borderline crossing

curious and undefined

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All that’s left.

In fear and trembling, destiny’s road perishes.
With courage, horizons come to light.

Is this a question
you ask about hope?
A self-proclamation?

If you had asked me ten years ago, even sporadically scattered in between the months, my answer would have been emphatic: Hope! Rah!

This girl’s sunny disposition has gone hiding, become elusive, buried beneath wings and tears that never dry.  This hope one seeks, in the ransacked heart and poverty-stricken, is beyond the horizon. No rainbow slide can fulfill  such promises.

All that’s left -vacant field
hope disappears
your power absent -dirt mourned.
Life seems meaningless.

I am tired. Just a week ago, the daffodils woke me from a deep slumber. I had hid in a depressed body, unable to move. The garden lay dormant in my mind and its sliding into the abyss once again.

Damn shoreline! Even my speech has become reprehensible! Oh where should I lie to appease these demons. They scratch and claw at the soul’s door. I barricade them as they slip through the cracks. This is war!!!

As easy as it is to create rainbows
a ghostly cemetery presides.
What hope moans from the grave?



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It was a bevy of things
A cluster of thoughts
and the worms coursed through the pages.

The silent smacks
and licking of lips
left no tell-tale signs.

Dog-eared pages
and rabbit trails
make for no happy endings.



What is that feeling i am feeling? Again. 

There are people I need to get out of my life. Im conflicted though. I might miss them and never find them.  Lost to me forever.


Is this my heart that aches? A fever in my head? Symptoms of a mental breakdown? 

I have been busier than usual, spread thin. I tell myself “You were fine before, this time is no different.” Or is it?

Slow down. Regroup. 

I have lost my brother, brother-in-law, my mom, dad, two sisters in 9 years. Now I face my daughter and watch her struggle. The world feels as if it is falling apart. Actually it is.

So why are you forsaking me too? Can you not see the pain inflicted? If i leave you first will i be less heartbroken? 


Do i dare step on the ground? The petals droop as i pass by. I sit in Job’s chair and wail. 

Must i be confined to this misery? Where is the relief? I can’t stand underneath this umbrella any longer!! How will i survive?



The warrior and hero
no longer prick the souls,
the languishing sand
and the ocean’s deafening roar.
What if one could look inside the heart?
Perhaps, perform surgery,
sketchy and primitive,
realize man is surely in need of
hope, faith and love.

The hero houses fire in the belly
the warriors watch the sky,
the earth rumbling
man’s legs turned to jelly.
What if one could find the answers?
Perhaps, in the delicate sounds
a honey bee buzz,
a wren’s mating call
in these, sweetness sweeps the land.



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I wrote this poem, not to demean, which some may find, but rather a reality of what sells and how many won’t admit to the true reality.  Others may see something else in this poem. I am curious.

I had a “friend”, if you could call her that, who lived this life.  This is her poem. 

sister cuts her hair
wisps of waves float in the sink
someone plugs the drain

mascara eye paint
blasted evening torched the bar
girls heavy handed

nail clippings puddled
wrinkles outline the shadows
shake my god-damn hand

garage Jazz band plays
greasy hands under the hood
Flash Mob gets lucky…

Do we see the same images?  J