Wednesday, January 23, 2013


Life is fragile~
wear it like a loose garment.
Before you brag, imagine
living in fear, your freedom
an old pair of underwear with holes,
ripped and thrown away. Imagine
living biddably, your transparent bra
dangling from a telephone wire,
only you have no way to call.
Before you brag about worldly
possessions, imagine living
in fear, where icy stares
are daggers in your heart
as you stand in a line-up,
naked and you have to 
remain polite or else.
Life is fragile~
wear it like a loose garment.
Poetic Inspiration~
3WW- brag, icy, polite


Barbed-Wire Butterflies by Jessica Kristie is being released today. It's the story of a young girl captured into a world of sex-trafficking and slave labor. All proceeds from this book are being donated to Courage Worldwide.


Sunday, January 20, 2013

Two Points of View

via Wiki under CC Author=
from Canada
Sorong Amethystine Scrub Python

It inhabits
the ecoregion
of the victim's
digestive tract
slithers through
intestinal tunnels
ulcerates with
pustulous fangs
then recoils
until the next

Go ahead,
have the last
word. I’ll watch
you flinch with
each inch as I
slither closer,
squinch at HISS-
ing sounds, rebound
venomous snaps.
Go ahead,
have the last
word. I’ll watch
you recoil as I
coil around
your hips,
squeeze you
like a wet rag
until vile drips
from your
quivering lips.
You came
to the wrong
place, go ahead


Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Post-Dental Plea

Mylanta get to work real fast
My stomach pass
Don’t hesitate
This burn won’t wait

No, Tylenol is what I need
For throbbing teeth
A jaw that squawks
At chewing, balks

A dentist trip, swallowed spit
Upset my pit
My jaw, my teeth--
I need relief!

I hate going to the dentist, but had to this morning. I still hurt.


Prompt inspirations:
Real Toads- Words Count w/ Mama Zen
Poetic Bloomings- 'Minute' Poetry


Measure me luscious,
                                    not dismal;
                                                        the longer, the better
                                                                                           no waffling, just lots of butter please.

Poem inspirations:
3WW- dismal, luscious, waffle
Poetic Asides- A "measured" poem

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Texas Winters

Pic courtesy of The Mag 151

Don't think me pink,
upper crust is not my style.
I'll take afternoon
tea over vodka,
but busy bees
I'll do without.
this soft, warm sweater
I wear a string bikini--
I've been known to change
faster than catwoman
Yesterday the sweater
was my cushion, after all.
Winter in Texas is just that way.

Friday, January 11, 2013

Googling SPAM

Google search
Karl (Blank)-

...(he wants to buy my pictures?)

Professional athlete
...(a sponsor?)

Used car salesman
...(mine's fine, thank you very much)

Criminal, sex offender
...(jerk off!)

Karl (Blank)
Google search


Prompt inspiration: Real Toads- Fireblossom Friday-Doubletalk

Wednesday, January 9, 2013


paid me a visit
in the form of
a stealthy
and wondrous
without an
or a negative
no up and down looks
nor judgemental hiss;
just WOW
by itself
as I rambled along,
took note of the day
with my glasses on.


Imaginary Gardens- Ella's Edge: Wow

Sunday, January 6, 2013


image by Daniel Murtagh
Picture prompt- The Mag 150

her eyes said,
come with me
my love
his eyes said,
let thy bosom
be my resting place
they compromised

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Ingrained: Whole Wheat Mush

Me and big sis

I learned a few things about myself yesterday when family came over for a New Year’s Day celebration. Apparently, when I was just three-years-old, I threw up in the middle of the night and then climbed out of my crib, got a towel and went back to mop it up without a fuss (as opposed to my sister going to tell our mother she felt sick and vomiting all over her in bed). Imagine that! Something I’ve always delegated to Pete because I couldn’t stand it, and there I was a mere toddler, cleaning it myself.

Another thing I heard for the first time was something that happened when I was six and my sister was twelve. Our parents were out, or getting ready to go out. My sister decided to fix me a salad. She made a big deal about how yummy it was going to be and then discovered all that was in the refrigerator was lettuce. So the salad was made with lettuce and… green olives. Guess what I did. No, not throw up, but I probably could have. I cried (I much prefer black olives over green, and really don’t care for either one, but cry over olives?). Maybe it was the Thousand Island dressing, I just don’t know. Peas were the only food I’d ever fussed over until I discovered salt and ketchup made them somewhat edible. Still, I ate that salad even though I probably hated it.

I had never heard these stories before, or if I had, I’d blocked them out of my mind. But what they did was reaffirm something I already know about myself. Only now I know it started at a very young age. What is that something, you might ask? Maybe you have guessed. I’m a people pleaser. I’m also sensitive and insecure, and I think all these qualities knead together to create a doughy existence. Mush, squeezable, raw, sticky dough.

I try to work on it though. I want to be a solid fresh-from-the-oven loaf of French bread. No, make that a Kaiser roll. I don't want to worry about what other people think anymore. So what if someone leaves a shitty comment on something I’ve written? Or if someone tries to guilt me into doing something for them? I don't need to consent just because I don't want to make them mad. Must I please others only to make myself miserable? They always let me down anyway.

It’s a new year and every year I choose a word to represent it. I try and focus on that word and use it to become a better person. My word for 2013 is God. I want to work more on doing His will. I want to say no to lettuce and green olive salads. I want to continue making Pete clean up vomit. God’s the only one I need to please.

Do you have any goals for 2013?

The Diary

In diary passages, a subject reappeared
one of addiction, the nasty consequences
a fraying nerve on an otherwise alpha-girl
perfectionist. It only got worse, with bitter
nagging from her doting lover whose razor-
sharp retorts merely threw the girl further into
denial. A killer pace, this endless need for idle
thrills dangerously lurking on a golden precipice
of delusion until a new personality blossomed,
an evil twin oddly opposite from the girl; sober/
drunk unspooling, spiraling until the bitter end
and in a blink, she was gone, the only thing left
a diary with recurring threads of debauchery.


Prompt inspirations: Imaginary Gardens~ Get Listed (a word list) and 3WW~ idle, nagging, pace