At Nine
At nine I began to fade.
My colors went dull,
My existence became worn.
At nine I started
To contemplate
Ending this dismal life.
At nine I lost
My innocence
Never to be found again.
At nine I lost myself
Inside a kaleidoscope
Full of whirling twirling lies.
At nine I stopped
Living and began
Merely to exist, as I remain.
Wild Gypsy Woman
She grasps feathers from air
and weaves them into life.
Spirit exhales nomadic echo
like a thousand birds on a wire
taking shameless flight at her will.
Wild gypsy woman whizzes past
unforeseen curves in the road,
speeding so fast, leaving only
remnants of her shadow.
Tucks sun in her bosom
to light life’s adventures,
sets the moon askance
on head as mock halo.
Quaffs freedom
in the cup of her hand,
running barefoot
untamed and wild.
Dances in wild abandon
in raindrops of passion
answering only to herself
as she rounds
the endless loops
of tomorrow,
feral and free.
Every Step of the Way
Let me breathe for you,
inhale whispers of air,
infuse you with tomorrows,
lift weight from your shoulders,
return to you with love
the gifts you have bestowed,
cherish you and make today
worth living so you can go on,
free of the worries and burdens,
bear your pain for you,
lift your sadness of spirit
and struggle alongside you,
filling your life with daisies
and rays of sunshine
so you can brave
what the future brings
with courage and hope,
leaving a legacy of memories
for all those who love you.
Walk firmly into the night
knowing that I am there
every step of the way,
holding your hand.
Bound to You
We dance along lines of fine white powder,
swaying back and forth
between beauty and chaos.
With you at my lips,
we stood over empires.
Pull me back like waves over sand,
and I'll breathe you in till I see stars.
Slip chains around my wrists,
and I'll cherish them like jewelry.
Sink into my clothes,
my skin, my bones,
and I'll fall in bliss upon my knees.
In morning light,
I'll see nothing but ruins
until I breathe you in once more
like fine white powder.
Squandered Silence
Half alive in the middle of nowhere,
playing solitaire on blank canvas,
drowning in cacophony of noise,
aching to find puzzle piece.
Steam hisses angst in streams -
not human, not part of the world,
measured by money and graft.
Is anyone listening to my quest
for meaning of squandered silence?
Dead empty eyes pretend to be
embodiment of real person, slithering
in decayed world without compass
on a wacky train to vertigo heights.
Reality stretches between my fingers
as villains abound in stars of
ruthless dreams – psychotic anarchy.
I wear perplexity on a chain,
trying to reconstruct my humanity.
I was human once – all that matters
is the tickle of feather dusters
awakening renewal of hope,
ridding bruises and draining blood,
stimulating new growth reaching for sun.
My pith melts and once again, births
my human heart, opening life’s lid
allowing soul to live once more.
Paradise Lost
She asked her not to wear those skimpy shorts
Or give that glance ,coquettish of sorts.
She warned her against trusting a stranger
Ohh! She got collywobbles raising a teenager.
A strict no to the late night bashes
A decree to minimize the mascara on those incipient lashes.
"Let me know if you had the hots for someone"
"Facts of life you should know from me, your mum".
She tied the lass to her apron strings
And kept a watchful eye over her growing wings.
But soon there was a drastic change in the little lady's form
Was it the silence before the storm.
The leaves of the young tree started withering in the wind
Nervous hands of clock ticked when she thought her daughter could have sinned.
As she dug deep to find the nugget of truth
Hot on the trail ,like a shrewd sleuth.
Unable to bear the pain her daughter confided in her
She stopped dead in tracks after learning the truth, one after another
No, it was neither the stranger
Nor the teenager from the adjoining manger
Facing the truth,her world came down to shambles
On learning both had lost their virginity to the same man with whom they lit the daily candles.
She was struck by a fate worse than death
Thinking of her husband who would father his own child's child,she fell short of breath.
"Is being molested loss of virginity?
"No", she said, "as my child has not yet lost her purity"
The Night Shift
“I think you’re just being ridiculous,” said Mrs. Jones, shifting uncomfortably in her hospital nightgown and turning slightly to look directly at her neighbor in the next bed. “If that sweet Nurse Angela is going to give me drugs to help me sleep, I am certainly going to take them. The doctor says it’s important to get enough rest, and my hip aches all night.”
