silent night, holy night (trigger warning- graphic rape and death and truth)

there are many monsters finding homes in shadows

setting up shop in back alleys and underground tunnels

they get together and draw a picture of a predator

detailing his pionty teeth, goatte, gold medallions

getting lost in the forest of chest hair, the hunched shoulders

the van of abduction white tinted windows with logos or icecream

“children you need to be careful and don’t go with strangers

you can get hurt, they will do bad things stranger danger”

the stories of pedophiles peddling candy to the innocent

or the box of puppies used to entice little girls and boys away

we forget about the children who go home and the evil emerges

the hunter in a stand waiting with bated breath for game

the villain in the walls and the fear and hatred of life

the turning of heads and denial of responsibility by others

sorry, kiddo, i gotta work then i have a yoga class, busy schedule

there is no hideaway, no treehouse, no neighbor with rosy cheeks

the good boys and girls have been told by their mommies and daddies

that you are not the good person they should be seen in public with

and even though you are not to blame you are not to be talked to

you carry in your hands the alpha and omega of karmic proportions

a very sad victim of circumstance-drugs, rocknroll and rape

the screaming voice begging for help has been taken and burned

any chance of escape slips further away as more and more

initiates into the taboo of moral decline and killers of ego

dance past with a smile and a nod and a pat on the head

a constant look out for the escape hatch or hidden button

the scooby doo bookcase that flips you into the safety

a passageway between your bed and the outside

outside is more inviting than home when the devil sees

honing in on an oppurtunity to revisit the room full of dolls

dolls with the sparkling happy faces and the hymen intact

turn your head, eyes closed, block it out, don’t make a sound

this is the emmy winning drama “the rapist of my life”

you were left and he took over, breaking promises

forging lies of glittering silver and needle marks

you can smell it in the sweat dripping on your face

the egg of death and starter fluid, a gooey violent center

cracking, sending sickness swimming down your thighs

the dreams of ponies, rainbows, and pretty pink flowers

have been boxed up and given away to other children

you have no more time for things such as those

there is no use to have dolls when you can have babies

bearing the sin of the father, growing and nurturing

your childhood replaced with a child of your own

a ten year old mother smart enough and strong enough

to find a hope and a prayer for the salvation of the future

after the midnight “bonding” and the taking and shaking

as mother screams “why do you want her more than me”

it’s safe to close your eyes and search for a hope and a safety

a time of frantic praying to anything and a wish on a star

“star light star bright first star i see tonight i wish i may

i wish i might have the wish i wish tonight!” soothing words

a song of hope that died long ago reborn renewed

a prayer, a mantra, a dream, a fantasy, begging the omnipotent

the one who turned on you as you face the house of horrors alone

god and the devil in casinos and your life as betting chips

rolling dice and drinking shots while you becoming the new job

growing a monster made of a monster in a monster paradise

the king dick of killers of innocence and murderers of love

the repo man hitching your innocence up and towing it away

the last hope, the only solace left in the darkness and terror

the cold dark blood stained sheets and the pillow soaked in tears

the thing that will be human, it moves and kicks twisting inside

a light, one ray of hope shining through the curtain and darkness

“whoever, wherever you are, if you are, please, please help me!

i will do anything at all, please just help!  i can’t go on!  i can’t…”

pacts and promises offered and no response from the shop upstairs

the cancer moves, growing, expanding your belly, eating the baby fat

you are no longer a baby and it is time that you are a woman

the mother of your brother who grows inside planted by the father

the off ramps all closed for repair, leaving only one escape

as the water spills down mixing with the nightly bank deposits

the liquid reminder that you are daddy’s favorite girl and toy

as the mother screams in jealous rages and forgets her duties

the morality killed by needles full of poison and insanity

the problems of the screaming devils no longer audible

the only sound is the sound of catching your breath in pain

the sound of your feet scurrying for the items packed away

the case of preparation built months before in silence

“the next pain it will be time, are you ready? you can do it!”

