Poor old white men

I'm trying to remember my compassion
As I see your priveledge torn from you
You're knocked down a few pegs
Made equal with those you lorded over
Like a spoiled child used to having it all
Suddenly you are forced to share
And that can feel so unfair
But your feeling is a reaction
To sudden equilibrium
The adjustment to a new normal
May feel uncomfortable
But it is deserved
And you will adjust, in time
What we take from you wasn't yours
It is proper and fair for you to share
So I feel empathy for your angst
But I feel ritcheous in the outcome.

Not my business

What's said behind my back
Isn't my business
I don't choose to carry anger
Or bitterness in my heart
I can't stop what you think
Anymore than I can guess it
And it isn't my business to know
Unless you are willing to speak upIts my choice to listen
When criticism is brought to me
But I also choose to decide
If I find truth in those words
When what you say isn't my truth
I chose to stay true to myself
Regardless of what you thinkSelf regard may not win me popularity
But it makes being alone more bearable.

Not truths

Two faced liar
Peddling half truth
Making passing assurances
Just to shut me upThe lies you tell to others
Disprove the lies you tell me
I see the truth in your actions
Patterns of behavior betray youI don't understand
The point of your position
How is it you don't learn
Each new time you get caughtMessy webs you weave
Get tangled by your actions
You try to worm your way out
Slither past the mess you've madeSomehow you aren't fazed
As you go on to lie another day.

Forever lie

The lie of forever
Speaks to our lazy soul
Remembering pain of romance
The inevitable end of love
This dank truth we avoid
We focus on a bright illusion
An unfounded certainty
That love will beat the odds
We court cognitive dissonance
Let dopamine rule us
So reality will not intrude
And I cannot fault this act
As the idea of forever comforts
When the reality of now hurts.

Objectification isn't consent

What a person wears
How a person looks
Why a person chooses
Is not an invitationObjectification is a thought
It isnt the act taken
The unreality if an object
Does not circumvent consentDecent human beings
Know that no person is less
Gender doesn't gave hierarchy
No one has the right to harm.

Unnatural nature

If there only were an invisible bubble
That could save me from reactions
That wasn't stuffy and confining
Soft climate control and a low fan
To kept the natural part of nature
Away from my bodies unnatural responseI love the feel of grass under my feet
And the sight of trees above me
And the smell of damp earth
I just don't like the sneezing and sniffles
The next day boogers and phlegmI resent the swirling air of dust
That irritates on a windy day
Repulsed by the fragrant fermentation
Of earth composting after rain
Surviving the sweet floral smell
Through the sheer act of avoidance I put a photo of the forrest
On my monitor at home and work
I live vicariously through video
Seeing the world through a small screen
The world I live in may not be ideal
But I choose distance over discomfort.

What greater being than this.

We must ostracize this land
and nullify the bands of secrecy
to bring back what was forgot
in white picketed fantasies
We share this common bond
an ache within the pond of decency
clawing up the river we seek the words
to explain our helot leniency; Then, ignoring the rational,
abruptly you frighten me
a girl in a forest of feeling
fearing to Be
Should I give all
to this beast you decree
as a shadow of nothing
Yet it cries to me feverently
or shall I call back to it
and seek it as lustily
as you do seek me.

Romance Eludes Me

I'm caught by the thought;
The more thet know the less they want
Real is only ideal until its boring
Comfort conflicts with commitmentThe dance of romance eludes me
The function of seduction is a laugh
The lies that we try just to get by
Are temporary temptations at bestI rebel againt the hell of waining interest
The male gaze doesn't grant me worth
I'm not a damsel in distress to be desired
Somehow I will survive these shallowsI may lament my loneliness
But I refute any reference to deference
I will not be less to catch some quarry
Let them play that sick game without me.

My art is my priveledge

Sometimes it's about perspective
What we have vs what we don't
I may not have health, physical or mental
I have never been, or known, the idle rich
But I am smart and employed
I have love that encouraged my voice
I comfort myself with my creativity
Sometimes I have to count my dollars
Be careful in my choosing of supplies
But I have more than one canvas
I have more than one paint
I have more than one brush
My art is my priveledge.

In my youth without thought

In appropriate words I cannot think
As words are such but a weak expression
of how this quilted silence lives inside of me
For deeply is she hidden
folded under such darkened velvet
in the quiet recesses of my soul
That I may no longer know her face
And in those delicate hands of youth
She holds a box of memories
that I may never see
For in my bitter misery
I made her hide away from me.

Abject object

Appearance is our first impression
Proceeding words spoken
I aim for clean and cute
I hope for a second considerationI don't always object to being an object
But the object I don't want to be
Is an object to be owned
An object chassing affectionIn my old age, I'm tired of sexy
I'm frustrated by the expectation
I wish my body wasn't a barter
I rebel againt "keeping it up"I want to be a free range object
Living between "looking nice"
And "keeping a mate"
My style is for my pleasureAttractive is relative
And personality effects perception
I hope to be disliked for what I say
Not for how I look.

