1888

As I prowl the nights of London
the air is diffuse with
heavy despair.
The lamps flicker, casting
their muted glow on
the dirty street.
A cacophony of noise
reverberates against
the windows and boards of
dilapidated buildings,
nearly shanties.
Feline
Canine
Infant
Laughter
Anger
Clatter
Susurrus.
White Noise.
The vermilion feeling
on the brink
inside me
threatens to spill over onto
the broken cobblestones.
I need to cleanse
this city.
My disgust nearly
overwhelms me.
The papers have it
wrong.
Justified cleansing of
wrongful acts is not
‘terrorizing’.
Their own
guilt
is what makes them
afraid.

secret

complex, ugly pyramid
this template of
aesthetic lies
I'm in love, a
recipe for wrong

hard to remember the
navy blue marriage
less control
everyday lives
a rigid tempo
of boredom

type type powerpoint
stolen glances
visualizations
torrents of pink/yellow seizures
sight = fire thrives
electric guitars & bagpipes
type type powerpoint

then home
clearly, legibly
dull

shakespeare's intelligence

mandatory, cordially awkward character
chopping, broken, heavily primitive

isolated skeletons pose in cupboards

sheepish gondoliers fight humanity

exaggerated actress caught on film - shock

absent, deluded frogs babble on boats

tetchy santa claus' cookies = puffing buttons

dramatic, jealous lover's poisoned consolation

queen beauty, mistaken fertility is treacherous

battles, accidents, division, slaughter - paradise?

knuckles grate against emo foreheads, teeth

a strong, drastic melody becomes fiercer in the vicinity

ceiling secretion - red; a lantern gourd

excellent fire rages, racing across the sky

unspoken riddle, mysterious world

key - rabbits

bueno.

monsoon season

the water is jumping off the sidewalk
the air is white with spray
from the drops forcing their way
to Earth
in sheets
the gutters are choking
trying to deal with
the excess of water
they weren't built for this sort of thing

spears of lightning crack the sky
into pieces
thunder resonates around the city
scaring every animal
and small child
how could something be so
loud
the very air seems heavy
and swirling dark clouds
loom

across the street the wind
carries cardboard boxes
around a white trash neighbor's lawn
though they get heavier with
each new bit of
torrential rain

lightning crosses the sky again
the puddles reflect it
distorted by ripples
shingles
roses
wind chimes
basketball hoops

drip

this is monsoon season in suburbia

windham terrace

Children are a joy; I’ve always
Loved their unabashed smiles,
Enthusiasm for life.
Honest, inquisitive, sprightly,
Refreshing.
Destiny never gave me
A child
Nor a wife.
Instead she gave me eyes
And the knowledge; wisdom
Only loneliness can bestow.

I sit here with useless, arthritic legs;
Sit here in this chair, this
Mobile substitute.
The leaves fall, the corridors
Hum with anticipation of visitors.
For others.
The first holiday comes.
Our 'home' will be visited
By a group of small children
Dressed as vampires, princesses,
And the occasional astronaut.

I hold my butterscotch candies anxiously
In my lap, mangled legs covered.
My own costume, a witch mask
With grassy hair
Sunken eyes
And a vicious, gap-toothed leer,
Wasn't my choice
Though, seems a fitting commentary.
I sit in dappled sunlight, crisp air
With the others,
butterflies pummeling my stomach.
The children never come.

romance

Where are the Darcys and Rochesters of this world?
Unrealistic dreams of what romance should be, could be,
Are thrust upon us by countless movies, books, and songs.
Unrelenting, they give us a rosy-hued view of what we want,
But what is never likely to be for many, if not all of us.

These perfect male figures reside only in fantasy,
An unattainable dream for women to sigh about,
Only to realize in hopeless moments of reality,
That their poetical idea of perfect romance
Is likely to fall short in the real world.

What is stopping those dreams from becoming reality?
There has to be someone these characters are based upon.
Can they really only be fiction; a flawless projection
Of what some broken female author thought her life, love
Could, or should be in another, fantastical world?

Women waste their lives, throwing away chances
To be happy, not wanting to ‘settle’, in case that Percy Blakeney
Suddenly pops into her life, willing to whisk her away into
A world where all the ideas she’s had shoved upon her
Might actually be possible.

Maybe some women find these ‘flawless’ men.
Even if they do, is it really fair for expectations to be so high?
I have seen many good men just give up because they couldn’t
Be all that women seem to expect of them. Why can’t it be enough
For them to have a man that will care and provide?

We all want the airport scenes, the professions of undying love,
But maybe we need to take down our image of what makes
That perfect romantic lead in our lives, and see that it’s the very
Small, simple things; tiny moments in an average day,
That are the exquisite examples of actual true love.

aimless

Aimless wandering.
The same day, played out
Over and over again
With people and conversations
Changing, but the daily
Schedule never something new.

Where is the
Excitement, the joy
Life is supposed to bring?
Why is it that the things
You are supposed to do are
Only dull and meaningless?

If you touched upon the
Forbidden things,
Life could be
So much more wild,
Unrestricted.
As well as painful and damaging.

