Wednesday, May 28


You've been all alone for 18 years. The state has been Mother and Father. Hours wasted in entertainment are now all gone. Today you started learning through eyes pried open by the past, and with each new fact you breath a little deeper, unwilling to go back. Now you are bound. Bound to start a revolution, bound to surge forward like a storm. There is no more sleep for you tonight. Sleep is for the dead. 

A "B" post, shared at

Tuesday, May 27

In the Act

I do the dishes,
slowly passing the glass plate
under the stream of water,
The water pours-
a tiny storm in my sink.
A sound at the door,
A shadow falls on me
I'm caught making love again.

Shared at dVerse

Monday, May 26

Memorial Day

This a day to demand change
a word marred by our current president
cursed as the word may be
on being profaned
it is still the tonic that'll heal our land
Can we change that we mourn
for those lost in wars?
Can we change that our sons and daughters were pawns
in a war played by monied richlings?
The honest hold fast to a hope that their deaths
were as honest as the hope that they hold
But truth be told today and tomorrow
about the wars of yesterday and today
Death came uneventfully
Death came with shame
Death came senselessly
knocking at our doors
stealing our youth
while locked away in ivory towers
men stood looking asunder
drinking champagne and laughing

Shared At Imaginary Garden

Sunday, May 25

Within the Mess

The high-pitched buzz of a mosquito sounded by my ear. The buzz rose and fell in pitch as it flew around my head. What a miserable summer this was going to be. It was only 10 o'clock in the morning but I had already sat in the dusty, humid, second-hand shop for two precious hours. In that time I had painted my nails, read through a 1990s copy of Vanity Fair and drank 3 cups of coffee. Maybe it was the coffee that was making me restless.

The decision to work at Our Lady of Light Thrift hadn't been my own. My plans for the summer had been to work with my punk-rock band, The Deadly Vipers, but after I was caught "decorating" the girls' locker-room with black spray-paint and glitter (all harmless promotion for the band, of course), Mom and Dad decided that not only did I need to pay for the damages I had incurred, I needed to learn responsibility. So, they spoke to Father Joseph at the school who helped them cook up the plan of enlisting me to work at the school's auxiliary shop. Hang me, please!

An annoying jingle of bells sounded, alerting my attention. A woman with steel-grey hair and wire-rimmed glasses stood at the door. She was petite beyond measure and her arm-length, floor-length cotton frock made her look over-dressed for the 90 degree weather. "Good, heavens! What a mess!" she declared.

Written for The Mag

Saturday, May 24

The Safest Place I've Ever Known

Danger lurks in every corner of this house.
It creeps through every crevice,
leaving me unhinged from safety,
vulnerable and void.
So I creep into my mother’s arms
and settle on her lap.
I snuggle up to her praying chest
and let the fears be cast away.

Here, I am safe. 

Poetry Challenge: Words Count
Shared at: Imaginary Garden 

Six Word Saturday

Original Painting: Talking Heads by Anita Kunz
Poetry added by Charleen Martinez

Shared at

Sunday, May 18


Edward Hopper, 1922 

"Now, of course, Roy. I wouldn't want to impose on you. It'll only be for a couple of days."

"Cream? Lois?"

"What? Yes, please. But wouldn't you consider it? Think of it as a favor to your Dear Aunt Ruby. You know how much she adores you."

Roy retreated into his chair. "I fail to see which part of letting a 16-year-old run away stay with his Bachelor cousin in New York, is a favor. Why, I ought to have whipped your backside and sent you packing on the first train to Lansdale as soon as you as you set foot in this town."


"Now, don't you start your crying with me! I've got enough trouble as it is at work. Rumor has it, something big is about to go down and I've got to put my full attention to it. My suggestion is, that you go home and face whatever trouble drove you here. Running away never solves anything."

Lois cast her eyes downward. "Yes. I suppose so."

"What's a stay in the big apple going to do for you anyways? Go home. Your mother is worried sick about you."

Not as worried sick as she'll be if she finds out about this, Lois thought, letting her hands rest on her belly.

Shared at

Sunday, May 11

Suspended Reality

Suspended reality. I light my way to the moon through my mind's eye and float above turbulent waters. Slow motion makes the pain drain from my near lifeless body. Behind me, a forest full of secrets lurks-- I shut it out building a wall of fog that blends the truth with my fiction. When will I awake from this dream?

Written for The Mag