New Poems

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I awake each morning coughing and
spitting words that I heard
in the nightmare that I reside in.
Holes in my vocabulary filled with
blasphemy and ignorance. My
throat lined with vile speech
that flows as easily as do I when
on the waterslide at the
amusement park. 

Stupid words.
Describing nothing.
Worn out syllables.
Same old sentences,
chopped and marinated,
disfigured by ugly connotations.
Slinging disrespect like mud,
unheard by those who
really know me,
immune to the onslaught.

I bathe my body.
Perfume myself.
Dress in fine linen wear.
My teeth sparkle,
my scrubbed face smiles
and the world reflects me
in its wonder and

I see the truth then
and must tell the world.
I cannot suppress the
words on my tongue and I 

lash out at once in anger,
with vile, hateful words.

I think to myself,
is it my words I so
easily disperse?
Are they of my choosing
or are they from you 

who taught me each one?

Ode To Annabelle

As the north wind blows beneath
the floor, between cracks never
repaired, around window sash
decayed by countless winter’s
of neglect, through frayed seams
in quilted covering and down
chimney long since deprived
of warmth, she laid remembering.....

of by gone Summers by the pond,
tossing popcorn to the bobbing
goldfish, giggling as blackbirds
swooped in and out singing
songs for food, of spiders
crawling along her hand, turning
it so they would spin a silver
thread toward the ground.
Gently she swung them to and fro,
humming a lullaby.

She smiled briefly as she
began to write.  I, the only
witness to her hand.
Softly then melting into
Summers by the pond.

"Summer first fades
into Autumn before
the cold winds blow."

Annabelle never
asked for
much, except,
not to die alone.