Cards

Cards..

Alice pick your part

I keep waiting....

If I could I would get an old GTO

re write every promise in smoke

Watch them fall like ashes one by one...



Scarlett letters bleed into empty promises

The Ace pretends to be a King

I fold........



One hand

I threw the dice

You left the table



The labyrinth we mold out of cards

Gambling dreams

Speaking truth as it leaves your mouth it burns....



How do we believe

When you raped me of everything I knew



I am the devil you never want to face eye to eye

I am the angel who protects under perfect wings

I am the soldier who won a thousand wars



Alice speaks

snow falls

She is laughing

She is swallowed alive



I write a script

I know every word by heart

Ill sing you to sleep

And poison your heart at the same time



An abortion of hope

Cut the heart into pieces

Love rots



My veins run cold

I ask Jesus for advice

He says..

Darling don't believe the lies



My world becomes small

when I thought we were big

I dance at this funeral

You say it's how it was supposed to be

Never felt that way .....when you were holding me.



Trade a secret with me

Ask your heart to be free

I read the Braille on the walls of your trench coat

that used to protect me

Whats it like to have a voice?



I am a Scarlett letter

I am the seine

in your shallow sea.



Never had a chance

Who can contain me?

Straight Jacket

Straight Jacket voice charms the mind
As I sit and stare at the ceiling tonight.

There is no going back this time.
Blame sits on your shelf
In a pornographic world full of hate
It's all a mistake
I was just the cloud of smoke you created

I lay here with a million winning tickets
and you have a million losing ends.

A spine cringes as you enter the room
you have your illusions
I have these gates.

So I toss my cigar in the ocean
Pull the anchor
It's the last you will see of this Commander any way.

Soul Mate

Twisted around metal conclusion
Ripping my bones from your pillow
hiding the pools of blood as I shed tears in the bathtub

hollow drain makes for eyes
I feel the cold inside
Waiting for someone to save me tonight

I see beauty in a picture frame
there never mine.

I reach for your fingers
but your to far away.

I crawl in the dark
searching for the heart
but its never there...

I whisper in the rain
I hear nothing
I wait for the story -

Of souls touching.

Instead...

I hear sirens,

He says, " She isn't breathing."

I say, " Maybe she is....
 

Transformed

The love affair begun
When I was salvaged from death
And He said,

I Am.

I was traded on the black market
lied to and told I was worth the weight
of fools gold.
My bones were trampled down to the soul.

But then from the grave He came
I wear his love on  patches, stitched on my heart

I will sing his anthem
There is nothing in this world that can keep me from the truth


I have a love affair with my Jesus.

If you need to be rescued
all you need is salvation.

The Day We Met

The Day We Met

I held the hand of the desperate boy
with dirty knees
I cut out a paper heart
until you were ready for me

But your valentines box always lied empty

I was a little girl
With skinned arms
my dress was dirty
And my father held my hand

I wanted to cheer you on
with my kiss on your cheek
before the pain begun
before you tried to fill your box with rocks
so love couldn't get in....

I told my father it wasn't to late.
I watched you sit on the play ground alone and sad
And you threw the paper heart away.

I couldn't understand it,
I cried alone in my room
My Father said , not to worry
With Him it will always be ok.

But I want you to know,
the day I gave that heart to you was the day
I gave my heart away.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMv4NkSq2tg

Wonderland

Raised inscription tattoo the bone
letter sent by hand shake
echoing the message in guilted button frame

As you hug me on my door step
pretending the bruises made by your voice
don't hurt as much as if they happened by fist,

Tell me , how the story ends
When Alice has come to resurface
she finds solace.

She is not a  martyr .

I am not a friend
I don't fix  broken mirrors

Fly away butter fly!
I am reminded as I stand
I see caterpillars ,

Joker

Prescription tears settle at the bottom of this bathtub

I think of drowning.

Will It separate lie from heart?

I do - from never again?

The throttle screams

down empty streets

as does the empty window pain

my eyes grow tired

another night

caught alone with out you again.

This is when I'm severed from the bone.

when the dot separates from the I.

Nothing makes sense this night.

You are not my wife!

You are not my wife!

I am folded on the floor

one deck of cards

you play a hand

I am less the joker

I was a god

before you came in.

