just to the left

if i could i would take your fingers

and slide them prettily down past

my throat

and just to the left, there

raking my skin into an orange fever --

above where an unplucked breast

aches fast for your attention:

just to the left, there.

that is my weapon of choice,

that is the reason for all i do

and if your infinite fingers are

there

then it is in such disarray

as it short-circuits out of necessity

pounding on through the rib cage trap

some creator made for it --

there, that is your answer

to how i feel

if you want to know.

08.2011

barbed

Anna said she wears her life

like a barbed-wire necklace

and it is a line that's escaped me

for years -- the precisely brash

way i never could put it. because

it's like that sometimes, you know --

words as land mines, hearts as bombs,

a war over who loves the other more:

the battle to remain on the earth.

wearing life like a barbed-wire necklace,

pricking through cellophane skin at my neck

to get to the philosophy of me:

it makes me a liability.

i don't want to wear jewels

that cause my poor nerves to bleed;

grit exposed, i'd be

an unworthy martyr

even if i'm not just singing lines

to a disturbed song someone wrote

as she tried to speak for the

reflection in her mirror

and keep it from talking out of turn.

08.2011

[inspired by the line "i'll wear my life like a barbed-wire necklace so let's play truth or dare" in the song "Drink Me" by a lovely songwriter named Anna Nalick.]

it isn't a pretty soul

my soul isn't pretty

it's littered with all those

should-have-saids and

would-have-dones

laid out like set-in stains on fabric

they won't wash away

with bleach

it's torn from loss

and scarred at the hands

of old lovers and friends

who found it necessary to ruin me

before they took their leave

it's blackened in spots from words

that carried judgment, disapproval

i tried to tell that part of me

to make up its mind to die

that there was no need for delay

but i don't think it ever intends on going

and i'm not sure i'd be whole

if it did

there is some good to it, though

or some hope of good

the last thing i want to do

is frighten you off

just thought you deserved fair warning

that i'm not perfect

it isn't a pretty soul

but i do hope you'll stay

01.2010

such fury down

it was all over;

an armistice of grandeur

when the world was left

a thing of destructed beauty.

no one was sure

why the gods had sent

such fury down;

but they never did reveal

their altruistic desires

to the quick,

who were ruining the sanctity of their earth

as fast as the gods tried to save it.

to complain of mere instances

like storms and vacant suns,

one would think

they were being robbed of breath,

none to spare,

armageddon impending.

pity in numbers for them,

fools who would escape under the sheets,

mourn the passing of sobering light

and commit suicide over scrupulous thoughts

that the rain will never cease

again.

04.2010

let's go

i do not wish to go.
i also do not wish to go.

still it would be nice
to have something to say for today,
yes?

we wait.

i am tired of waiting for something
to happen to me, Didi.
i am tired of waiting for someone
to come along, Gogo.

we will wait,
though.
...we will wait.

and what if a lucky man comes and goes
and claims to be the great Godot
or we mistake him as such
but cannot relieve this madness?
who are we waiting for,
what are we waiting for,
anyway?

...we still wait
though.

let's make a plan,
a man for today
so we have something to show
tomorrow.
all right, we shall.
but we know deep down
we will still be
waiting.

"well, shall we go?"
"yes, let's go."

we do not go.

04.2010

[inspired by & line in quotes borrowed from Samuel Beckett's "Waiting for Godot," a rather brilliant piece of theatre. "WFG" was the prompt but there were no limitations. this is simply where my little writing mind took it. it's a rather literal interpretation.]

i could i can i will

i could learn from your slow dance
discern the likes and have-nots
associated with you
i can learn
if you give me just a minute
i will so eagerly learn

03.2012

discover more of you

the mangled streetlight,
bent, scarred from innocent encounters
with an addicted angst,
casts uncertain shadows
on abused pavement,
and through the darkness
you still glow
in all unclaimed beauty.
you radiate sympathy
and will not repent,
but rather embrace the moment when called upon.
the hour's seclusion
echoes in silence.
swift, encompassing...eerie...
misunderstood.
it only desires love
and so you gave it.
if life could be so simple.
in the empty stillness
a vile temptation beckons.
it receives no answer
though you are still standing there.
it curses you, violates you,
but leaves not a hideous mark.
it mocks you, forbids you,
it forces its wretched talon upon you.
you smile through it all.
it speaks, you ignore it.
it touches, you repel it.
it tastes, you scold it.
it hears, you scream at it.
it smells, you are fragrant.
your perfection
cowers under only one other Being
and is all-victorious.
that i could share your heart,
it would be a most glorious hour.
i breathe the sacred air
that you have given back,
finished with it for the moment.
you donate to me
everything good you possess.
i am staggered.
you wait for me
as i discover more of you
and still you smile through it all.

