love song for God my creator

In my darker moments

it times of anxiety and despair

In my loneliness

exhausted anguish

My God remembers me

if He does with the birds

that land in the trees

So He does

He does with me

In the nights that get to quiet

when my soul cries for steadiness


My spirit reaches

the deep to the deep

Trust me

with your time

your gifts

your loves

your hopes dreams or just wish

the authorities

and darkness of this world

can never hold my kind of free

I sit in the hands of my creator

who has never forgotten me

The angers stirring their own kinds of war

shall not phase me

I take no part in Babylons whore

For I know who has made me

what He’s given me

and how He’s saved me

The chess pieces playing their turns

beckon for my hand

both sides revealing in part

while each player hides their own monsters

all players darkened in their hearts

shells of people

inhabited by what they’ve sold out for

Redefining their own creations

and natural rules about life

calling love and tolerance

what I call confusions and strife

distracting with talks about self made stars

and feelings and pseudo realities

Like I should be impressed..

But I’m a woman

human created by God

I’m no part of the game anymore

Resettling ,breathing in

My peace

My free

I trust my creator

with me

“do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread.”-Isaiah 8:12

Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near.Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.¬†Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.”-Phillipians 4:5-9




Keep Your Alive

Taking time and time taking me

clinging so hard to what just wants to be free

knew I couldn’t hold on forever

but we’re never ready to let go

even when we say we are

even when we plan the parting

So I opened gifts given by associations

and sat in the shadows cast by memories

felt sparkles filling those hollows

like the feelings diamonds have

when the light hits their faces

That burning and life says

keep your alive, alive

keep your shine, shining

see that, see that

that power in you

that sparkle that sparkles

its so so sweet

where magic and intentions

something about being alive and just being meet.

Sitting in the leftover of eternal memory

Feeling the gifts that memories bring

hearing anecdotes and inflections

of voices and conversations

bringing at the right moments

lessons and times

that were yours and were mine

no matter what the explanations

no matter the write offs

or miscommunication

some things can’t be undone

and some things shouldn’t be

Remembering the sparkle

starts to shine in the void

like the feelings diamonds have

when the light hits their faces

That burning and life says

keep your alive, alive

keep your shine, shining

see that, see that

that power in you

that sparkle that sparkles

its so so sweet

it’s yours to keep




and She woke at some five in the morning
realizing the personal loss

those conversations that could never be had

with someone who would never understand

whether drunk or sober

heavy or light

angry or stable

left or right

in those tears of unwinding

And fierce cries in the night

From repressed visions

And liberated art shows for one man

whether plays of the sexes

or psychological unties

Boundaries we cross

Sounds of Breaking free

Sounds of Breaking time

Either way

She was never going to hear them again

so the mare stares at her old gateways
trying to decide

should she just run free alone

or go back to rails

and security

knowing those times and memories

will never be the forever

that set her free

he that opened her gate…man

he let her be
he set her free

then he left her alone
to tame her own fires

and be her own song

and she woke at some five in the morning
feeling that loss

and who would understand

except that type of woman

to that kind of man

and only the tears that cry for no reasons
running traces that burn

explanations that explain
but never learn

so the mare stares at her old gateways
trying to decide

whether to keep running

or to hide

To All the Men I’ve Loved

To all the men I’ve loved. Because love is a complex things and there are many different levels, or kinds of love.

To my father, my first love. Thank you for calling me a princess so I’ve never forgotten my place in the world. Thank you for passing on your genes of being hard headed and stubborn, which has gotten me far in this world as a single female. Thank you for making me paranoid, yes even that thing that many may fault their parents for, I thank you for making me paranoid about the intentions of men. I know for a fact it has kept me in check and superseded what could have been fatal attractions. Everyone has dad issues, or parent issues, but overall…you were one of the good ones. Even with your issues. I miss you.

To my Grandfather. The only Grandfather I knew. Thank you for your dramatic, impromptu and inappropriate humor. For your debonair suave. For your love of reading, which was passed on to my mother. For your switch turn anger that scared me to death as a child, yet I recognize in men now and wont tolerate. Thank you for doting on my grandmother and for epitomizing all that is great in young to old sweethearts. Thank you for demonstrating  in your family, the art of gifting. Miss you, Grandaddy.

To my favorite uncles on both sides of the family. To my uncle on my dads side, with your righteous anger that actually was wholeheartedly unrighteous and I would never have actually agreed with you on, man you had tenacity. Thanks for being proactive in researching genealogy, I’m inspired to do that with the other side of the family. I always admired the nieces that came from you, who led their lives in such a strong manner. You may have had your angering prejudices. Your biases and weaknesses to and for the opposite sex, but to me you were a veteran and older bad boy of the family. Maybe the archetype of men I loved in the future. And your carpentry skills, why don’t men create anymore? I miss you too.