Prescription tears settle at the bottom of the bathroom floor

"It's to late to save her" he say's

but it wasn't his fault !

it wasn't his fault !

he say's

I was out

starting over again.

Formulas

Plastic bottles fill empty promises
rage takes a stance from across the room
I am numb now
sleeping in my bed

hopeless swings across the ocean for a phone call
I listen
static clears
pianos bring peace in the distance

I hear the hollow cries of peach cotton candy
she reminds me not to see this glass as half empty

I hear the sirens in the wake of the storm
I remember it's just angels and devils..

Angels and devils..
We always win at this game of baseball..

Stings- these tears in the rain.
I'm up again to bat.
no one at home.

She cries in our bed.
I sing her every lullabye
to find some sleep tonight.
I find her a kiss , I pray to heaven
As I unravel, short thread
long needle.
I hear him screaming..

I promise love it will be alright..

The Last Journey Ends Here- Dealing With Bipolar Spouse

This family rest in a grave
Tears buried and screaming
Can anyone here me
Through the  miles of his lies
There's the symphony she is playing
Gathering one by one
They wonder what it was ............

I have folded
on this journey

As his hand rest between cotton and determination
His knife slit the soul of this heart
as he sits quietly mocking
black eyes.
My white dress bleeds
 

What is there of a man with no conscience
lining us up one by one
apologizing as he fires the gun one more time.

There is no promise to this story.
As there is nothing

I pray , I pray as he buries us for the last time
My tears drowned the box we lay in
The sorrow is more blue than any rainbow I could imagine.

I can't imagine this evil creeping in.
I hear the symphony play as my ears fall under  water
As I sing my children a lullaby
I tried so hard
I prayed so hard
Save me now
I am drowning.
But there is no one here this time.

And there are no more lullabies.

Quote from her Personal closet -Amy Everett

The light shines through the filthy canvas

paint hasn't been here in years

"I forgot what it feels like to be listed in an art museum," she says.

"You will never be left off the mantal again," he says.

For My son- The Passing

The black hood draws shut at the foot of the room
I close the door
I cant reach you
Im sorry they hurt you.

If you could see
I live for you
I protected you
And Im sorry.
If I could take it all back I would
I would take every suitcase you had
And burn them away.

Every ounce of pain.
SO many hurt us
and walked away.
It wasnt to our measure of worth son


It was their own.



I see you
your earphones are on.
If I could I would rip out my heart and give you my own.
So you would know you are not alone.

If you can please forgive me.
I should have protected us better.
should have never traded beauty for a storm.

Im praying for us while you sleep,
God will get us through the rain.
Just know how much I love you.

And I never meant for you to have so much pain.

Dandelion Threads....

>
> I here the alarm sounding in the distant sunrise
> I should of ran so long ago
> But I stayed.
>
> You asked me to believe
> You cried me to sleep.
> Now I am here standing alone,
> Nothing left but a pillow
>
> I throw questions in the wind
> Along with the anger and broken promises
>
> I blow the dandelion
> Watch it's beauty as you spit in my face
> On this cold rainy day.
>
> Did you know
> I heard the wind long ago
> She tried to take me away from you
> you held on.
> And cut me to peices
>  all at the same time.
> I gave it all
> gave it all
>
> you owned this childs heart
> cut out perfect waiting every night
> I lay here as you spit in her face.
> The only rain left is the rain from her face.
>
> You had to tear her to peices
> til there was nothing left.
> she bent forwards and in half
> wrote a love note in a bottle hoping he would come back.
>
> Every gift , every promise a diamond shattered and carried away by the sea.
> she sings a lullabye so she can sleep.
> watches beauty fade
> and every dream drowned under the weight of the sand and tide
>
> She was on her knees
> she was briused
> she sacrificed everything for you
>
> We both did
> Then he spit in my face.
> washed away with the winter rain
> not sure how long it will last.
>
> But I pray Jesus takes the pain away.
>
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nATpNWlo-ak&feature=related
>
>

The Great Resolve

Composites slit open stills reeling my veins into your corpse
I can’t keep you alive- I’m drained .
Iris shot from blank gun
I sit on this coffin
You lay on the ground laughing
I sacrifice who I am
You reach for the wrong god.

