Empty Seats.

Mocking Bird Down


The cold crept in, like dry ice on my own
private stage. The performance of a life time,
to be danced in the dark, with only empty chairs;
frayed and a dull worn out burgundy,
all numbered. Lights off, and just the
beat of a half remembered tune in my mind.

No grace in this face. Just heavy and jilted
movements. No perfect lines in this spine.
I ache when I move, but this is my own version
of a less than eloquent love story, and to me,
It feels more like an effort to breathe.
The numbered empty seats will not mock.

I don’t need nor want applause for my awkward
bended knees, or my outstretched hands, or for
the insecurities I fail to hide in my silly costumes.
All I care for is the freedom to twirl in time
to the one line of an old unnamed song…

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Americana Injustica

I’m just another,
broken down,
an exhausted insomniac,
painfully desperate…
willingness –
it’s called, I guess,
my carnal curiosity,
and right then:
it occurs to me,
tonight will be spent,
next to your naked body,
a quantum time-bomb,
ticking away,
in my genes,
a submissive’s lament,
swallows the day,
that follows the night,
spent by me,
bowing down,
at your feet –
My Dominant King,
slowly but surely,
owning me,
whatever it is that you,
might want me to be,
I will try my best,
to please –
the master who,
teaches me these things,
one last card,
folded into my sleeve,
I’m bound to you,
you’ve broken me,
I can’t move –
unless your hand,
guides me dominantly…

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One Pain Lessens Another



He was feeling rather thin ,
And somewhere that he,
Regretted fitting in.
It didn’t take too long to see,
That enduring the pain within,
Was sometimes necessary.
Unable to go back
He continues on,
Using the joy he lacks,
To sing his sorry song,
The pain keeps him on track.
It reminds him of where he belongs.
Unis peancino clesevenos annoseotheri.
One pain lessens another.
And these are the pains that we,
Must endure to protect each other,
And provide for our families,
While we bleed for our brothers.

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World’s Worst Things.

Americana Injustica

I’ve always meant to tell you,

that your irreplaceable feet,

always stood for the good,

against so very, many bad things,

like a cursed angel born to me,

my last-stood chance to be;

…the failing of my tattered wings…

It somehow always slips my mind,

so few words – from so far away,

so unable to remain very stable,

life is one, long, catastrophic earthquake,

oh, that I could reign you in and regain,

your love – your trust – and your admiration;


…the weaving of my worst dreams…


I see your ghost on the schoolyard,

that I watched you grow up on,

very vague; and you flicker and fade,

blinking static – ‘til you’re totally gone,

I watch one last time as your digits slip,

clutching at my out-stretched fingertips;


…the repeating of the world’s worst things…

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Mocking Bird DOWN

Mocking Bird Down

I mapped your face, like the
Egyptians mapped the stars. I knew
every part of your face, your mouth
and your hands. Your legs. In my bed. Spread.
I made you read to me, just for the sound
of your voice. I needed you, like a traveler needs
a compass.
Like a nomad needs water.
There was no flinching, only fistful’s of hair and
a battle of wills. Leaving us
bruised, and red skinned.
I let you in.
I melted in the scent that lingered
on my pillow.
I let you in.

I let you in.

Your demons stood up to mine
and war was waged with lustful biting,
and fighting, and you lit a candle;
not for my soul, but for the merging
of two black hearted giants.
I needed you.
And I trusted that you needed me.
To be free.
And to see, that what we had

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Sestet Challenge: Blocking the Knocking.

Mocking Bird Down


Locking myself , head bowed, in time to the knocking;
Knocking of your calloused knuckles on my rib cage, locking,
Blocking the darts aimed at my face, defense wounds shocking,
shocking to the mind. An assault coupled with flailing attempts at blocking.
Bleed with me, huddled over my own heart to protect it from your need;
Need to savagely destroy what is not yours, your need, to see me bleed.

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It Lies Within


It has drunk the tears of many.
Of fears it has eaten plenty.
To devour all these awful things,
Is only of which this monster sings.
It thrives on misery and seeks happiness to destroy.
It searches for the destruction of any joy.
None endures and deals out more suffering than it can.
This is the beast we call man.
Such is its capacity for harm.
At this do not be alarmed.
Love it has in greater amount.
Among its qualities, this we must count.
For the sleeping love beneath its skin,
Is potentially more fearful than all its sin.

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Pain and Safety: The Mirror Sestet poetry challenge



Pain brought to my wrist by the coming rain,
Rain bringing nothing to me but pain.
Insight worthless here, cannot think at night.
Night would dull the pain and my insight.
Can never be shown, I alone must search for land.
Land in safety: I must and I can.

A little bit about arthritic pain. The last two lines are about how sometimes one can do nothing about it but wait for it to pass.

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