Couple Looking for Fun

Poetry, Uncategorized

Two doors down from me,

There is a house:

With flaking paint,

And purple cobwebs.

Where a couple,

Only a few steps away;

Is seeking someone.


They recline,

At the top of my grindr results.


One is bulky,

The other burly,

But I am neither of these things.

I am slim,

Some say petite.

But I am someone;

Perhaps they are seeking me?



This could be the start of something beautiful!

The stuff of dreams.

Short sex,

Uncomfortable walks,

And awkward encounters in the street.

I’ll knock on their door,

Ring the bell;

Can’t let this opportunity slip away.


Here’s a duo,

That I could bring home.

Dazzle my sisters,

Impress my father,

And worry my mom that “little bit”.




Upon further inspection.

They are a couple looking for fun;

On these grounds,

I am disqualified.



I speak of women

Poetry, Uncategorized

I speak of women,

Taught to be shy, meek and modest;

In matters

Concerning their own bodies.

Shamed since birth:

By a country that ought to be ashamed

That its renowned generosity of spirit,

Does not extend to the women of its land.

That its famed hospitality is more concerned,

With strangers

Than women borne of its soil.

Whose roots span generations:

Roots burned black,

By the outrage of those,

Who have no right to outrage.


I speak of women,

Condemned by a religion

That is not their own.

Expected to seek forgiveness,

Between the pews and marble altars:

That leech the warmth of a seemingly;

Compassionate doctrine.

Forced to endure nails of judgement,

Driven into their wombs.

Expected to wear,

Their experiences as rags,

Stitched with a shame,

That should not be theirs.


I speak of women,

Forced to cross a sea of solitude.


To seek the compassion of others.

For their country,

Is suffocating in ambivalence.

Wasting time,

We do not have.


I speak of women,

Dissected in dusty discussions.

That labour over the circumstances,

In which a woman can be trusted.


I speak of women,

Forced to carry their children.

To feel the decay,

Spreading through them.

The infection,

Permeating every pore.

I speak of women,

Who were muted.

By those who refused to listen.

Those guardians only willing,

To consider it an issue;

In the wake,

Of a womans’ death.


I speak of women,

Denied the right to bury their children.

Forced to claw out a patch,

Of Earth;

In which to cast their young.

Denied dignity

And sanctuary

By those who decide to drown another,

Solely to stay afloat.


I speak of women past whose towering strength was toppled by these unjust circumstances.

I speak of women present whose towering strength is being toppled due to these unjust circumstances.

I speak of these women;

So that the towering strength of future women will grow!

That their power will not be challenged by the circumstances thrust upon them.


Sea Glass!

Poetry, Uncategorized

I was a bottle of beer!

My glass;

Stained green with envy,

For the sparkling bodies of others.

My long neck,

Marred by the fingerprints,

Of half-forgotten lovers.

I was sipped,

But never finished.


But never healed


When a fickle lady,

Brought me to the sea.

We sat upon the sharpened rocks,

As she drank deep from me.

She drained me dry,

Drop by drop.

Until I was no more.


She cursed my sour taste;

And stale scent.

Roared of my bitter kiss,

And thin froth.

Then she hurled my fragile body,

Down into the sea.


Borne of foam and fury,

Galloping horses crashed upon me;

And shattered every limb.

Until I was a slave,

To the ocean’s dark whims.

My body was broken;

Skin scarred and slashed.


Over time,

The waves cleansed my mind.

As I fumbled,

And tumbled,

Through that sapphire realm.

Until my edges dulled and softened.


Then the waves washed me up;

On crisp sands.

I found my home;

On distant lands,

Among the pebbles.

People visit with rosy cheeks,

In the Summer weeks.


And now I am sea glass!

Smooth and divine.

People scour the sands,

Searching for treasure;

Searching for me!