legs and feet prepared, all the ritual tools at the ready

the magical truth found-the life and death of everything

it is never clean, never pretty, blood in blood out

as the pain begins under the ribs moving down

the huge mass folding in on itself, body screaming

there will be no baby, no doll, it’s time for daddy’s girls to go

no prayers, no crying, one sound heard:a shot to the head

the unholy product is taken gently by the silence of the newly dead



graeae in small town oklahoma


graeae of greek mythology
art found at

we aren’t quite sure why, the what and the how are clear

but the essence of propulsion, the driving force

is locked in boxes in boxes in boxed in code

we have spent long nights in electric parlors

designing philosophies of pinpoint accuracy

anthropological physics drawing x&y equations

burning calories in conversational warfare

intellectual mechanics churning hopping bopping

expelling ticker tape in ancient hieroglyphs

the attempts of the few free minds

the psyches unchained, unhindered

the original mint condition cadillac of mentality

resorting to guessing games and scavenger hunts

all in the attempt to unearth the source of your madness

you are a plague, a pestilence, the fall of emotional economics

a brush fire among the dry mesquite of walking talking clowns

is there a new disease unleashed

and you without an umbrella or vaccine

or is it a poison, radiation seeping

into the water flowing into your veins

a green, nuclear sludge from bullets and bombs

the idea of demonic possession almost valid

to those pragmatist toting atheist philosophies

your magnitude can make the devil appear

your evil wicked cruelty makes demons cringe

is it the ghost of ancient cultures and dinosaurs extinct

haunting the halls in your mind, howling and scratching

did they forget your shiny new toy in your happy meal

you and yours, kindred souls nestled in hate

created by the capture and drowning of angels

the most dangerous of all monsters has a dazzling smile

and loving eyes, grey hair whispering hippie rhetoric

bringing in those poor saps who signed up for self sacrifice

your love of baked goods, cookies and grandchildren

your love of seeing the full explosion of pain and eruption of tears

the salty drops you collect in bottles living in the spice rack

bedazzling and beading injustice, degradation, cruelty and threats

your gaggle of witches and your coven of bitches

spreading nightmares and progressive famine

the clown with the red lips and the dumpy hips in the lead

the unassuming whispering nymph of poetry and pen

sporting the used pastel floral print dresses and bongs

because smoking weed and hemingway are the true blue

the new call of your battle acapella escaping tiny mouths

belting out voices saying the lines you placed in tiny brains

your club of unreasonable hatred and destruction

gluton free brunch of faux feminists

the flaunting of a new brand of cruel

call it surreal and fools fork over payola

there are those who see your clothed hatred

the time for unveiling has arrived with the mail

and you the hateful, the liars, the pretenders

you have been exposed and high-lighted

the triple divinity with los vegas personas

the plastic skin bubbling and dripping off

exposing the suffering and loathing gooey middle

but your darkness cannot block the light

the moon still hangs bright in the night

friendship, comradery an end to loneliness

are dazzling jewels of hope out of your reach

so do your dance shake and jive swing those hips

speak your hypnotic bullshit and flash the dentures bright

you the lying clan of agitators, the red wine stain of spite



maybe probably more than likely the dumbest poem ever

i am completely embarrassed to admit i wrote this…..but my partner has insisted i put it up, that it is funny and that i am a complete fool (i am assuming she is saying i am half fool half weirdo) there was begging and pleading on both sides and i conceded to her only bc the ratio of me being correct v her being correct is very much off plum bc i am always right-she needs to feel like she has a fighting chance….so for amy, i will post the most idiotic piece i have ever written and i only wrote it bc it was pounding in my brain when i was trying to sleep, which maybe the most embarrassing part of all of this:

-the anthem of an angry teenage lesbian-

one two “hey fuck you!”

three four “I want more!”

five six “i hate dicks!”

seven eight “ate????”

nine ten “we broke up again”

