Levant

Above puddles of mudded water,
Embers fade to black,
Dust of stone,
and claret,
and bone,
Choke me in what was my home.
No place left to drown my sorrows,
In these ruins I bury my tomorrow.

Smile

This may seem quite juvenile
but oh how I’d love to see you smile
and take every single second in, as
minute hairs flicker on your skin, as
something sets your heart a-beating, as
you breathe in, sweet inhalation
imagining a sweet sensation
corners of lips curl up high
and you just seem so satisfied
letting out a gentle giggle, and
your eyes flicker to and fro, and
they think of things I’ll never know, and
while I wish I could read your mind a while
I’d learn more of your soul if I could see you smile.

Donuts

Lips wet with promises never kept like
Fire turned to ash and sentences not meant
To sound brash but yet into the air they tear
And swear and curse and bark authority
Never contemplated like unintentional patriarchs
(if such a thing could exist)
And apologies not heard and excuses lost while
Scrambling for the right word
And stumbling for something to say
But no thoughts are found on the way
And basic rhymes keep filling the air
Juvenile ideas of couplet poetry ultimately bullshit
Because the only way to describe
Bloody emotions that run thick as tar and drip red
Is rapid-fire free-verse that drags the soul
Down somber and screaming with eyes wide-open
Drowning in oceans of words with no punctuation to grab
And maybe this is too much
Actually this is definitely too much
A complete exaggeration
A pathetic overreaction
But good poetry reveals
Wounds long since scabbed over and exposes them to
The Unyielding Everything
And the eye of the beholder is blinking repeatedly
With Blind Willie’s dead voice drifting
Dark is the night
Cold is the ground
I still am lost
Will I ever be found?

Luce

Mother to three boys, Wife to one man,
and she hunts down Misogynists as much as she can.
So funny and friendly, yet still ready for war,
all of your privilege can't protect you anymore.
Here comes the tongue twister, the ego blister, the Righteous Sister
listen Mister don't even try to diss her.

She's a Tory-bashing, Patriarchy-smashing,
deliverer of many a verbal tongue-lashing.
Equality-fighter, eternal wrong-righter,
the bosses try but they just cannot smite her.
She's Professor X of the homogametic kind.
She's a Hero, a Friend; what an incredible find!

Reverie

Two souls astride a lustrum born,
into their kinship a woven and worn,
tread of the toe, a familiarity,
older than both yet impossible to see.

An eternal bond, at least eternal to me,
for our dissonance leads only to harmony,
as we silently sing this sweet melody,
words are not needed for this reverie.