Every Voice Matters

We get so used to fighting the "them"
That we start to fight our "us"
We waste our time refining "us"
And loose the message to minutiaBut it isn't always about one voice
Or one consistent message
The details aren't as important
As the thread that binds usOur allies make us stronger
Teachers further our message
A chorus makes us louder
Division can only divide usThere is value in varied perspectives
The old voice brings wisdom
The young voice brings change
The dissenting voice brings reflectionA unexpected spark in one person
Grows to a slow burn in the many
Flames can come together as a wildfire
But won't survive if they're doused.


Oh little miss contrary
why do we have to compete
they're just words on brittle lips
of minds that don't seem to meet

I wish you would listen
to the words you speak aloud
and see how much they hurt me
when we're standing in a crowd

you don't have to agree
to give my words credit
I wish you'd wear some empathy
even just a little bit

it isn't just what you mean
that matters when you speak
it's what you leave inside of me
that brings the tears I leak

I put in you in the distance now
away from my gentle heart
your casual, cruel, contrary
can't hurt if we're apart.

Little Pieces

Favorable dissection has been wrought on me
a delectable detection of my humanity
The thought was of respect and the truth of fury
but that has yet to give me reason to flee
I've done all this wonder before
the socialization I have to deplore
A gentle reminder of my spawned beginning
when that soft womb made me secure
He held me up into the light
burnt my hand with the burning bulb
told me of this lack of flight
this body does withhold
Bit me off a piece of knowledge
chewed it down to into bone
Look down at the rubbled mess
and pondered wherefore it had come
Wisdom should be something to relish
if logic would not interfere
but love has taken its rightful place
and given me something to fear.

My novel: "Discarded Gifts" Excerpt

Chapter 1

The sneaker mocked her.  Penny rolled over.  Moonlight came in from the window and illuminated its gold sequins.  She pushed the sheet and duvet off.  It was boastful, that sneaker, with all its glitter and glam.  Worse, the sneaker knew of her stupidity. With a click, Penny turned on the bedside lamp.  Her eyes squinted in protest.  The covers fell to the floor with a thud.  Her feet touched down on the hardwood and she kicked aside the offending pile of blankets.  The gaudy shoe wasn't moved by her scathing gaze.  It just sat there.  Each sparkle a spotlight on her shame.

Hours before she stepped out of the post office and the day stole her senses.  It was warm in the sunshine and crisp in the shade.  The pale blue sky was full of fluffy clouds and the sun played peek-a-boo between the trees.  All she could think, as she stood with the warmth on her face, was about walking down to the park.

She only went a few blocks outside her safety zone.  With thumbs hooked in th…

Try and fail

I don't choose a world
of don'ts and can'ts
I live my world in try
and fail and try again
Sometimes I get success
I always get productive.

To much for a man

If the trick to catch a man
Is to be thin and young and dumb
Then Im not sure there is a man
Im going to try and seekIm not willing to be submissive
To court or keep a guy
Pleasure and companionship
Can be found other waysIm fat and old and smart
I like food more than sex
No one will acuse me of being fun
Im at odds with keeping a mateI wont spend my life
In a perpetual chase
I think I can live without
Yeah, Im better off on my own.


Grief is an odd thing
like a slap in the face
it's surprises and stings
and leaves a mark It can come in waves
crashing over us
pulling us under
suffocating under the weight Other times it's a numbness
as if nothing has changed
but the colors are muted
The day a bit less brightFor a moment it isnt so bad
And then grief sneaks up on us
because it lives with us always
the visits just get less frequentWe go on in this incomplete world
A world that keeps moving
A new day that keeps dawning
We live with what it is.

Happy path

I sometimes wonder
How they cannot see
That investing in anger
Is an act of futility
Anger does not return joy
Or make one better
Rage is the path
To a rancid bitter
Happy is hard
Its a choice of attitude
A habbit of seeking positive
Even when your not in the mood
I dont know whats easier
The happy or angry path
But i know the one ive chosen
And its not one of wrath.


I never wanted to be a circus clown
to turn the world upside down
with a laugh and a lark
I always wanted them to see me for my mind
and to think about me anytime
when they heard my true voice
the world is more cruel than this
when it doesn't give you beauties kiss
you watch the rest make headway
while you just wait and pray
is yearning the only kind of fever
that will lead me to the place of furvor
where I'll find bright lights on my face
I don't think it's wrong to yearn for
a little recognition for what I make more
than all the other girls
I'm driven to the page
to write down my thoughts about me
even when the rest don't care I write wishing for a blank stare
My words are all I have, you see
to connect me to this world around me
I wish you could taste them half as much
as you discard them from your touch.