deserted now
the house of her youth
hiding places
for spiders
Rain today has stripped the sky of its clouds
I am forced to seek refuge in the pillow
Books and cactus all enveloped in a shroud
Life may well be priced at a dollar per kilo
_____________________
22 August 2024
I lay on pillow throne of lies.
Tolerated all the flings and flies.
pillow next to me
in the gleam of sunrise
without a wrinkle
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Empty words, empty souls , a pillow, a savior,
Like sweet flavor, an anchor much braver,
There to save you..
And what for?
To keep you from sinking deeper
From the images that make them think you're a creeper
A vision of the reaper, a version much cheaper
The scary monster, a creature, the biggest traitor,
Who is there to save you?
Hunting memories, broken legacies, Bodies stacked with lost identities.
Energy drained, dead, just like old batteries.
Broken hearts, shattered souls, like casualties.
Is this supposed to be the remedy?
Finding comfort in the pain,
Seeing you as a burden to contain,
Calling you insane,
Demanding you explain.
Leaving you dumbfounded
The clown in the game with no brain.
Throwing shade,
Wanting you to carry all the weight,
Till you drop,
Fall to the ground, like the rain,
Their words stuck like a blood-colored stain.
A place to turn and release the strain,
Where silence holds what words can't explain
The pillow where everything stays the same.
Early morning is the perfect time to walk the beach,
the cool water licks at my feet.
The soft sand is like walking on a pillow,
pretty seashells yell-pick me up.
My day started off with a bit of heaven on earth.
Machine gun heart riddled with shades of grey.
A mind once sharpened by your own forked tongue.
Lovers' lips part with rumbles of a cannon.
Dew licked satin sheets - the highway to carnal desire.
Silhouettes of freshly washed skin dance in the night.
Passion rising like the souls of the departed.
Where do you sleep after your thirst is quenched?
Where do you go when your high knows no bounds?
Unfiltered needs not being met;
A fire put out before the gasoline burns off.
Passionate nights followed by cool seduction.
A waterfall of your essence coating my tongue.
Decisions made in a moment of yearning.
Your lack of understanding - my constant battle.
Why can't you listen instead of just hear?
I will free my enslaved exuberance,
since you can't be bothered.
Blow out the candle and climb into bed.
One of these days you'll get what you want.
And one of these days I'll learn that I won't.
Pansies purple on my head
Indigo thoughts strongly lead
Little kisses in the whimsical wind
Lavender perfume I bathe in
Onyx hair a kinky cloud
Where your fingers are buried now
This inspires a fuchsia fantasy
Amethyst fire you ignite in me
Love is a sea we be the boat
Kindness and desire keep us afloat
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know.
~ White Rabbit, Jefferson Airplane, Surrealistic Pillow, 1967
I cannot go ask Alice,
for she has fallen down
the white rabbit's rabbit hole.
Deep within sleep's palace
in dream she gives a silver crown
and never pays attention
to the shadow troll.
The shadow holds a golden chalice
filled with wondrous bits from town,
but the bits will surely take a toll.
The bits are made of malice
just like the troll layed down,
and tall or small the white rabbit
takes it all.
Cry if you feel
Very lonely
Don't tell the pain.
Don't hold the tears
Let it go through
Wash away pain.
Feel free to cry
But hide the pain
To selfish men.
Tears are friendly
To pillow case
During night time.
How many dreams,
how many wild and uncompleted schemes,
how many words
and the infant ghosts of poems I will never write
do I leave on my pillow at the end of the night
When darkness seeps through window panes
Like ink through paper, slow and thick
These weighted sorrows, winter rains
I build defenses, brick by brick
Until some comfort still remains
My army grows with every piece
The lumpy one that gran once owned
The clearance finds that bring me peace
The fancy silk I should have loaned
They multiply without release
They guard my edges through the night
These cotton soldiers, stained and worn
Their battle scars still holding tight
To dreams now faded, covers torn
Against the shadows' quiet might
But whispers rustle in their seams
A mutiny is taking shape
These cushioned troops, these stuffed regimes
Are planning quite a grand escape
To drown me in their polyester dreams
-
Pillow Protectors
For all my
pillow protectors’ (the euro ones only) arrogance they are, in their core,
humilitists.
In quilting class (which meets on Zoom),
I followed the directions,
By cutting, pinning, basting, sewing
All the different sections.
I kept up with the teacher
(Which for me is very rare),
So during “show and tell” I had
A project I could share.
With the pillow insert stuffed inside,
I fluffed it all the way
And proudly placed it on the couch,
My hard work on display.
Pillow Talk
You call to me,
To return to your warm embrace.
I've only just left you,
Your marks on my skin, I can trace.
Your softness in my memory,
the hours we've spent tangled together.
Then harsh reality,
Rings loudly in my ears, dreams severed.
Until tonight my sweet,
I'll long for you with my whole heart.
Thank God for the weekend,
For days my BED and I needn't part!
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