09.2004

threads

i christen these pages anew
with words i can only pray haven't
crossed paths before.

but perhaps it's a lost cause
nowadays.

all the star-crossed poets are cursed
to always find
their lives mirrored on paper,
in rhyme
or simply in a passing thought
they may never find again.

it's the way of the world
but it's also the way they've chosen
so pity is, unfortunately, scarce.

and we twirl around to an end,
whereupon the result is praised and collected
or it becomes the newest resident
of the ever-feared and over-filled
waste-paper bin.

when the muse is gone,
whether vanished or lost,
it's either a fresh vantage point
or catastrophe.

sometimes it's trial and error
and others it spills from the pen
flowing from heart to hand
like charismatic ink with a mind of its own.
unleashed.

then it's over
and it's another extension of the soul
that somehow escaped to the
notebook's threads
where it's left for ready eyes
or else left for dead.

01.2010

i'd find him words

the iridescent moon called my bluff
from his celestial tower:
'you truly don't look so tough
now; time has turned you sour.'
he glowed and sat there smugly,
and i thought grimly that my muse
must never think me so ugly
as when his inspiration i refuse.

it was nothing personal, but my hand
with lunar ink would not tremble;
even if stricken, all unplanned,
the pretty words could not assemble.
i thought it only right to endure the chide
of faithful master, who'd never suffice
to abandon the heavens he loves to abide;
even for me, no worthy sacrifice.

shaking knees stood on steady ground
and i made a fair bargain for peace:
i would write him letters to sway the sound
that silence makes when affections cease.
if he'd remain my muse when needed
and continue his ritual starlit dance,
i'd find him words, undefeated,
either for verse or prose, with a chance

to dissolve the distance, to make him swoon:
my dedication came alive in letters to the moon.

04.2010

[a clean slate.]

hi again. y'all may have noticed i cleaned this place up a bit. OK, i cleaned it up a lot. i just got in the mood to wipe it all away and start posting freshly, which happens a lot when i don't touch something for a while, but i'm going to start posting here more frequently, and really stick with it this time.

so, just checking in. looking forward to reading more from you as well over on your spaces, and hopefully getting more active in the poetry blog scene. thanks for sticking around.

peace and love
dlf xo

nowhere to go

when the words have nowhere to go
they pool precariously in my head
where i trap them between wishes and wants
and memories are bleeding all over the place
seeping into the words
cancerous rendez-vous, infection
by the time they spill out
to the listeners and the non-believers
even i don't exactly know where they've been
but who the hell wants to know
an entire past anyway
i don't have time to know anyone that well
but my words i know
they spend so much time inside of me
i don't even let all of them out
i can't send them just anywhere
they are my protected progeny
where else would they go
we'd both be lost

08.2011

[poetry soon.]

hello everyone. i realize it's been a while since you've heard from me, and i apologize. currently i'm living in France teaching English, so sometimes it's hard to keep up with this little blog of mine. however, i will be returning quite soon and posting more regularly, i promise. just about a month and a half to go here in France before heading back to the States for whatever new adventure life has in store for me...

that being said, i'd like to edit this blog a bit, not in layout or design but just in the posts i've made, and i might go through and delete a few here and there. sometimes i get in these weird redesign phases where i just want to wipe the slate clean and start all over. i hope that no matter what you'll stick with me here and continue to read my work and support me, and i hope to be able to do the same for you.

i am still on Poets United and hope to keep contributing there, so if you've come over from PU, welcome, and stay tuned for original poetry very soon.

peace and love
dlf xo