Bittersweet reminders-
what would have been
of what could be.

Trickles of remorse
whirl upstream
seeping into pores.
Twisted thoughts
shattered into screams
refusing to settle-
aching into dreams.

Rest hangs-
on the back of eyelids
but serenity refuses to obey.


The Beating

There was nothing but the faint sound of a beating noise. She could not distinguish if it was coming from in her own head or outside. Lost. She looked around; the world was unfamiliar. Had she fell asleep here? It did not make any sense.

She pulled herself up from the ground where she lay in a mat of tangled leaves and branches. Trees loomed over her twisting their dark thorny branches in cascades of leafy fingers that formed an impenetrable fortress. If there was sun shining somewhere, she could not tell. The garment on her was torn and threadbare as if it had been worn many times. She fingered the soft cotton rolling it over her thumb. It seemed familiar. Her feet were bare. A thought popped into her head, shoes. Why would she be without shoes? The girl rubbed her temples, the beating, it was still distant but persistent.

Her body ached as she sat up. The ragged dress hardly fell to her knees. There were cuts and bruises on her legs and arms. Still, she could not remember a thing. Even her own name seemed to escape her. She decided to stand up. The only thing to do was move from wherever she was. The wretched beating, she wanted to leave it behind. It was agonizing. After much concentration, she stumbled to her feet on the gritty dirt path. The girl headed in what she thought would be the right direction.

She walked for some time. Not really knowing how much time passed and in what direction she was going. The beating remained steady. In fact, she thought it might be getting louder. The canopy of trees did not become any less dense. The underbrush increased and the girl had to start climbing over logs and bushes. The beating rang louder in her ear, she winced and covered it with one hand. What was that? A smell of rancid rot snaked her senses. The girl stepped backward her eyes watering. She pushed forward through the stench. She wanted to know if there was some clue that lay ahead.

In the darkness of the trees, she made out the outline of a small cabin ahead. She hurried onward toward it. Approaching it cautiously, she opened the door. The girl covered her ears with both hands now, while breathing through her mouth. The noise of the beating became overwhelming. She saw a pool of crimson on the floor. On her tip toes, she side stepped this and then looked up. There on the wall written in blood it said, “You are Viola”. Underneath on a wooden table was a small black velvet box. The girl opened it with a steady hand. Inside was a beating heart. She remembered everything.


To be continued…

Random Poetry

I found these poems in an old notebook of mine. I haven’t seen them in many years. I thought I would share them. They were intriguing. I was also going through a very difficult time. So they seem to have a theme. Anyway, enjoy.



The noise in my head is humming again

stuck in neutral

b b b

e e e

e e e

p p p

the way I see it

I can hit the gas,

but I ricochet off of walls

Of repetition.

A ruthless red that bleeds these ideas

until they are dead.

If only escape were possible

but it is bumper to bumper

until they merge, I’m stuck

in traffic.


too many feelings

they’re bleeding out of me

a puddle is forming on the floor

code blue – the noise is unbearable

mouth to mouth 1-2-3, 1-2-3,

breathe in  (breathe out)

interrupted again

if I live, these thoughts won’t leave

cannot separate

rage burns alive

must find rest

tip toe, tip toe – back to reality



walking blindly into more bad news

singing deafly into your nightmares

run head-on into these realities

only to dream away your truths

Walk away

Walk away

don’t you cry

but I will die

cannot speak my failures

repeat repeat repeat repeat

breathing rainbows in the sky, fade

cannot speak my failures anymore: was a lie

walk away

walk away

don’t you cry

but I will die


The Park pt. 1

I always wanted to fly; so that way when things got real bad I could just push open my windows, hop on the ledge, sprinkle on my fairy dust, think happy thoughts and fly off to Neverland with Peter Pan. But, this is reality and stuff like that never happens. I’d also have to have happy thoughts, and I can never think of none. I always pray that maybe Peter is out there, listening, and one day come whisk me away. ‘Cause I know somewhere fairy tales do come true, and I’ll get mine some day. Mama calls all my stories bottle dreams. She says I should put ’em in a bottle cause they ain’t never commin’ true. Maybe she’s right, but I still got hope.

“Evy, get your right side of a bottom down here before I pop it one good!”

“Uh oh.” I tried to figure out what I had done now to make Mama upset. But, most of the time I hadn’t done nothin’. She was just good and angry. I think it was ’cause Pop left her when she had me and Mary, that’s my twin. Now she’s just forever angry, but I dunno why, she met Donny. He took her in, even with two babies. Although, he’s awful angry too. I think their just mad at each other, ‘course didn’t stop ’em from having two kids.

I fumbled down the hall, going slow, to delay yellin’ as much as possible. It only takes about ten seconds to walk from our rooms to the main room, seein’  as our trailer’s ’bout as big as my two feet. There wasn’t much to delay. I approached the livin’ area, my mama was sittin’ on our couch eatin’ some chips and trying to tune into the one or two stations we could get on our little box of a TV.

