In death people don’t disappear they brighten up and write poems on the other side of the sky wait for you to decipher their lines. They bury the flowers you planted and eat your leftover soup even if living with the dead was hard their life in your hands is as comparable as empty hands and brick walls. Advertisements Continue reading Nothing
Last night I fell asleep before you came home. I dragged the dog out for a walk but he hates the cold as much as I do. He pissed all over the kitchen floor, he despises being alone. He ate snacks before bedtime wallowing in loneliness. You wanted to have sex while I had creative writing on my mind. My blue journal sprawled between my … Continue reading Woodnotes
You said write a poem about New York moments we almost had in our arms. I ignore you only focus on the times we had; the walk hand in hand on Ste-Catherine street the xmas gifts I gave you in April— you forget everything I remember, that is how memory prevails I could never be true to you. I apologize for the past, present, and … Continue reading Drowning in Carnations
Photo by @dan_cretu from Instagram I need my naps I am a modern poet in semi-deep sleep never fully awake dreaming about pre-raphaelites and the Rosettis still thinking in all the colors you left behind. I hug you close yet you disappear into orange clouds and sunset lawns. I want to forget the long trails to your heart and climb up your mountain to … Continue reading Poets sleep awake
Vodka, champagne ice bucket, free drinks on the house because we know the club owner. This is his wife, we are her privileged friends. We drink and eat for free and pretend we mean something to no one. Girls, girls, girls, on fire, out to impress each other with shoes and a purse and nothing to say. It was q & a for me “What … Continue reading GNO
Some people love you for all the right reasons but you still go searching for the wrong ones. The ones that keep you up or make you want to smoke up all day. I never hide behind a persona or a brand, I am what I am sometimes ditzy sometimes brilliant but always me. I woke up in a Woody Allen movie you can guess … Continue reading Reasons
I mostly watched the singer shake away his age as it caught up with him and nothing seemed to impress us anymore besides one hundred dollar bills and vodka shots. The youth left us with our past. Our ten percent shot at another night of bringing back the days. All the drunken sailors tried to get their hands on us but we have to try … Continue reading Metropolis
I was thinking about you are too loud in my silence, You’re a cross between a rock star and a supermodel as if spring is in the air when winter has a few songs left to play. I will admit I do not fall into cliques or rules because I make my own and burn them after. I pull back for my own sanity. … Continue reading Lordy
I was reading Truly Madly Guilty in my t-shirt and underwear under the blankets away from the -25 Montreal cold. When seven songs arrived at my doorstop that killed me in a slow musical dance. Each one had a story to tell like a poem each voice had locks and keys to a mysterious track in Old Montreal, the one I would stare at every … Continue reading 7 songs
I woke up to write before the coffee, the sunrise it was words that fancied my skin to forget my dream the moment my eyes opened. What is it that makes you want a woman like me? Your list is long and everything you say makes me reevaluate my life as if it were a spreadsheet. I know you only want to use your knees … Continue reading Sunday Musings
helpful writer ramblings from a disturbed mind just like yours
The Diary of a Late-Blooming Romantic.
In the kingdom of life, with the strokes of the brush, the bow and the pen, artists have sowed their hearts to contrive, fields rivalling in beauty the Garden of Eden.
the darker the heart, the deeper the poetry runs
"For your born writer, nothing is so healing as the realization that he has come upon the right word.” —Catherine Drinker Bowen
GRACE FOR PURPOSE
"A word after a word after a word is power" Margaret Atwood
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