that’s it the end

just another day in paradise

































































































i am breaking

there are too many cracks in the foundation

walls crumbling

my defenses slowly decaying and breaking apart

just wet cardboard

i can’t breath under this weight, fish out of water

stupid to struggle

i just want to go to sleep-a dreamless, thoughtless void


little dreams in baby bubbles

there are some days the sound of you breathing makes me violent

i want to take you down with shattered glass and fist of fury

maybe that is my natural state of being-violent and angry and harsh

the screaming banshee warning of death and the reaper that brings it

while you instigate others to smash walls, hurl insults, derogatory flattery

spoken in screams wafting into my mind like the smell of hell and sulfur

there is no escaping the jagged edges of who we are, an explosion

sometimes i think i will go crazy or i have and hold a return ticket

a demented and fragmented dream, full color and surround sound

the sound of job and his troubles the theme song of decades

i am too tired, too pissed off, and too foolish to understand

the truth of it is, i don’t buy into your pre-fab innocence

i know the dance of the fool from the tarot deck-it’s worn, dated

the back in the day recipe of fantasy with a sprinkle of truth

the piss, the smell, the pile of shit in the corner growing stale

the trademark wide-eyed confusion while calling contract killers

to attack, annihilation of the one person who hung around

the voice booming over the loud speaker not from your mouth

but reading your book of sadness and pity, verbatim

it’s such a cruel cruel world, you have had it bad-real bad

never your choice, never your actions, never your responsibility

it’s all a reaction to me-the small town girl with the silver boots

it was beautiful and fancy-punk rock shows, mohawks and lsd

 you were the king until that night of gravel and poetry and glitter

it’s all been downhill since i came along, jezebel peddling lies

the nights in cheap motel rooms, staph infections and whores

i brought down the rain of crack and meth and malt liquor 

i took your hand busting through metal for pills in brown bottles

that is the story you have told, the reality you wove into being

i don’t remember it that way, but i was never as smart as you

i recall begging and tears and pleading hoping for change

the bitch sitting on my floor telling me how to live my life

the smell of the hospital room a beautiful baby in my arms

as he held the gun to my head demanding to know your location 

i remember frozen bank accounts and jobs in laundry factories

bus tickets from austin and midnights driving trying to find you

burning beans in the kitchen and missing medicine for the kid

seven years of children with questions and tears and fears

the same seven years of starter fluid and lithium in your veins

guitars to the head, seizures, fist fights and whiskey hang overs

time after time, year after year, fight after fight, the promises broken

both of us with blood on our hands and knives in our backs

now here we are co-owners of a mountain of destruction

playing who has it the worst and who done it this time

drawing straws for angry dope fiend of the year

i don’t know if i can handle anymore psychic warfare

i have the white flag in my hands-too afraid to wave it

the battlefield is soaked with blood and sweat

boots sinking in mud to the knees-our own battle of antietam

for once, i am down to my last dollar and my last hope

i can’t see painless way out of the forest and shadows

but i know i can’t go on like this, i am running out of steam

to hell with memories, fighting, forgiveness and fault 

we are family, a mixture of dna formed life of beauty

give me the damned treaty and i will sign

i give up, i surrender







fingers hovering over the red button of annihilation-not your granddaddy’s kinda war

arrogance pomp and circumstance

holding the holy wars in your hands

the capture of humanity wrapped

in a shroud of stars and stripes

because you bleed red white and blue

the domination of other nations

cultures, lives, dogma, knowledge

thrown like dice in a back alley shadow

the hustler knowing the tricks and the traps

but the lines of pitiful fools keeps growing

never stopping long enough to know

those who can’t don’t, won’t hope

it’s different for those who sing

open unafraid unhindered 

belting out bottomless lyrics

when the saints come marching in

and all the trivia of amazing grace

reading words without comprehension

symbols written in sand at low tide

kill those at the wrong end of the rainbow

never seeing glitter and gold and hope

watching your child starve, shake, sick

too many flies to wipe from their faces

they can’t eat words or drink sentiment

peddling your freedom door to door

in the neighborhoods of popup houses

with no guts, no trademark, no idea

a beige population with picket fences

screaming words in combinations

stirring the emotions of bred nationalists 

the children raised on lies, apple pie

baseball, hot dogs and jesus christ

stomping in unison, automatons chanting

“let freedom ring, democracy for all”

tired phrases, definition lost in translation

uncle sam sending birthday cards and love

draft numbers concocted, dropped in the hat

like bingo numbers in the old folks home

the very judicial sentiment in small print

a contract for open hunting season

on those born in the wrong place wrong time

it’s all about survival of the fittest, eugentics

romantic revolutions carried out by children

seven steps removed from humanity

the ritual beginning with the broken ego

the self shaved away with locks of hair

the initiation, indoctrination and validation

the ever present buzzing of the hive mind

one unit, one body, one hand murdering

setting thousands of babies on fire

the laundry list of philosophy and excuses

cannot neutralize the image of the three year old

girl wrapped around her mother’s knee

eyes watching as bullets hit heads

spraying brains on concrete and bricks

terrified, existing long enough to know

to feel the warmth of the mother’s blood

the hand once steady, now limp and loose

there is no justification, no moral rationale

when the mother screams in labor

the birth of a still born innocent monster

a wad of skinless organs, bones and pain

the baby who lives with no skull and 4 legs

the result of uranium plated death 

radioactive, nuclear devices of submission

recycled and used as a fine china set

enemies bought and paid for with taxes

billions of dollars invested in a war

to kill an enemy who carries a gun

stamped made in the usa 






daddy’s girl

when i was a little girl

you would wake me up

every full moon

so we could howl together

the little girl in pajamas

sleep in the corners of my eyes

shuffling over grass to the place

in the front yard set apart

from the rest-the howling post

a little spot of sacred ground

circle of hope and sadness

the birth and loss of another month

the moon, she knows the howling

the family standing in the yard

in the small texas town

when the moon was undressed

it was time to pay homage to her

then things changed as they do

lives in constant evolution

there was no more howling

everything, my life, standing still

a stillness, a silence eerie

to stop howling meant separation

and separation meant loneliness

i was a little girl begging for hugs

birthday cards lost in the mail

gifts given with stipulations

the missing phone calls

you were the wind

just movin’ on down the line

i was just expendable

the throw away kid

too young to do much good

i did all i could, adapting

taking care of the little one

the tiny sister unable do it alone

the mother shattered by loss

locked away drunk in her room

only learning you were in town

by the cruelty inflicted by your mother

bringing an audience to smile and laugh

at my gut wrenching pain, waterfall tears

your return was an unexpected surprise

there was no way to pause and restart

only forward momentum, no stopping to breathe

humiliation, rejection, passive aggressive actions

words said in a jeep on christmas

expression of hatred for the innocent

breaking the contract of compromise

no acknowledgement of existence

it was my turn to forget and abandon

almost a decade of denial, refusing

to acknowledge you, silent sadness

drowning in a pool of resentments

another evolution of life and love

the turning of the wheel of fate

forgiveness, comfort, empathy

your mortality evident, undeniable

you were not the god i made you

you were like the rest of us

fallible, arrogant, human

conversations in the backyard

phone calls during gunsmoke

songs sent through email

an understanding and acceptance

3 years of friendship and reality

listening to stories of the past

these times are the first in my memory

there are times i still cry, missing you

there are times i laugh, missing you

i still look at a full moon hanging in the sky

remembering the sound of your voice

and the twinkle in your blue eyes



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