Big Stick


I need a stick.

A big one…

preferably with thorns,

lots of sharp pointy thorns.

Oh, I’ll need a glass of water too.

If you need to ask why…

cause beating sense into people

makes me very thirsty.


Did you see my mouth?

It was hanging open…

shocked into sludge,

I’ve got to study Judge Judy more.

Memorize her snappy

retorts to inane people

of which there are too many…




Cracked plaster in need of repair…

fissure fractures mask deeper decay.

Smashing out the wall board,

piecing, taping, spackling the square,

the patch looks healthy and whole;

this temporary cheat of a fix

never matches the remaining section.

Demarcation of old and new is visible

to any eye roving over the blank surface.

No amount of cover makeup can hide lines…



Getting Ready

Today should be interesting…

a day at work,

a Monday…

the first day of this week.

Be good and keep smiling,

that’s what I told myself

looking in the mirror this morning.

It’s not unusual, the talking that is…

Be good and keep smiling,

which is kind of weird because

normally I just cuss allot as I get ready for work.



on and on – old story

hot and steamy albeit guilt laden…

low self-esteem affair

so naive for being 21

trusting his smooth talking

he was charming

friends were getting married

wanting to believe in love

alone and depressed,

a married lover right after college.


left silently crying many a night

wishing I never married…

he was charming

wanting to believe in love

ignored how manipulative he was

pretty sure he was cheating

alone and sad

there was nothing in marriage

not even a lover’s prowess

on and on – old story





Growing up without fences, I was

free to wander woods and fields

with my tuff Tom cat Mouser.

That cat was all testosterone so Velvet

his original moniker soon proved

too wussie a name… especially once

his black velvet nose exhibited scars.

A tuxedo rugged form, my closest ally…


Invisible fences held me tight…

disapproving looks graced the innuendo

of good girls don’t, a long list of don’t

were aimed in my direction; many left

my extreme naïveté clueless but a few

sharp barbs left permanent scars: exposing

skin, wearing make-up, shaving legs.

Unsure and frumpy, cats my closest allies…




Found the sane in sanity

but balanced on the brink

tempting the gods of fate.

In and out, the dance of death

comes faster to some… nothing

within or without slows it down.

Boundaries set can’t stop the drain;

breath gasps, heart clots,

cerebellum lost… pull the plug.

Pull the plug, please…



Deep Fried

Determined to sing

[most considered badly]

or loudly hum off key

[most considered that awful too]…

volume wavers catching

on nervous vocal cords.

Sounding breached silence.

Continual vibrations resound in skull;

drifting in and out, reality drips steadily.

Drip, drip, dripping…

loudly avoiding fear with a musical regime;

constant song and hum forms a coating

of crumbled resonance deep fried…



No Face


Floating, obscuring view…

backside to the ground,

backbone to the floor,

ceiling to sky – unable to turn.

Grasping at door jams,

snagging tree tops,

tipping and wobbling,

ignorant to what was behind.

Nothing graced her upward gaze.

Light to dark…

basking in stars light,

drifting over and further

from anything know;

released the past

to empty scape…

no future in sight.

Night to day counting ceiling tiles…



No One Speaks


Scraping screams off walls,

sanding roughed scratches,

smoothing untold discomfort,

painting cheerful colors

to encompass decomposed emotion.

Embedded torment stains surroundings.

Now invisible sealed under another layer

because no one speaks of death…



Lost Shade


Trees with X’s and arrows…

orange paint signals the end.

Arborist decision to remove

from further seasons…

ice storm damage speeds

natural process of decay.

Life cycle shortened by an orange

symbol sprayed on bark…

this summer’s sun will burn ,

its heat will melt asphalt,

neighbors will mourn lost shade…



Imaginary Reality


Gone were the days of nonstop mysteries,

detective tales, fantasy selections…

no longer keeping up with favorite authors,

life became fiction – imaginary scenes

projected into natural surroundings.

Characters so real she could feel their touch,

recognize their voices awake or asleep,

comment on invisible visible experiences.

Dreams to daydreams, life was a fictionalized

passage keeping past in the past, ignoring

the present without a thought to the future…

she existed in the now of unraveled fiction.



remember – writing is about observation and not necessarily the author’s actual experiences…