“Evy where is Mary?” It wasn’t really a question. Mama didn’t ask questions. She just continued talking and you didn’t interrupt. “I haven’t seen her for hours. You need to get dinner cooked. Go and get her. If you aren’t back in five minutes, I’ll tan both your hides.” She didn’t look up from her television program. I walked away.

I was always getting the belt ’cause of Mary. She was a trouble maker. The trouble was, she always went out with out tellin’. Then I could never find her. I slipped on my sandals sittin’ by the door and went out to look for her.  Her and the other trailer kids was always startin’ trouble out in the fields behind our park. Unless you liked sittin’ out on your plastic chair in some dirt and starin’ at neighbors there wasn’t nothin’ to do in the park. They usually stole fruit or was lettin’ the chickens loose.

I heard laughter commin’ from the wheat field. It was followed by snorting and the sounds of pounding hooves. “Perfect,” I thought, “They let loose the cows.” Mr. Parker, the farmer who grew wheat out in the far field also had four dairy cows that he kept. They must have been chasing them back through the fields. I followed the noises till I saw Mary with Willie, Karen, Leesy and trailin behind her was little Donny Jr. “Mary! Come on Mama wants you home now to make supper. And, Little Donny is with you, come on you know better.”

“We were just havin’ some fun, I’m commin’.” She said goodbye to our friends as they continued chasing the cows into the other fields.

“Mary you know better. I don’t care if you wanna get the daylights knocked out of you by one of the cows, but Donny Jr. is only five. He could get seriously hurt.” I eyed Donny Jr. as he followed us back to the trailer.

“Sorry. I didn’t know he was with me.”

“Don’t tell Mama. Don’t tell her what you was doin’ either. She already skinned us once this week. Plus, if Pop comes home from the bar tonight angry, you know we’ll get it anyway.”

She looked at me with her eyes. The way we did sometimes, understanding each other without talking. As we approached our trailer the wind picked up and the clouds covered the sun.

“I hope there ain’t no tornado.” chimed in Donny Jr.

“Don’t you worry. It ain’t the season. It’s just God talkin’. If you listen carefully you can hear him whisper in your ears,” Mary reassured him.


The circus came to town while Maggie was asleep. A ringmaster stood atop a charcoal colored, oversized bucket in the center ring and shouted, “Come one, come all.” They did. They came from near and far. The people filled the grand stand seating until only one little seat was left way up high above the rest. Tucked back in the corner, where it was impossible to see the ringmaster shouting from his perch in the center.

But, Maggie was asleep. Wildflowers painted across the sky bleeding through clouds. They poured down onto the pirate ships where swashbucklers looked up caught off guard. A mop in one hand, Roger cried for his sword. What were these abominations falling from the melancholy clouds? Maggie cried, “I will save you!” She took the wildflowers, knelt down and dug in the fresh dirt that now covered the non-existent pirate ship. The flowers took hold and grew tall. Maggie looked up to Roger, but he no longer stood scared with a mop and sword. He had left the flowery ship and so did she.

Lions pranced across the circus arena chasing a terrified tamer. He led them dancing through hoops of flame. The audience roared and came to their feet with applause. The lions took little bows one by one; their manes drooped and dragged across the ground. Still, one seat remained empty not a shadow of a person to be seen.

Maggie snored soulfully, but her arm seemed to be missing. She was racing down a speedway. One hand on the steering wheel, the other had been removed from her body. The car whipped around a corner and through a hole into the space continuum. Driving onto a large sapphire space ship that glittered with glass paneling, she skidded to a halt and hopped out of her car. “Captain, the asteroid will collide with us at any moment,” A short man in a turquoise uniform approached Maggie. She gave the order. They would have to self destruct and use the escape pod.

The audience turned to the empty chair. Whispers echoed through the stand,”Where is Maggie?” They said, “Where, where, where…” Clowns took the stage, suits oversized and brightly colored. They clomped in their giant red shoes, gagging and giggling with silly faces. An audience member was chosen for a prop. Into the cannon he was loaded and shot from afar. Plop. He landed in a pool of pudding, vanilla.

The pastures were green as envy. Maggie’s palomino galloped uncontrollably barely touching the wild grasses. She clung to his hair leaning forward as the sunlight streamed across her bare back. They burrowed deep into the earth and she looked at her body which was no longer her own. Her head was attached to a small thorax from which extended six legs. Maggie was suddenly two times as strong as she used to be. “Help us!” Ahead of her, a small pebble was crushing two of her fellow comrades. She loaded the pebble onto her back freeing the miniscule ants, who thanked her profusely.

The circus was leaving town, while Maggie slept. Onto the trucks the lions leapt. Clowns crept quietly into the night. The ringmaster thanked his audience. They clapped and left to near and far. Maggie did not know of the circus. Although they whispered her name, she slept, attached to machines. In a bed soft, with blankets warm. The stillness did not disturb her dreams. Machines sounded. Beep. Beep. Beep. Her mother wept at her side, head in her lap, for her daughter to wake.