Poetry | Stories | Photography
Elegance in abundance. A beautiful flower in a sea of ordinary flowers.
Standing there, gosh, I would have believed you were a rose.
Now, knowing what I know, you are an Oleander. A beautiful toxic Oleander.
Oh, how I hate you, and I wish I didn’t know.
From home to work, there was no warming up. Cold from the inside out, yet warm to the touch, something old and wretched continued to burn within the old Druid’s skin.
Hungry and cold, when lunch arrived, she ordered a cheeseburger with extra pickles and then ate it at her desk.
With you without solitude, I dream of living alone in a secluded Winter forest house with animals and spirits to keep me company.
Without you in solitude, I dream of living with you in a house full of laughter with the Spring sun moving on the table.
Longing with or without you.
Frozen solid; Frightened by fear.
Clutching the bear, courage and curiosity take hold as she peers down the hallway.
In the darkness, something moves. A silent scream pierces the night.
She stands frozen solid with fear until Daddy scoops her into his arms and gives her a big hug.
Birthed into poverty,
hardship and sorrow
mixed with love & joy.
Growing up was hard,
yet the desire to succeed
was strong within you.
As a politician, you embraced
egalitarianism
and social democracy.
All people deserve health care,
education and housing.
You lost every election, yet
your legacy lives on.
A lover of the incendiary one,
the one who burns her shell and clears away
the old to make way for the new.
Rain doused the fire;
now green buds shoot up new life from
beneath the darkness.
Street signs tell you,
movies show you,
songs encourage you.
Be part of the community,
individuality is not in keeping with this country,
the collective is connected; one is none.
Introverts hide in plain sight,
struggling through the nihilistic dystopian days,
gathering the strength to destroy it all.
A foreigner at the train station,
living within a radical quiet skin.
Too tall for discount shoes,
too solid for little clothes.
“Looking down on me!” they
walk past and impolitely say.
There is no other way for you
are shorter than me, grumpy.
The mask covers the mood.
Tired and burnt out. No one could give me the strength to move my body from the chair, yet you have that power.
Once the kettle boils, you go into my cup.
My sweet teabag, I love you so much. I might dunk you in the water just a few more times.
Our idyllic country.
Towering stone walls threaten to stop the moon from shining, yet we want for nothing.
Each morning we chant, “All belongs to all, all move in one direction, all unite to thank our utopia”.
Our idyllic country was built on the blood and bones of lies.
C & K 