Sunday, December 09, 2012



We are a passionate movie scene
A desire.. man made
It’s not supposed to be like this
You make me feel so low, worthless, desperate
Then say with your eyes
baby give me a kiss
It’s rusty..
there are sparks flying
from the pieces that grind,
& roll over each other
No longer fitting together
These words fall silently from my lips
Before I grab a hold of you
It’s uncontrollable
The way we touch
We are parts of this machine
Squeaking and screeching
Uncared for
we’ve taken it for granted
Now, it is just used to doing
what it does
We are outdated
You no longer take me on dates
It’s broken,
And we can’t let go
Because somehow this beaten up machine
Still moves

Monday, November 12, 2012

Beauty and the Dragon

We burnt the place down
Shook up the room 
Now, were lying in the aftermath of a lit match
against spontaneous, alcohol-infused passion

This room appears to be a battlefield
A slayed a dragon sleeps next to me
I lay clutching my sword
He snores, sighing, dead to the world
He’s very ordinary, common-
with his scruffy face and squishy love handles
My wide, curious pupils watch him
in the dark as his stomach rises up and down

Through these amber eyes he is mystical
My arms stretch longing to touch the ceiling 
In this bed that’s like a cloud 
I soar curiously into the darkness of these walls
like navigating the night sky
feeling as if the stars were tickling me
while I fly over a battlefield of firey dreams

Saturday, October 13, 2012


I want to reinvent myself,
color my hair
then cut it all off,
get a blond wig with black streaks,
and live the life of a freak
a few days a week.

Imma remix myself
be more lusciously,
emotionally tolerable,
look even hotter in a t-shirt,
find a man who is dangerously irresistible,
and be more aggressive
and vulgar with the fellas

I’m rewiring my connections,
masquerading around
with 6 different masks
in my back pocket,
experimenting with voodoo,
and admitting that I’m hot for dreadlocks.
I am NEW…
Making a vow to be fearless,
more attentive,
more intuitive,
I will breathe each breath
like it’s sacred H20,
look deeper into the eyes of others,
wash away the anxiety,
regrets, & phobias,
get a psychic reading
ask for an exorcism,
bow to the gods
and start anew.

Friday, August 31, 2012

We love the fire

I walk over the last of our spilled gasoline.
You love me when you're setting fires.
My nude stilettos are resistant to your matches
and I am untouched.
Addicted, we are each other’s explosive obsession.

We are broken and engaged
in a battle. A fight to the death…
I take blow for blow,
determined to walk away alive
with a heart BEAT..BeAt.. BeaT.. beat

Your remarks are flaming arrows,
pointed and released with such precision
from behind a stare of passionate intention-
I swallow them and spit them back
It’s a very slow, voluntary death-by fire.

We take this hellish match
of gladiators to a private room.
Grabbing your neck
you’ve got me by the hair
in the same dead bed of lost futures and dreams

We are a flammable couple-
Tumultuous, angry, and vicious
Everything I vowed not to be
in a Mr. and Mrs. Smith type relationship
except you’re no Brad Pitt….

I can no longer walk through this heat
just to prove my heart to you-
Burned. Drained.
There are permanent markings, hieroglyphics
left on the walls of my interior.
The scars of a love gone wrong

I tempt you…
Light the matches of my darkness
and you will find a scorned animal seething.
Hissing, as I anticipate your presence
with heightened senses refusing to be defeated.

You look into my eyes,
kiss me with your teeth,
it's hot
and the battle recommences….

Thursday, August 23, 2012

A page from Reckless...

A light grew in my chest and slowly
ate away at my cold exterior.
My vampire skin cracked for weeks,
secreting strange liquids
from my broken crevices ..

I dripped them all around town,
all on my friends,
all naked with you in bed
and turned you off.

Shattered open,
I’m here-
making new promises to myself.

My feelings walk bare-naked in public,
dancing alone in a crowd
to a sexy techno song.

I hang up my innocent,
good girl hats-
the ones with the polka dots and hearts
and trade them in for outlandish,
badass, purple hair extensions.

Today I’m flying with all my strength,
self-healing powers,
and free loving nature,
like a precious bird
with diamond encrusted wings
and golden feathers.

Gazebo Summer Reading Series photos

Thanks and love to friends and family who came out to support my work! 


Cut to Grow

You walked around with a sword-
Your name engraved, as you swung / /
A rugged man
with a sea of opportunity.

Inside you was a little boy
playing pirates
capturing me,
a princess with a queen’s future.

You sung love songs to me
as you swung slashing away
the layers over my heart.

The days passed slow
as you whispered
foreign words into my dark cell
at the ship's bottom.

