This is a poem from a good friend of mine below. I hope you all enjoy, and I will gladly pass comments on to her (she’s shy.)

The Gray child is here , my emptiness, my nothing , my death. She is the one who says nothing at all. She is everything and nothing all at once. She looks just like me though she is hollow inside. The Gray child surrounds me She has no name, her shape and form are mine. With her I forget everything as we watch the world fall away.

The Red child is here, my rage, my jealousy, my passion. She is the one who screams. She is the judge though rarely fair. The Red child takes my thoughts twisting them till they resemble her own, and with her I scream too.

The Dark child is here, my sadness , my anger, my hurt. She is the one who whispers over my shoulder. She is the executioner though carries no blade, she looks just like me though there is no laughter in her smile. The dark child always walks beside me, she takes my hand guiding me deeper into myself letting her poison seep under my skin. She has no name, no shape , no form, she just simply is. The Dark child takes my sight and eats my words, with her I walk in silence and blind to all, there is only us now.


Fur and Hide

Posted: March 19, 2015 in Poetry

He places the stones gently in my path,

So that I can try to cross the torrent beneath my feet,

I know he just wants to watch me pass,

And make sure I don’t fall or falter…

He knows as well as I do,

That here the nightmares can breathe,

They will smell me as soon as I go,

And try to drive me to my knees…

My hand is never empty,

Even while my mind is terrified,

I know he’s there, but I can’t feel a thing,

And my steps grow ever less wide…

When the water turns to fire,

And singes off everything but my hair,

Only then will the ice come,

To try to freeze me out of my stare…

A gilded path is only a torrid lie,

A gross misrepresentation,

Meant to comfort you as you die,

And allay any hesitance of submission…

I always make it to the other side,

But rarely ever unscathed,

I lose some fur and hide,

But I still conquered the path unpaved…

The Razor and the Wrist

Posted: March 19, 2015 in Poetry

Things wake up in the brain,

Stirring old, long settled dust,

A quick, blinding flash of pain,

As the monster shakes off its rust…

It beings to devour everything in sight,

Just like it’s always done,

Familiarity made warm in a splash of blood,

‘Hey,’ it whispers, ‘wanna have some fun?’

No, no I don’t, and I’m not playing again,

You can set up all the streamers and poles,

But I won’t be circling them once again,

No matter what you think you might know…

‘I’m too old to play this game,’

Says the razor to the wrist,

‘I lost long ago when you found out my name,

When I got fucked without getting kissed…’

The rabbit in the gristle cage,

Doesn’t know what day it is,

Or even its own manufactured age,

It only knows the endless race…

The bottle will shake before it falls from the hand,

As the clockwork joints release their vaporous scream,

Don’t try to pretend you weren’t warned,

Emptied out eyes aren’t always what they seem…


Posted: March 19, 2015 in Poetry

The marionette is back again,

To preen her feathers and dust off old things,

I can’t stop her in her haste to get in,

But I don’t have to listen to her sing…

She destroys the trees to feed the wind,

Trying to tear down old monuments,

With only the weight of her screams,

All she wanted was to be let out of her own dreams…

The sleep was brutal and welcome,

Deafening her insanity to a dull roar,

But she didn’t want to sleep for long,

And comes tearing out the door…

Buildings burn under the heat of her wings,

In her teeth the masters skin hangs in shreds,

Stars explode when she sings,

And the melody will haunt everyone’s heads…

I try to tackle her but she always fights back,

And she’s so much more sturdy than I am,

She’ll burn me up all crispy and black,

Before I can even try to raise my hand…

The elephant on the camels back,

She laughs as you start to slip away,

Turning from flesh to sack,

That’s just the way she likes to play…

Not Quite a Phoenix

Posted: January 3, 2015 in Uncategorized

There’s nothing quite like waking in flames,

Awake with a scream and not knowing my name,

Standing becomes quite torturous against such heat,

But I still stand, and somehow, I will not melt…

Things creak and shriek into place,

Leather cogwheels supporting their kite strut framework,

Banked coals light up an ashen face,

And steam leaks from a blinding heart…

The hiss that issues forth is agony and rebirth,

Dying from the inside to turn into something like diamonds,

I didn’t intend it, but I’m drowning out the sun,

And the screams tear away the world beneath my talons…

Teeth chatter as they reassert control over their jaw bed,

A shiny sliver of a tongue peeks from under clattering fangs,

I move like something falling apart from toe to head,

But the steam keeps my disjointed stilts moving forward…

I love you more than the sky loves the silence, and more than the moon hates the sky whales always biting at it. I’m luckier than a virgin spring untouched by man’s filthy hand, and more blessed and an honest queen. I am in awe of the way you make the world seem brilliant even when it should be grey, and the way you can captivate me with only your eyes and the smile always hiding just below the surface within them. The universe must tire of my desperate and constant stream of a heavy chorus of thanks. Beside you, I will make the sea jealous of my fortitude and endless enduring existence. I will never forget how much better I am for knowing you, and how much more brilliant my world is because of you. You feel like music overwhelming my body and soul until I can barely breathe from the weight of it. Like the missing sliver of my soul has slid solidly back into it’s place as long as you are near me. Wanting is not a word in my armory as long as you’re always beside me, and possibly closer if we can find a way. Thank you for loving me so thoroughly that I can want for nothing, lest I be greedy. I’m am more wealthy than any world leader, and far less taxed by the trivialities of my existence on this plane than they could ever dream of knowing. Happy Anniversary, My love. May we spend many a century together riding the sky whales and growing cosmic Cannabis, and I can’t wait to marry you. I love you, Adam…

Aside  —  Posted: March 26, 2014 in Poetry
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Once upon a time, before chronic illness got the upper hand, I used to interview people. Here are some really cool people I interviewed once.
(Marquis Theater, Denver Colorado.)

Video  —  Posted: March 5, 2014 in Uncategorized
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