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Editing - rough draft

White wedding

Silent shadows
slip, slip behind your veil
flashed pastels
paint with tears
on an angel's face
descending now
then rising up again
painfully your heart
will learn how to bend
will then the rain
begin now to cleanse
the stains collecting
upon white linen?

A grandma's kitchen

A special homemade
recipe sweet aroma flavor
permeate the air
of favorite chicken
noodle soup
added with sliced onions,
carrots, vegetables, and tortillas
Yellow cornbread and sweet butter
along with the resistance
making the mouth-watering
for a craving warm delicious meal
bringing to the table
Waiting for the silver spoon and
bowl to be served
filling the tummy with hunger quest
of splendid taste consume
During the holiday season celebration
with a family gathering joy of laughter


Are you not human?
Can you not, in medical grace, see my wounds?
Can you not, in lyrical essence, read my pain?
Do you lack the lawful insight to know my persecutors?
Are you not human enough to express some love?
Is your wisdom insufficient to guide me to peace?
Are you not bestowed enough to allow me to prosper?
Do you not share in the joy that my people are not in sorrow?
Are you not human?

Twisted Christmas

T'was the night before Christmas,
Papa Noir's firing up the hearse.
The back's filled with a coffin shaped sack.
A happy Holiday curse!

The skeletons dangled
from the closet with cheer.
In hopes their final ride
would soon be near.

The halls are decked
with fingers and toes.
Even the demons stopped by
to kiss the Mistlehoe!

Cookies laced with arsenic
followed by a vodka chaser.
The party's just begun.
His festive bag encased her!


At first, it was your smile, I was lost wondering how beautiful it shone and lit up the room.

In denial, you gave me warmth when I was blue, The scent of flowers all over you seemed bliss, and The daydream I hated became me.

You were my daydream.

Acceptance, I laughed at a fairytale, A knife in my thighs reminded me that you were only the sun.

As you lit up you set rather too soon.


Lend me your shoes
and I will try to walk
that proverbial mile.

Ah, yes. They are heavy,
and much too tight,
quite battered and worn
along the soles.
But still,
let me try to walk.

I step past your memories -
the hazy parts of your life
that didn't fit properly.
It feels like a dancer wearing a straitjacket,
confining and suffocating,
all wrong and stiff, almost - jagged.

Alcohol abuse attracts boredom in abundance
A bonified abandonment of all that amounts to ‘being’
Clarifying clearly what’s certainly the culprit of
Detonating delirious dreams: it delves deep under skin
The devil is the drink, and if you drink you will sink
Life will eventually end – evade what seems ecstatic
Loyal friends; family, fragile fortuitous times
Gin-soaked jeans; guilt, and ghastly nightly girls
Hating what’s horrendous; the half-heartfelt held-hands
Heading to hotels, with heinous hyena-like humans

Hour of the Devil

3 am, the hour of the devil arrives
A time when the darkness fills our eyes
Our inner demons start to spin
And the fear of the unknown is about to begin

The silence is so loud that it fills our ears
Forcing us to face our fears
Our souls seem lost in a void of despair
And the only thing you can do is just sit and stare

Thoughts of doubt and worry
Pollute the air and make it scary
But we can fight these demons and banish them away
And bravely go on with a new day.


She came to my room like I knew she would,
Buzzing around and up to no good...
I could hear her there but I just couldn’t see,
This nasty creature who was torturing me...

Another sleepless night for sure,
I was still awake at a quarter to four...
I begged her for mercy but wouldn’t you know it,
It’s not in her nature to ever show it...

Her shadow I saw on the wall by the curtain,
Just one thing to do, that much was for certain...
Only her death would end this fight,
I jumped out of bed and turned on the light...

High Tension Wires

Spitfire phrases
shoot off into space
across high tension wires
a rhythmic and melodic chase
displayed as butterfly cannons
much more than a race
a digital sensation
that will make your heart race
deftly his fingers
move across the fretboard
the concert has started
He's tuned his guitars
now kick back and relax
E.J. is here!
something spectacular to hear!


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