Fern Gully

I drove a railroad spike
Into my heart
In order to break the chainsaws
That tried to cut me down.

When you can't find any words to tell your own story...

Tense Haiku

History, my past,
haunts me like a poltergeist,
dead, unkillable.

Firestorm

Wake up to the alarum of a phone.

My home, my city's burning down. 

A city built with hedonistic bones 

Never worries about ghost towns. 

But tonight God decided to restart 

And threw matches into dry shrubs. 

The neighborhood eerily fell apart  

As fire ravaged country clubs. 

Surprisingly egalitarian, 

The rich and the poor fled for life. 

New converts, new humanitarians,

Shed their belongings and their strife.  

We survived and slipped into our old ways.

Let it burn again!  Rid us of malaise.

Modified sonnet.  Firestorm '03, '07, ...

Prosperity Spell

Tonight is the night I seal the deal;
Write the spell so it can be real.
Athame, water and salt on my altar,
I invoke the sacred spirits of Gibraltar.
Dagger in hand, I cut the basil,
And crush chamomile, sage and hazel.
Into the fire, as well as water and salt.
It all rises as smoke faster than a Renault.
This is my offering in exchange for prosperity.
And I say Blessed Be with all my sincerity.



A hopeful prayer.  Wish me luck!

Conquistadora

It seems my ship's run aground.
Time to explore the land I found.
Let's disembark and set up camp.
Hurry up, boy!  Set up the ramp!
I'll forge a path with my machete.
My name will eclipse Dante Rossetti.
We'll capture savages and steal gold.
My crew will tell you, it never gets old.
I am the blood of the conquistadora.
Whatever I want, I'll do it ahora.
I know no bounds and wear no chains.
I'll clear it all, until nothing remains.
I've always known I was meant to lead.
Enemies beware,  I'll make you bleed.




Modified English sonnet for the suckers.
Also I'm pissed as soldier ant right now.  I'm ready to prove anyone wrong about anything.  Yes, it's one of those nights.

Great News For The Kingdom!

Whether or not future expansion takes place, the word is spreading.  My poetry has been published once again.  If you can, check me out in Tidepools 2012 when it's released in June!

Lovingly,
Your Queen

No Rest For The Wicked

The work of a slave driver is never done.
Her everlasting work is just no fun.
And by dusk, she knows it's only just begun,
And that sometimes, she must fire her gun.

The vigilant slave driver is ever guarded,
Her slitted eyelids always parted,
Making sure she's not outsmarted.
Daily, her soul's bombarded.





Work is driving me up a wall.

But I work at a flower shop...And next week is Valentine's Day. So what can I really expect?

Ode to an English Teacher

It was Ms. Shope
Who gave me hope,
Who told me to write a lot.
It's the way she taught.
Carry on, she said,
And so my imagination fed.
Thank you for all you've showed me.
When I write, I know I'm truly free.



She inspired me and gave me a taste of true freedom writing poetry offers.  I can never thank her enough for what she helped me become, especially so young.  (I had her in 7th and 8th grade).
I tried to visit her today, but I came too late.  So I ran to my car and jotted down this little ditty.  I needed to get my thanks out.  She's the reason I broke 1000 views.  There wouldn't be a blog without her somewhere in this story.

Gettysburg Bullets

Gettysburg Bullets

An Ode to Lincoln

11/7/06

Battlefields are humbling.

Here stands a humbled man.

He's tall and quiet; he's orderly.

Don’t deny it, ‘cause he's ahead.

How much power? I do not know,

But he'll change us all forever.

He never knew what he’d do.

Death was much too clever.

But for now he stands upon this ground

Where many men have died.

He suddenly bursts out in speech,

A hush falls on the crowd.

“Not one,” he says, “will remember me,

Nor what we’ve ever done.

Nor will words be remembered,

From this speech that has begun.”

How wrong he was when he spoke,

Too wrong to comprehend.

Later, they say, he sat down

To watch the curtain descend–

A young man, just 26,

determined and misread.

–This young man crept behind

And put a bullet in his head.

It wasn’t long before our

Dearest president was dead…

Wrote this when I was 16.  Guess what we were discussing in American History.

Hot House

Washington is on the loose...

OUT of retirement, he and 81 Year old Benjamin Franklin wrought havoc at the Philadelphia Convention in 1787. The hot house rose temperatures and tempers. Arguements about replacing the Articles of Confederation turned violent when Washington threw his chair into the crowd declaring "I AM CHAIRMAN! FEAR MY CHAIR!" Benjamin Franklin giggled like giddy old men do and clapped his hands before wincing from rheumatism and arthritis. James Madison got up with his frilly pink quill, one hand on his hip, and declared "Now boythhh, thith ith no way to behave!!"
Alexander Hamilton turned on him wide eyed and declared "GAY!" The following scene seemed like the inspiration for the Salem Witch Hunts. James Madison was burned at the stake in the court house while there were accusations of homosexuality. At one point, even George Washington was accused. Angrily, he jabbed his finger at his accuser and declared, "Only a gay would accuse such a macho man as I of being a homo-hom-homo-SEXUAL! YOU ONLY WANT ME TO BE GAY!!! I HAVE A WIFE AND SHE'D BITCH SLAP YOU FOR ME!"
His accuser gasped then bitch slapped Washington yelling something along the lines of "YOUR WIFE IS A WHORE." Then ran off crying.
Before long, near-by townspeople heard the ruckus and knowing there must be something interesting happening at the court house, grabbed their torches and pitchforks because one never attends to a mob session without weapons with a long wooden handle. They forked all who got in their way. A path of corpses and burnt houses was left in their seething wake. If someone looked at them and was of the same sex, he was soon burned at the pire.
Many ended up wearing blind folds running in circles screaming "HOMOSEXUAL!"
Some southerners made posters "God Made Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve"

After several hours of melee, all was quelled when someone started tossing around the ol' pigskin, and all men joined in knowing "Gays can't play football, Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, would smite them." (Bob Haystacker, 48) "I can smell a queer but everyone's playin' with the pigskin so..."

The Articles of Confederation and the first draft of the Constitution were unfortunately burned along with a few queers and straights. However, it wasn't long before the delegates decided that the constitution should be simple.
"Why don't we just rule the country like football? Anyone we don't like should be tackled and have his legs broken," suggest Edmund Randolph.

Thus here is our country today.


or at least that would make history a WHOLE lot more interesting...








That's a piece of work I cooked up when I was probably 16. It had to have been during a period when I was studying some bullshit textbook about our American History. Obviously I got bored and wrote my own, more exciting version of how our documents came to be. Every bit of this piece is purposeful. I do believe it is 98% done. (To a writer, very rarely is a piece ever truly finished. It's only put out for the public because "I guess it's good enough...") I wouldn't call it subtle but I still get a laugh out of it.