….why paisley???

dizzy plays for small change, on the boardwalk in key west
livin’ rough and drinkin’ hard,, sometimes he plays just to forget
the night the misplaced cherry, from his days last cigarette
cursed him to live,, out all his days,, in charcoal silhouette….

photo:

http://mindseye171.deviantart.com/art/My-Own-Little-Square-57667418

rhetorical “i love yous”-
batted back and forth like flies,
that prey on hungry children
and drink water from their eyes..

caustic conversations, peppered
black,, with loathings mold.
while laser whitened smiles
veneer loveless, rotting souls..

a marriage of convenience,
fed on debt devoured dreams.
youthful passions, long succumbed,,
to god money’s siren screams…

credit cards ,and joint accounts,
the flesh on which they feed.
a living breathing sacrifice,,
to avarice and greed…

photo:
http://trygothic.deviantart.com/art/Love-Vs-Money-71053505

i have no clue what this is about .. but i happened across this photo on deviant art,, and this is what it said to me….

there’s a cigarette burn
in the wall of her soul
she can no longer hide
tucked away from the world
how it got there
even she is unsure
but there’s a cigarette burn
in her soul

blackened and brittle
it weakened the wall
that hems her in tight
that keep her alone
little wisps of her essence
are sure to escape
from the cigarette burn
in her soul

did she fall asleep?
just not notice the spark
or simply not care
lost in passion or art
what smoldered so long
what left this black mark??
there’s a cigarette burn
in her soul

photo:

http://zoelouisee.deviantart.com/art/kmh-burnt-out-87646092

i overheard them
con-ver-sating,,
a note of superiority
had been struck..
dropping catch words
like, sustainable,
free range, organic,
grown locally, and such..

and i could tell
from the tone of
their voices,,
they had thought
about it,, a lot..

about how elevated
above the masses
their pallets had become
and how their
cutting edge
elitist eating
set them
oh, so high above-

the young mother
struggling to feed her kids
in who’s apparent
ignorance and
lack of foodie education-
still chose to fill
their hungry bellies
with pork and beans
and mac and cheese
and various (gasp) fat laden
sugary confections….

photo:

http://avitohol.deviantart.com/art/gipsy-family-6317515

When skin or organs are damaged, the body naturally wants to heal itself. Since the body cannot re-create healthy skin or tissue, it puts together new fibers that are not as functional as the original tissue, but that serve as a protective, useful barrier. When this barrier is completely healed, it is known as a scar.

as they lay there in
the blue white glow
of the back and white tv
she brushed his hair
back off his face
and listened to him breath
he was at peace now
her sleeping angel
no more anger
no more rage
her heart whispered-
“god, i love you…”
her face buried
in his so soft mane

as tears escaped in silence
from, her blue black
swollen eyes
and trickled ever
slowly past
that which makeup
would not hide
she stroked his chest
and longed to reach
inside,, and somehow mend
the scar tissue
that was once his heart-
long ago
and way back when….

photo:

http://chiliphili.deviantart.com/art/tv-72831220

paper bag child, from mary draws from silence, by rick mobbs

i live in fear, of ending up,
a bag lady someday..
cause i’ve been there
and i know i am,
just one paycheck,
and a kind old man away..
from finding myself
alone and cold,
huddled on a corner somewhere,
with no food, no clothes, no shelter,
and no one left to care..

but then i think,, at least i know
i live no grand illusion,
i’ve done it before,
and i have the skills,,
i am not sheltered and disillusioned..
i do not believe
that it could not,,
ever happen to someone like me.
because i know,
i am not in charge,
of the unseen powers that be..

i foresee a vast awakening,
as we turn families into the street.
as we foreclose on homes,
they never should have owned,
and watch their children
sleep in the street..
i believe, a lot of people,, will
have to suffer needlessly,
because we have learned to live,
outside ourselves,,
and measure a (wo)man,,
solely-
by the things that we can see…

it really is uncomfortable
i feel quite violated
but what the hells a girl to do
when her domain has been invaded???

all the pretty pictures
to me they are more than half the show
my words pale in comparison
when left all alone,, ya know??

but this won’t be the first time
i left with less than what was mine
and after all- its all just stuff-
and i am used to leaving that behind

so hang in there
and i will too
those bastards didn’t win
they just don’t know who their messin’ with
i’m the queen of startin’ again…..

photo:

http://amihedgehog.deviantart.com/art/Queen-of-Spades-13071217

she said,, that one day
she hoped i would die,
and my dogs would eat
the flesh, from my bones…

at the time
i was so hurt
so angered
so disillusioned
that i failed to see
that the anger
flowing like lava
from her pen
was the culmination
of a lifetime spent-
living in my shadow…

i had left her behind
trapped in the holes..
holes, i had dug for myself-
and then abandoned..
holes she had spent
a life time desperately
trying to fill in
with family honor
with the sanctity of religion
with a loveless marriage
and a multitude
of dry dead dreams..

i had no way of knowing
that day,, when she purged her soul
of a lifetime
of fermented anger
that she was on the edge
of the abyss herself-
that she was
but one step away
from emerging
from the shadow
of the beast
she had always been so sure
was me…

photo:
http://gilad.deviantart.com/art/Dark-shadow-over-ground-ZERO-49162087

from where i sit,, safely
in front of my computer
with my home brewed espresso
and ever faithful cigarettes
enveloped in the warm glow
of the green globed bankers lamp
that illuminates
every most intimate detail
of my life
i spy it…

poised on the wall
at the head of my bed
nearest the pillow
where my “moo moo” slept
completely unaware-
(chasing whatever it is
dogs chase when they dream)
it lurked, huge and brown
malevolently frozen
leading me to believe
that in arachnid
immobile is a valid synonym
for invisible

so, i reach down,, blindly
into the dark, nether regions
under my desk
for one black fuzzy slipper…
never taking my eyes off it,,
stealthily, silently,, i slink
closer,, closer,, closer,,
smack!!

a broken body
legs ripped from torso
wall spattered
with the very essence
of arachnid life…

triumphantly,,
i sit back down…

only to feel ghostly
long spidery legs
lingering in hidden places
only my now
over stimulated
arachnid imagination
will ever find them…

photo:

http://psychbreak.deviantart.com/art/Giant-spider-9837290

this is a jigsaw poem the bold words were provided by commenter’s on poets who blog….

a wrinkled wrap
of waxen paper
draped,,
on bent fish bones..
sharp and spindly
clarified by time..
the volatile mother
of my precious youth,
retreated now..
alone,, adrift,, inside
the decomposing
stocking, of her own
opaque ivory flesh..

just the smoke
of a bitter old woman
remains.. trapped
silently behind
onion skin eyelids,
that flutter sometimes
as she peacefully surrenders
her once toxic flame
to a reversal in the wind
that too carries off
my life long fantasy
of deathbed forgiveness…

photo:

http://lilyana.deviantart.com/art/old-woman-series-9-45948033