Doubt Comes (draft)

Doubt Comes at lunchtime.

For thirty minutes

it takes up the space

were food should go.

a persistent climb up

esophagus,

I choke back water.

Keep it down. 

Poisonous it seeps into blood

rattles my hands.

rings my drums.

rangles both lungs

Sleep doubt says.

so, heart slows

Sleep.

eyes fall on soft

pillowed

cheek.

No.

 

 

 

 

For thirty years

doubt take up the space

were confidence should have gone.

 

Burnt (2013)

I hold the ember in the cup of my hands
the uselessly toiling fingers are- Kindling.

No longer able to beat out
rhythms on an unyielding earth-

I hear the crackle of the fire
consuming my bones.

Keep the children warm,
feed them my ashes.

 

*Note: Originally posted on my deviantart in 2013

Satiated Sleep (help me sigh)

Give me a reason to stay awake.

Pour secrets into my ears,

run your nails along the peaks-

and valleys of my breast.

Steal my breaths between stories,

locate my pulse by the birthmark on my neck.

Keep my eyes open, help me

scatter poetry on bedsheets-

keep the rhythm of recitation

with the undulating of your hips.

Sigh, unravel, and spool into me.

Curl around my body, kiss each eye

closed. Then,

then I can sleep.

 

 

My Fair Maiden

the_sacrifice_by_tasldaed-d63d7r3
The maiden did not want to die, but her death would ensure a good harvest.She bites her tongue, a plea for help buried beneath her lips. Even in death she is beautiful, yet her beauty saves her not from being sacrificed- for human greed…for progress.

 

April 28, 2013

This is an original photo I took of my cousin, to which I then edited to varying levels of success. This piece was inspired by the fairy tale tradition of the sacrificial maiden. It always bothered me how peaceful they seemed to be the currency for someone else’s happily ever after.

 

Note: this picture was originally posted on my deviantart under the name TaslDaed.

For the Want of Nothing (draft)

I have atrophied in these sheets.

They cling to me,

sweat gathers in sickness

and in health I know nothing but want.

Yet, need lingers in the door

beckons, but does not come forth.

My dreams run rampant like pixies;

they are splashes of imaginary colour ,

no paper can hold them.

Outside the barren tree branches lacked the strength

to hold onto their colourful autumn,

I lack the strength (will) to even manifest a fall,

So, I’ve fallen into a bed of leaves

(which I did not rake)

Please. Decompose this body,

feed the corpse to the worms-

this is the only way I know to celebrate a harvest.

A Plea to the Silent (edit)

1. A life unlived is not unique.

2. What things keep you from being?

3. Your words are bullets, so speak.

 

4. Could charity save a soul?

5.  Save sinful eyes from seeing?

6. A life unlived is not unique.

 

7.  Pastor, knows how to console,

8.  your empty hums agreeing,

9.  his words are bullets, so speak.

 

10.His righteousness takes a toll,

11. good deeds need guaranteeing,

12. a life unlived is not unique.

 

13. A charlatan wants control-

14. “It’s for your own wellbeing!”

15. These words are bullets, so speak.

 

16. Hatred is an armed pistole,

17. scared are the ones decreeing:

18. “A life unlived is not unique!”

19.  Their words are bullets, so speak.