Shadowtree3Who is this writer,
what makes her tick?
What heats her blood;
makes it run carmine, thick?
What causes stir deeply,
where emotions run wild
what sickens her
to the core,
of her inner child?
What fills her, what warms her…
when ugly prevails?
What is the scent
that can fill
the most stagnant,
windless sails?
Why must she write?
What does she have to say,
that she must free from fingertips
pressing, potent words
imparted, permission-less
unto your day?

Part Brilliant Part Behmoth

For Robin Williams, Amy Whinehouse, Phillip Seymour Hoffman….if you knew this would you have?

To say that you were
my top three
where inspiration peaks,
you had me for tea;
You indulged on the level
of a velvetty, chocolate torte,
you laughed and winked
at my every retort,
you indulged my every synapse
albeit recklessly,
You understood the dangerous way
the endorphins leak free,
like my worst hours
of a drinking spree,
you left me weary and abandoned
like a lover’s last fling,
you filled me with abatement
wanting of a ring,
If I’d dropped your publicist a letter
fruited with my favorite scent
would you have realized then
all that’d you’d meant?
We were cut erratically,
sewn, perhaps of the same wildly patterned cloth
Same, coarsely hemmed seams
part brilliant, part behemoth?