I pray as I reach for His thorns
I feel His hands they grasp for my own
I know you feel me
You call my name

What is left as you make whole again
But do they see the great sacrafice you have made
That I have bled for thiere mastakes?

I am divided
The beggar claims a martars case.
The wisdom is granted for a wolf in a sheeps cape.
As we wait the trial and jury of his fate.

With nothing left but crowns and thread
Look to the King
To be brought your life again.   

To Change It All..

Life sends clutter that sends an astounding noise that echos through our days that we forget we operate on what we have learned merley from our past and not from our life experience. Or what God has taught us . The back stage has been reborn , the scars renewed and we are now the writers of our very own play. Yet pages of old greif stricken novels hold us back and stain our new pages rendering us from hearing our new loves voices, our childrens cry for us to listen . As we scream in our kitchens, hide in our 9-5 jobs. We forget where dreams come from. We forget that the small hearts that look to us for new moments and new dreams are smoldered by grime and empty side walks. And we remain selfish and full of pride.

I am just a writer, who observes so many children who got lost by the way side. I hear them amoungst friends, they talk about how there parents don't love each other any more, or how they are so busy fighting they don't see them. And there parents say theyr'e children are just fine. These kids are 5, they are 7 maybe 13. And they are smarter than we are. You see there pages have not been torn yet. We havn't had the time to do that . And so soon we forget that are sails arn't broken they have just given up to the storms that rage around us.

I encourage you to become 5, 7 or 13 again. And begin your story again. Walk backstage and re write your play. What would it say? Where would you go? What would your children see? Would you hide? Would you be afraid to love?


Yes I am just a writer. But I encourage you, to open your hearts, your ears and listen. And re write the story again. Before it's to late. .... And throw the old story away. Where it can never be read again.    

Where the strangers Go.

There’s a stain on my glasses

I thought there could be an audience

But God holds on the line.. He said, Girl it’s his ship this time.

There’s a flurry in my belly

And glass instead of wine.

So tell me, What are we fishin for this time.

As the crazy runs out the door

Were left alone once more.

And I know the decision is clear

God holds - he  hands me a line

And I write it down- one last time.

"There isn’t a man that belongs to you with a double mind. "

So I follow the leader that is left

Write one last poem without regret

I hear the frogs

So Lonely in here

And the Dr. says,

What kind of man was that.

Cupid

Broken arrows pile where cupid fell long ago

I sit beneath the tree where time forgot me

To only read A story.

Beggars walk by with nothing to give but pennies.

And I have my cup out for change.

I saw redemption , she wasn’t on her knees

I felt love but it was in a cage.

I saw bravery through a coward

And a fight through broken battle lines.

I am broken

I am commanded

Gun warm

Bruised.

I walk but not alone

Scratched iris but yet not blind.

Looking for the beggar

To give more than his cup.  

Tori Amos - Pretty Good Year

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpLCFph9iv4

Life In A 10x7

Found some new material
Layin around in my pocket
Behind some lip gloss
Where my life is packed in that 10x7

you  smack me and smile

No lookin back-

I hide the tears behind yesterdays sunglasses….

It’s me and you kid
Alone again.

This pop star beauty


And no one’s looking back at me
Except this one page mirror glass
Broken in the back seat
As we drive in this get away car you wave good bye to me.

Have you got a clue?
I manage a smile
As I walk room to room
Of a broken home
I once new
I escape from the nursery we called our home




I fall to the floor
Where every tear echo’s
I gather myself together
And I leave the keys.

The Tin Man

Crows circle above

As I trade the tin man ,for whisky and a light.

An Eastwood film , I ride through the night.

The men are dead here

Eyes have no form

Hearts- Gone.

I never belonged in such a place.

A canvas painted amongst such storms.

 

I wrote Broadway

Couldn’t perform

Puppets on strings

I hate Pinocchio.

Tell me where to ride too

Where the land isn’t quite so cold

Tell me where to fly too

Where the truth is told.

Tell me.

As I search beyond this lantern

Filled with sand.

Falling through your mad hands.

A Letter To Grace

Patchwork blankets coat smiles
Tell me about dreams and pink daisies
In a world of black hurricanes and rainbows.