Bringing me up,
we’d walk to the end of the plank
and you swung,
taking me down, down, down....

A slow torture-
hour by hour-
limb by limb
fell to the floor

Here and now I am
only eyes tearing up
seeing you bare:
no costumes or lies

Clear vision sees
that you and I
were rotten
from the start

I move it to my memory
as lesson in love.
Cut down, but not gone
I’m left with eyes
to water my heart
and grow, grow, grow....

Saturday, April 07, 2012

Dream Write Now

Aside from the excitement I am feeling with the anticipation of the publication of Reckless, I am feeling especially lucky to be supported by my friends at Dream Write Now. The Dream Write Now site has a wonderful vision and has been working to share the arts for the last 2 years. There can only be so much more beautiful art to be shared with the world in the future. Cheers DWN!

Monday, April 02, 2012

Reckless: Available soon!

Reckless, my second collection of poetry, will soon be released. This is a poetic chronicle of love affairs. Some of these detailed encounters can be extremely hot and steamy, while others are sensual and romantic. As a whole the poems make up a heavy and raw account of female sexuality and expression of the heart.

Reckless is a woman with passion, exhibiting innate desire. Reckless is a woman who takes chances and sets herself free. Reckless is the shedding of perfection and fear.

This collection is a true celebration of sexuality, romances, loves, and secret desires.

Click here to check out an interview for my first book, Like a Fairy in Love, at Dream Write Now.

Stay tuned for the official release!

Friday, February 24, 2012

Riding Coasters

I'm in your amusement park riding all the coasters.
Rolling.. Clack. Clack. Clack.. Click. Clack..
Climbing to the tippy top..

There’s a sudden hush
followed by a shriek from a woman
with long rugged kinky hair and an orange suntan.

The wind is absent and time suddenly seems paused,
but still fizzles like a drop of ice water
on the blacktop under a heavy August sun.

I hear your voice as I descend.
Your promises tickle my ears with the wind.

At every turn you grab my stomach
in your hands and shake it up
as I twist and flip upside down.

When I scream mercy, you cry out
“you’re wicked,”
you are now the victim, and threaten to cut my harness.

After released I seemingly run free,
stuck in this day, my heart tick tocking in a theme park
with fun house mirrors, clocks, and clowns.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012


My love runs deep
channeling through the longest veins
rooted at my hearts center.
It's a very red canal
with smooth green stones at its bottom,
pouring into a purple bay of goldfish and
skinny dippers blowing bubbles
with there underwater make-out sessions.

I feel the bubbles in my chest
remembering your chest,
bare against my ticklish skin.

I’m rooted…In my dreams…
In the between the distractions.
I’m rooted at the bottom of the bay
by a strand of bumpy, dark green seaweed
pulling at my floating emotions
with the rising and falling tide.
It’s was real.
It is real now
how I can reel the sensations
in from the deep waters of a time past.
When I close my eyes
I can smell the imperfect waters
Scents of seaweed, boat fuel, and clams fill my nose.

This bay breathes breaths,
bubbles of loaded air,
like messages in bottles down my esophagus.
This memory chamber.
Reliving the lips blowing bubbles inside me.
Forever kissing you underwater.

Photo: Things about love

Friday, February 10, 2012



Sunk your sharp teeth in
And told me how good they felt inside
I thought he should take them out
But the pain was satisfying
My lower back twitched,
as if I was possessed,
Striking the hard floor
Then jolting up and coming to an abrupt stop
Before striking again
You found me dressed in a buttoned-up cartigan
The scent of your venom secretes from my pours
I smell it, pressing my nose to my forearms
You brought me back to life
In the death of a sexually rejected,
insecure girlfriend.
I look in the mirror
in this sexy hotel room and I see
red, erotic scenes in my eyes
My hair untamed
Lips so seductive
I pucker at myself in the mirror
Watching your bare sparkling skin in the background

Photo credit:

Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Wonderings of a Wonder Woman

In the air I smelled your scent
Floating among the clouds
Never imagined I’d be here
Falling fast
Leaving my imprints, like bullet holes
through love clouds
My arms are flexed,
Using my instincts to ward off all evil
Looking for civilians to shield from the pain of the world
I am stronger now that you left me to fight
the villains of the underworld,
the demons that spoiled our romantic, heroic fantasies
While you hide among the stars searching for answers
You remember how you got there..
Thinking yourself a hostage in our comic book-like partnership
My sources tell me you are one of many Supermans
Gallivanting around in your flashy costume
You played the part well, but you never wondered
I’d be too much woman for your superness to keep a hold of
Tonight I took refuge among the creatures of the jungle
Searching for the nature of the animal world
Wonder woman in all her wonderings
Never really believed she’d find her superman