Miss Henry shook her expensively styled blond hair and looked disparagingly at Mrs. Jones. It was an insult to have to be in the orthopedic ward recovering from knee surgery, and she was still angry at the temerity of the surgeon who blamed her exercise routine for the injury he had just repaired.
“I, for one, am going to protect my body,” she huffed. “I am not going to pollute it with unnecessary drugs. That’s why I eat only organic food and take all these.” She gestured at the row of antioxidants and probiotics on the bedside table.
At that moment, Nurse Angela came into the room with the women’s medication. Preempting anything the nurse might have had to say, Miss Henry announced:
“I have decided I won’t be taking any more of your drugs.”
“You know it is important to get a good night’s rest. It will take you a lot longer to get better if you don’t rest,” said the nurse, picking up Miss Henry’s chart.
“It’s my decision,” Miss Henry said belligerently. “You can’t make me!”
“No one is going to make you. It’s only a suggestion.” Nurse Angela inconspicuously checked the box marked ‘noncompliant’ on Miss Henry’s chart and turned to speak to Mrs. Jones who was unusually cheerful despite the hip replacement she had had the day before.
“I take care of my body,” Miss Henry cried, insisting that the nurse recognize this. “I don’t eat anything that isn’t healthy. I only drink alkaline water and cold pressed juice!”
“And I am sure you are delicious for it, Dear,” said Nurse Angela vaguely, making another notation on the chart.
Several hours later, Miss Henry lay awake in the half dark room. Her knee ached and was beginning to throb, but she was unable to move much due to her bandages and splint. In the next bed, Mrs. Jones was fast asleep, having taken her medication when she was supposed to.
Miss Henry heard a faint rustling. Nurse Angela must have returned to check on them. She opened her eyes, ready to complain, but it was not the nurse she saw. What seemed to be a strange greyish mass had slipped out from under Mrs. Jones’ bed and now slid up onto the blanket in defiance of gravity and belying its lack of limbs or appendages. She watched in growing horror as the monster thrust its terrifying countenance into the sleeping face of Mrs. Jones and smiled. The maneuver required it to open a surprisingly large and slug-like mouth to show row upon row of sharp, black teeth. Satisfied that Mrs. Jones was unconscious, the monster receded, gently smoothing the covers with its body before sliding back down to the floor.
Miss Henry knew it was only a matter of moments before the creature would be upon her and she was correct. She felt the monster’s soft bulk conform to the contours of her body as it made its way toward her head. When it looked into her eyes, which she now had no power to close or turn away, Miss Henry saw her own expression of terror and disgust reflected in the creature’s multifaceted insect-like orbs. Its breath was warm and smelled like human blood when it hissed at her in a strangely comprehensibly manner, “You should be asleep.”
In the morning, Mrs. Jones woke up to sunshine coming in through the window of the hospital room. A nice young orderly was mopping the floor between her bed and the bed where Miss Henry had been when she fell asleep the night before. He quickly bent down and wiped a spot in front of the bedside table with a rag when he realized Mrs. Jones was awake. Nurse Angela was just tucking in the sheets on the freshly made bed.
“Where is Miss Henry?” Mrs. Jones asked in confusion. “I hope she’s all right.”
“Don’t worry, Dear,” Nurse Angela told her brightly. “She just took a little turn for the worse.”
Skull of Souls
Cracking his head open
against the wall of death
he stores souls in his skull
for her to wear around her neck,
a final attempt at togetherness.
He strains to crawl and hide
inside broken skull, with
voice dangling in vicious madness,
earsplitting cries crushing cranium
luring her to sense of security,
a final attempt to hide derelict fate.
She is enveloped by a sickening tapping,
his thoughts entangled around her neck,
laced with bloody ribbons multiplying
to cushion the crackling voices.
Grey matters is crammed into fissures,
mud in the sewer of her mind.
The road melts before her in puddles,
black tar hitting her skull necklace,
sucking his entity through a straw,
existing in a black and festered hole
dying in a void that overcomes his sin
His shuttered eyes capture darkness,
he tries to escape the skull of souls,
brain finds no sleep – comatose ravings
interwoven into his hollow bones.
She casts the necklace of souls aside,
crushes his skull and is free from darkness
as he drowns in a dearth that annihilates.