To my favorite uncle on my mothers side, my uncle who played with me as a toddler, under tables. Who did magic tricks with me and my brothers until we were old enough to know better but you made it so convincing, thanks for always being magical. For being cool and for being the humble favorite. I’m forever scarred and ruined by men with motor oil under their fingers…Who love to get in engines and see how they work. Who can fix the car or tell you whats wrong with it. Yeah, I see you in everyday mechanics. Whenever I see them.

To my second Uncle on my mothers side. Thanks for caring enough to tell the truth. Because you know you are right. Because you know the facts. Because you love to research. Because you care. Thanks for being suspicious and inquisitive. Thanks for making me question everything.

You two are the standard I hold all men to.

To my ex husband. You got me at a very green age. You were older and seemed so much more experienced and educated. You weren’t. You just seemed that way. Ultimately you were just as green as I. You taught me to be tougher than I should have had to be, You taught me to see when I was being lied to. You taught me to spot an insecure man, who despite being talented, would never allow himself to reach very far. You taught me to take what all the other men had taught me and use it. I had to, in order to mentally survive you. I may be fifty percent of why we failed, but I don’t miss you.

To my pastor and stepfather. Thank you for showing me that there are educated men who admire women physically and mentally. Who want their partners to excel in life and succeed in their dreams. Thank you for the counseling and advice, and guidance. I may not be getting my Masters if it were not for you.

To my best friend. Thanks for proving that yes, a woman can sleep in the room next to a man a that man not try to jump her bones. Thank you for being present and willing to help in so many situations. Thank you for seeing me at my worst. Thank you for the willingness to attempt to be a balanced view point. At your worst and your best you have always been consistent. I owe my best self to you. One day I might be able to give that.

To the man who saw what no one else would call out. The lover to the wild in me, thank you for giving me the space to run free. Thank you for making me speak my own thoughts and teaching me how to articulate my own mind and need. Thank you for letting me in your world and for coming into mine. Thank you for honoring our disagreements and for touching me so deeply. There is nothing I will ever write that I cannot thank you for. Because you were the first man to call me a writer. I love you, I miss you. Thank you ..
Thank you all.



Born Male

Men in the desert
white privelaged racist

men on wall street
with their white privelaged money
women play victim and suffer

and march and cry and make a lot of money
at the expense of some white privelaged male

and the guity men keep repenting

for the sin of how they were born

can’t change who you are

but you can sure pay for it

pay for it all your life

Riots and rebellion

and disregard for life

trashed respnsibility
its no ones fault really

unless you are a privelaged male unseen
hey you werent even around
but that is what they believe
and the guilty men keep repenting
for the sin of being born male

cant help it baby
but you can change the world

and no matter how much you change it

and no matter how much you pay

you are still gonna be a privelaged male

maybe one day it wont be this way
cant pay your way out

cant give enough to charity

cant give enough to the right party

and weild enough anger for the all the different rights out there

there are still too many of you takin up too much space

white privelaged male

he shaves down the parts of himself
injects some silicone

and airbrushes himself to an illusion

making himself smaller

pays a lot of money and walks a little taller

in America you can be whatever you want
for the right price and sympathy
no one will tell you truth
in all this madness and rhetorical abuse
they hate men unless they act like women

and they hate women if they act like themselves
so lets make a whole a new distraction and pretend
and some pretends you cant walk away from

and no one dares say he is white privelaged male
maybe that only sometimes applies

sometimes when it’s necessary
to drown out questions
and project political lies

but no matter how you hack it baby

you can’t change who you are
but you can pay for it
guess you’ll be paying you whole life

One Day

Like a bad habit
or a good one

Like a feint light

that the moths find

a heat that could never stay

but the flames found it


Everything gets its time
Everything gets its place

I’m gonna meet you one day
one day

kind of meeting
that’s gonna go away

like cigarettes and wine

I’ve got to give you up
one day
one day

parts of this is just

part of something else

and in some parts
something might always be

things we do
when things to do run free

and this free man

got a part of me

and parts of us

are gonna be parts that stay
and parts that leave

yeah like cigarettes and wine

burn like an addict

and stay like a sweet

something stays

and something leaves

in our little story
that will just keep telling
just in different ways

playing on that play

and see how it plays
shot to the senses
when the senses

want to make sense

and have no masks
in our world that pretends

I’m gonna meet you one day

everything gets it’s time

everything get’s its space

like cigarettes and wine

we gotta leave it one day

one day
it’s always one day


Rough hands gentle
In the cold he’s so warm
Rough edge voice
In the quiet he’s so calm
Takes my want
And let’s the woman run free
Burns with fire
And runs with the woman in me
My man holds me like I’m woman
Yes my man holds me
Like a man
And talks to me like a friend
Gotta get under this mess
Like God sees under under the masks
And like a beloved to a beloved
Seeing through the smoke
Right to the flame
My man holds me like I’m woman
My mine holds me like a man
Talks to me like friend
In quiet rhymes
Behind the storms
They make in these troubled times
My man
When he is mine
And things we can’t explain
maybe only makes sense unexplained
who can describe
the smell of color
or the sounds of fire on rain
and who can give heart
like the listening soul
rough and rugged
my man
tenders solace
my man
my man when he is mine