a war of minds is
never fought alone.
if I only knew
that I was an army.


Fury, framed.

like a b-movie, you linger
in the back of my closet
not yet ready to be disposed of –
for there is still
in my peripheral vision,
flickering violently.

Digital Demon


there is a demon in digits
neon-lit or
elegant chrome,




me off the night away &
melts my liquorice eyeballs
to blistering plastic puddles

there is a demon in digits
& a strangling vine
in those metallic hands,
milking my corpse for yet another hour

when all i want to be
is gone.

photo credits: greatbigcanvas.com

Road to Nowhere

a fairytale of broken wings
where wishes soar and plummet, deep
where maybe rains down from the sky
and destiny’s not ours to keep.

those faded pictures hold our hearts
remind us of what could have been;
smiles, meant for us, will pass us by ~
will never thrive beneath our skin.

our lives go on, but we don’t live
and we hold on, too weak to try;
another dawn appears, still grey
trapped in the past, our hearts shall die.

What We Fail To Learn…

Two households, both alike in dignity
nemesis, blood feud of old
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
in our mother’s womb we battle
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
prejudice, evil’s spawn blurs our sight
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
forces hands to do its bidding.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
we are equal; our hearts all follow the creator’s drums
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life,
but fall victim to hatred, passed on through the ages
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
unmoved; set in crumbling stone
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
a thousand deaths won’t make the frenzied eye see ~
The fearful passage of their death-marked love
so we tread; siblings’ blood drowns sacred ground
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
wrath and envy still on the march;
Which, but their children’s end, naught could remove,
deaths have no meaning, but to grace the news
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage—
stupidity’s tragedy limps through the ages
The which, if you with patient ears attend,
and we remain deaf, dumb and blind ~
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
what Shakespeare uncovered, our deeds still antagonize in blood. 

Today, Anna over at dVerse Poets Pub invites us to write Postmodern Poetry. She provided this wonderful list of Bernadette Mayer’s Writing Experiments which we are allowed to choose from. I chose: “Type out a Shakespeare sonnet or other poem you would like to learn about/imitate double-spaced on a page. Rewrite it in between the lines.”
I’ve always been fascinated by Shakespeare’s Prologue to Romeo & Juliet… so I took it, fiddled with it a bit and the above is what came out of me (by now you know that I did not end up imitating it.). Hope you enjoy… Come meet us at the Bar!

She. (Rebellious Portrait)

she isn’t sorry.

tap tap tap
she attacks the tabletop
blue-painted missiles target
oiled hazelnut craftsmanship
in staccato rhythms.

she isn’t sorry.

she looks at me, a pink bubble
between cherry lips ~
growing, Growing;
defiance in her stare,
challenge extended;
tap tap tap


the pink-smeared smile
doesn’t touch her
(tap tap tap)
her tongue snakes out,
the sticky, playful rebellion.
teeth start chomping again.

she leans back with a huff,
old chair complaining
at the sudden movement.

she isn’t sorry.

tap tap tap
i wait.

Brian Miller over at dVerse Poets Pub invites us to focus on the details today… an interesting challenge.
Come join us at the bar!