So you can try for patience,
Half-heartedly hoping
For that knight in
Shining armor to ride in and make
Your life euphoric and
Worthwhile.

But in the end, if he comes,
It would be exciting for a
Time, but slowly the monotony
Would peek out at you again
And engulf your so-called life,
Leaving only a husk in view.

winter

One scene as I watch the raging snowstorm –

A man walks through an endless sheet of white misery.
Thin sweater, worn shoes, empty pockets.
Tears of tragedy cling to his cheeks
As he searches for a hot meal, a warm bed, a kind heart.

I sip my cocoa.

you

How is it you understand
Me the way you do?
It’s like you know
Every inch of my heart
Every thought in my mind.
Yet you remain ignorant
Of how I feel about you.

Are you really unaware?
Do you know about the tingle
I experience
Every time I see you
Or think of you?
You are my world.

Maybe you are aware of this.
If so, stop the fallacy.
Help me understand
You as well
I need to
I want to
I love you.

ode to roller coasters

You cause chills, thrills, spills
Looping around, upside down.
Nausea, joy, money are
What you bring.
You receive no appreciation
For all the work you do
Lugging heavy cartloads of
People up hill, pushing down,
All on a hot, summer day.
Repeating this process every
Day, week, year
Yet you continue tirelessly
Up, down, around, through.
All the drinks spilled, vomit
Thrown and sweat dripped
Is patiently endured.
When will you get your reward?

silently

Silently.
As the moonlight falls
On the shadow of what was once a dream.
She awakes,
Distraught.
Everything is wrong.
There is nothing left
For her.
Someone must save her.
But who?
The wave of tears arrives
Drowning her in sorrow
When will the dawn come?
Not soon enough.

sorcha

She labors so diligently,
Never speaking, always working.
So much pain, behind, ahead.
Too many obstacles.
She wants so much to give up,
But knows she must never.
Without her suffering, they’d be gone,

Forever

Her task is ever ominous;
Yet He comes along.
He, who’s kind has inspired hate in hers for so long.
He, who she should despise,
But, try as she might, cannot.

Their fates are intertwined,
And the trials they endure,
Will bring peace to all, with

Time

swing-set

I am shiny and new.
Made for young children and the young at heart.
I proudly uphold my appendages
As they oscillate back and forth,
Back and forth,
And the air fills with peals of joyful laughter.
I am loved.

But children do grow older,
And I am not looked to
As a source of enjoyment any longer.
Time passes and my once luminous
Chains are flaked with rust
Never to be used again, I am disassembled,
And taken to the graveyard
Of forgotten thrills and discarded dreams.

the blues

When you’re busy beyond belief,
Or you have too much to do,
And you’re overworked and tired,
You’ve got the blues.

When boys don’t seem to like you,
Or you can’t find the right words,
And your confidence is waning,
You’ve got the blues.

When the day in cold and dreary,
Or you can’t go out and play,
And you sulk in your small corner
You’ve got the blues.

the future

The fear of what my future holds
Consumes me.
I prepare assiduously, but blindly.
It is so hard, not knowing.
I know what is expected.
But will I live up to it?
Once, I tried living day to day.
Now I live in the

Future.

What must I do to prepare for
Tomorrow?
Next Week?
Month?
Year?

I pray for the strength to see
All that I must do.
But once I receive the answer
It overwhelms me.
Too much to comprehend,
Yet I have no choice.
They depend on me;
All of them.
I will not let them down,
Whatever the price.

the boys

Get away from us
They say
Four-eyes, chicken legs
Their words
So insulting
Such a strong boy
He turns away,
Not listening.
Then he goes home
And cries.

Years later
In High School
They are in sports,
Popular
He is in Calculus,
Chemistry
The names they call
Him hurt more now
But he will not show them
He will be brave.

After college
We see where our hero stands
Higher than them all
Laughing at those men
They were only
Lonely bachelors
He had wife and child
And was leading, CEO
Of a most prestigious
Company. How comical.

time

Time
Slipping past
We take no notice
Will we waste it
Or use it wisely?
It is a gift.
Only you may decide
What you will do
With your
Time

turtle

How nice would it possibly be
To carry your home
On your back?

To traverse
Wherever you please
And never have want or lack?

So it is
With my turtle Louise
Who I brought home in a sack.

And I will
Bring her a partner home soon,
who's name shall be Jack!

warning

Gliding through sapphire waves
Sleek, majestic
Emphatic whistles of joy
Echo through the ocean air

Yet a cry of danger is released,
Alarm raised
Gather together to
Stay safe, survive

What could harm passes by
And all is again calm.

expectation

Though you see nothing of what I am feeling
I accept that you do not understand
Your differences have blinded you from seeing
But you must let me alone withstand

Sometimes you perceive what others cannot
And you comfort me as well as you can
Other times I am left troubled and distraught
Gone unnoticed and feeling letdown

So much is expected that I can’t give
Try as I might I can’t be what you weren’t
It hurts so much at times I cannot live
If only someone could decrease this hurt

I am not what you’re expecting of me
An image of what you wanted to be