LEGO Brand Retail
Mar 292008

I lost my shit tonight

On the floor in the middle of the

Pleasantville Inn

I woke up in the hands of strangers

Worried and concerned

And they didn’t even know me.

Compassion transcends this awkward

Situation, I guess.

Me, regaining consciousness,

Cracking jokes flat on my back

Amber, terrified, whiter than

A bottle of elmer’s glue,

Standing to the side trying not

To see.

The message was clear:

My battalion of patient guardian

Angels gave me a taste

Of the end of the road

I’ve been traveling on,

While I still have time to

Turn around and choose again.

posted march 17,2008 on her myspace page only days before she died

Mar 292008

By any other name,

I’d still be a writer

It’s in my heart, my blood, my fingers

Nouns and adjectives, metaphors

And similes pound through my veins.

The way some kids get math,

I get writing

The way some cats can pick up a guitar

And just know what to do,

I can wield a pen and do

Some fabulous damage.

It’s an extension of my being,

An outlet for my soul

Hell, I was writing on the walls

Of the womb.

Bedtime stories

And a love of words

Calvin and Hobbes at an early age

Fostered a talent I have been quick

To acknowledge, but slow to embrace

And it occurred to me the other

Day, the randomest of days,

That squandering this gift,

Not utilizing the talent

To its full blossom

Would be like spitting in the face

of a generous friend.

posted march 18,2008 on her myspace page only days before she died

Mar 292008

You never learn to be a good person

You either are or you aren’t

Always born with an old soul,

Recycled and wise,

Able to detect the same in others,

We are a rare breed

Prone to mental, emotional strife

Prone to feeling too deeply,

Drowning in it

You can’t let it overwhelm you,

This gift

It’s meant to be internalized

then passed right on.

It’s a gift meant to be recycled,

A knowledge not to be kept

From the timid minds of the masses

It’s a burden and a blessing

To see visions in the sun,

All the while burning retinas.

posted march 18,2008 on her myspace page only days before she died

Mar 292008

In the thick of it,

It’s too dense to make

Out the mistakes before

You commit to them

But there’s always an out,

A loophole you can slip

Through when shit

Gets rough.

In the thick of it,

The blur that is It happening

Can be indistinguishable

From the general static and

Hum of the world.

Travel lightly, and step the same

Give respect, and no one suspects

That under your cloak

There’s a fiercely passionate soul

Planning its attack

Planning to usurp the regime,

To upset the status quo

And make things right in the world.

posted march 18,2008 on her myspace page only days before she died

Mar 292008

My father and i

are close at arm’s length

He tells me I embarrass him

Because I wobbled off the

Straight and narrow,

Refused to bleat with the

Rest of the white sheep,

And became black.

My mother and I have

Always been too close

Too close encouraging a bond

That if broken, could kill

She cleaned my bloody wrists

When I tried to let go of life

The first time

The second time made her weary

And it made the nurses cry.

My brother and i

Share a creatively tortured soul

Self-deprecating and wise

But we’ve never been close;

 I don’t think he would

Offer a kidney

Or a loan

Or a hand to hold

If I needed it.

posted march 17,2008 on her myspace page only days before she died

Mar 292008

This rabbit beating heart pupils so dilated they absorb the world around them so accurately, so acutely so much it hurts. My heart is so swollen with a passionate taste For love A thirst for companionship and lust and sex and philosophical, spiritual, emotional Fulfillment. This rabbit beating heart is strong like hawaiian waves comes […]

Mar 292008

 “May love always find you on your feet and when you walk alone may I always be a pesky moth batting around in the cage of your skull hurling myself at your light.”  posted may 29, 2007 on her myspace page

Mar 292008

This is not what my mother had dreamed for me 9 to 5 in retail still living at home my fiance in jail but i’m happy and i think i’m okay in fact i know i am i am my mother’s worry as big dutch once drew a tattoo for mom “mother’s worry;” what i […]

Mar 292008

He spins poetry short fiction like a DJ spinning mixes Sampling from his memory single-note bassline looped in a continuous drone like a recurring theme In every cracked-spine novel tattered beat poem is a new blood drum thumping fingers clicking the alphabet keys deftly scratching the worn-out 33 Spinning lyrical melodies in run-ons and fragments […]