Photo credit:

Monday, January 23, 2012

Painting red

I keep painting my nails red..
Red is love.
Red is Sacrifice.
Red is the color I see
When my heart breaks
And the red falls dull in the shimmery paint
Red because I’ve been driven mad
Red for the imperfections in my kiss
Red for the words you’d like to eliminate
from my conversation
Red paint for good luck
Red for the Chinese New Year
Red is the dragon I imagine blowing flames
My heart, I imagine red, like a fool for love
Wearing my heart red on my fingers and toes
Swinging and wiggling my free-loving self
Red as red can be
Red on my face
Embarrassed that I confessed my love
Into the cold, winter air
Later to warm up my red hands
Painting, painfully waiting

Born of Roses & Scorpions (From my next book, Reckless, coming soon..)

Your Scorpio seductive
potions nurtured
My Libra baby bird feathers
showing me the fantasies
and magic powers
of being a woman.

My mother painted her lips red
with a red rose colored lipstick
attracting the darkest scorpions
spawned deep
in the souls
of men young and old.

Off her red lips
songbirds pranced
after flying from
the vines of her vocals.
In those songs, a baby bird,
saw the curves of the woman
I’d one day see in the mirror.
It was my mother...
only with a few exotic roots
She is a woman
with darker features.

The birds sung my heart
to sleep many nights
and carried me to places
where I was a sacred princess
treasured by a kingdom
of knights and maidens.
Her songs planted seeds
that would only grow
until much later,
flowering into wild
passion flowers

In bed I lay,
a rare bird,
naked with a sexy warrior.
Gazing into his rough skin
Thinking of where I came from...
I picture a beautiful red rose
in a romance with an onyx scorpion

Sunday, January 22, 2012

MAKING HISTORY (a page from, my new collection of poems, Reckless..coming soon..)

Looking around the room
I took notice of the artifacts
that define our era
and think of us as a part of the history of now;
We are creating an atom of eternity,
a sexy 21st century
love affair
with all the markings of its time

When you touch my naked face to your lips
I wonder if I could’ve been more passionate in past lifetimes,
had I lived without
all our conveniences and luxuries
This could be all we know or an illusion,
this free-loving feeling that twists
my thoughts
all the while bound and tied down
by exotic and diverse things in this city
like lace ties and handcuffs

You’re mine with the press of a button,
a click, or a text
Its modern sorcery
We are equally objectified,
Changing clothes,
Wearing costumes for each other
quickly becoming just another device
like my digital camera and cell phone
I look into your body language searching for the possibility of camouflaged romance,
trying my hardest to see traces of it
like an optical illusion
in the lines of your flexed arms

Photo Credit: Calvin Klein

Saturday, January 21, 2012


I stroke the letters of these sweet syllables as I erect the sleeping
prose Until it comes to life... These words in my head were seeds
planted under the richest earth...soiled under sheets of smudged
paper that smell of sex and liquor.

Words from a lover are the Word for a hopeless romantic libra.
The heavy ones cause my scales to tip. I RoCk uNbAlAnCeD.
But finally find equilibrium
when I slam a pen to a free flying strip of paper.

Prose, a colored feather, I weave into my free flying hair that
bends and swirls where it wants when it wants to do it. An extension
of myself. A medium for heightened senses. A release from the
confines of a tightly bounded hair tie.

Roses without thorns may not be roses at all, but impostures of
a sort and far more dangerous. The natural ones are often long
stem and wild. I stare at you funny when you hand me a striped
love symbol- naked roses.

You've entered into my greenhouse. And now my imperfections
are showing. Your prompted to examine my nature that looks so
perfect from a distance. A nature sprung from wild seed, lonely
moons, and unpurified water.

Cut at the stem, I'm analyzed through your lens. Under these bright
lights I am revealed, seen as you like, a stranger, a danger to
your health, poison as ivy. I look deep into the mirror, poised, under
vanity lights searching for my natural self.

photo © Sarah Klockars-Clauser
for CC:PublicDomain

Thursday, January 19, 2012


I would have turned up the flame if I knew it was going to burn so slow...
There are no next times, no. Only past times screwing new ones,
but I can let them go-
you know, when the wind takes lit ashes
they look like fireflies in the dark
and I have learned to gladly dance in them.

Photo credit:

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Chocolate Bubbles

My heart makes me a foreigner.

Without language,

I bathe in a tub of strawberry cream
Blowing dark chocolate
bubbles off my palms

dreaming my reality moons away.