I will sing her a lullaby something about  a  pretty good year

As optimism stings the night air
We suffer alone – Marching with angels clamoring for joy
“We can make it ,”  she says

So I grab her hand and my prayers

Darlin here we go again
Ill build you secret windows and capes if I can.

Can you feel me from inside reaching –

The line is wearing thin
But the storm rides on
You bear my strength in arms
Frustrated by the cold

Eyelashes and freckles
Under layers of flavored ice cream
"If angels can -we can"
She whispers , as we fall asleep.

Bedtime Story

She’s just a tornado with skinned knees

And a pink dress

She has some sort of ship

And a direct line to God

Lines static

She can tell a good story

But the commander is tired and the rain sometimes , it sometimes never stops falling.

She will tell you about the boys and how they are cowards with swords

And maybe just maybe she’ll tell you that the ocean is a grave yard full of their bones..

There’s a girl with those unusual lips and dark brown eyes, and they all say she is beautiful

But she won’t believe you , because those boys.. those boys..

She has a sailor she calls home,

She has grace to keep her calm,

And she fights, yes.

But if there was a lesson to be learned

It’s in the stories she writes

But we are soldiers hand made by Kings

Is there anyone listening… the line is static…   

Over Coming Abuse

I shuffle through torn pages with words smudged , hardly reading material . These excrement’s are what is left of the memories of my life. A mere shadow blown across the distant time and passages as I listen to Finch  - Ender, play on the computer.  I browse back and forth effortlessly through time in no order , but it goes without forgiveness, The hands I held in the moonlight in the ocean ,naked under the moon, and one innocent kiss- you think  could last forever but ends, with one summer.   As I released everything we were in 5 years – I course forward through time… Stretching thin –dragging a broken heart with me.  Years go by. A marriage ends.  To harsh words and a man in a mask.  Left single again.  I quicken now to poetry and patterns.  I remember walking down the streets at night

 praying , As I watched through plate glass windows, manikin faces putting their children to bed. Wondering could this ever be my fate? Is love something someone could hold for me? Is this my possibility? I stroll back as a child a father figure who raped me  . He stole  my worth, but I knew if I believed in God’s word , I wouldn’t have to go through this over and over again. Could someone see the priceless treasures in me?

It’s been 3 years since that day 3 more broken relationships including a marriage.  To a man who yet didn’t see my worth.  I sit here now in front of a computer. Back at square one. Different today then the girl pondering the people behind the glass walls.  If I did see my worth in God’s eyes I wouldn’t of let them walk on me or beat me down.  I am not a victim to them, just to myself.  Believing the lies they told me. When Jesus said ,” you’re ok.     

Ingannatore

I doc my Aces
Bet my odds on sailing the great red sea
Find the Joker
Laughing , I take my seat.

The ribbons worn loosely
Like her knees- but I mind my manners-
Never got me far , except some scars
But you never minded , I mean mended ,
As you kissed me goodnight with intentions
Of painted Kings hanging onto regret.

So I sing a lullaby to grace as she sleeps in the belly of my stomach
And you wish her away
 you scream for us to be washed away!
 
Jokers become reminders
Love letters become filters

As you laugh down an empty hallway-

It’s all my fault!
It’s all my fault!
Girls-
In the bedroom-
In the bathroom-
Alone
Puffy lips
Beautiful eyes
With no one to see her
In the dark

But she wasn’t the victim
You see.

Running the wrist of the king under cold water
Finding her faults
Finding nothing but mazes instead.

If I Could Find My Coat

Trail the blood from eye lid
Sweating salt palms grim,

There was nothing but absence
Signed and chained was for my protection
Broken was the pen
Guilty was the conscience

The jury sits in silence
Penance for the soul that hangs from your shadow
So you can march far from my words
Left void in the rain
But I am stamped and branded in your journey

In the end it will be to late
No turning back
You were to be  the coat on my back

But yet, you tore the buttons- into shreds.

While the funeral procession plays its last song
You call – to make sure that I am ok..

Let me tell you a story about planes
And real Kings.
The phone is silent
He doesn’t understand

No I guess you wouldn’t I said.
To the mad hatter man.

So vedova- he laughs,
As he sentences his own hanging

She wonders –
Why didn’t he love me?