my mind

the kind
that take you back

simple truth,
your youth

when the understanding of

YOU,
not me

to be

JUST

a person
who is KIND

I think,

that may be

 ENOUGH...

to blow your mind.

Friday, July 12, 2013

ps...I love you too
















I hear, I feel

soft breeze
stroked pink cheeks

 I fan the ages

my children upstream
uninhibited dreams

small, soft
hands reach

the glow so-oh much bigger
than the belly-full

from my soul
I do know

these two have infinite
love for me

it makes me stare
it helps me breathe

lives so full,
but wait, they speak

and what I see
pauses me

written deep
up to the sleeve

"we two,
are your heart, you see

and we
will never leave."

I love, I heal


Sunday, June 30, 2013

Nature's Kiss













Karma free,
no one is

not you, not me

so I will begin
to believe in trees

watch distant
momma birds stretch
their wings

and if I'm good

reach into me
a wind touch,

love leaves
my Karma

free

Saturday, March 9, 2013

For Those Who Want To Fly













pinpricks in life

touch
need
bleed

breed

the point
is always taken away
by the breath of me

flushed, naked
running fast through a field of
slow-motioned promise

it is beautiful really
the way the hope sways

makes you want to 
stick a finger in
swirl it this way
or that way

live in the moments

the good
the bad

knowing I am done

with the ugly

Monday, January 7, 2013

You can always smell the violet
















drunk on illusion
my party stops at the point
where you begin.

Painted plastered
I sit on my chin

grin

can't help but wonder what life
has in store.

I don't know if I have enough of me.

plead with my insides to do right
my left turn is always pausing,
almost feels like

that garden that won't grow

you reach for me
touch my hand
and my calm begins to freak

I think

you can always smell violet
when you are being pulled through it

I will always  wonder
what heaven thinks while laughing;
the pointing is always some cause for direction

but the laughter catches me off guard
and now my chin hurts,

the ache of you is my comfort.