Warning: Graphic images illegal street drug useage in house cat.

Red Blood Moon

Red Blood Moon

full until

it becomes

eclipsed into the

Dawn’s morning light.

the light eats away

the darkness of the night.

It ushers in the morning with

secrets beyond our sight.

As the blood red moon

controls the oceans tides

and deep inside our own

liquified minds.

The tug and the pull

until after when

the moon sheds its thick

skin and sneaks

quietly away

vanishes without a whisper

without a word

this theif of our night

is never heard.

Felt yes, but heard never.

She creeps silently away

as her cloak turns the pages

of a beautiful new day.

Ode to Red

Ode to Red-

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

Red is the color
of Anger
of Vanity
of Love
of Lust
of Sex

and all the rest.
love

Red is
the color of a new day
beginning to dawning.

Red is the color
of rubies
of jewels
of revenge
of Power

of kissing

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
and Red is:

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
Each day that we awaken,
we are born anew.
we are struggling
with only
the re-birthing process

like caterpillar to butterfly
Each day we change and become
something re-born, something mighty, something
as large and lonely
as Hope.

Each day we shed our sins
we shed our snakeskins
and begin again with the coming
Dawn

and the color Red.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

All in a name

My name is She who,
walks with animals

and talks like a hyena laughing-
non stop fast paced flutter.

My other name is Girl Trapped beneath mirror.
She seems backwards and semi-self-conscious
this shadow like a plus size diva.

My secret name is spoken best in
murmurs and whispers
as I make it up as I go along,

flying by the seat of my pants.

My last name is merely Poet.
A common and often forgotten word,
once it carried so much weight
but now its barely to be heard…
Poet,Poet,Poet

She who walks with animals, and Girl Trapped beneath mirror
are both one and the same, then there lies a secret name always changing and evolving never to remind the same
my last name is common enough, Poet. There that is everything about me you will ever need to know,
oh that plus the small imperfect fact that sometimes , some days, I am nearly insane.

The Reaping of the Poem-hunter

The reaping of the poem-hunter.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I plow
my minds eye
just in time
to gather together
another
string of words
loosely tied together
into a verse
of poetry.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I re-hearse
in my journal
the pickings are slim
and fare between

greedy fingers, I savor the best ones, for
the pickings later
so I can tuck away
a poem a day
to put into

another collection of printed
verse. The raw, runny, dull stuff
I plant onto cyberspace
like seeds of flowers
hoping that perhaps

the smallest might
grow
some sort of potential
like a diamond in the rough.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I re-hearse
in my journal
the pickings are slim
and fare between.

greedy fingers, I savor the best ones, for
the pickings later
so I can tuck away
a poem a day
to put into a big Jar above my head.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I plow
my minds eye
just in time
to gather together
another
string of words
loosely tied together
into a verse
of poetry.

As a poem hunter I collect
verbs, simple nouns, similes
and metaphors-gather them together
like loosely filled twine
trying to thread the ever-searching needle,
for the perfect rhyme.

Help Wanted: Poets please apply…

I am just tumbling the idea of a collection of poetry of some of my own poems, but also publishing some poetry of some of my http://www.wordpress.com friends. I am unsure of how to go about doing such an anthology? Especially as far as earning any profits…To be fair, I am not looking to cash in on anybody elses’s talents. Instead I like the idea of several of us poets coming together and creating a self published anthology of poetry MORE for self-expression and Self-exposure, publicity if you will….It’s just an idea in the rough.

But I am thinking maybe X amount of poets & 3 poems each + a short auto-bio of each poet and links to other published works or links to poets blog or website…

If this idea appeals to anybody please send me a sample poem and an email introduction to:
sexinthekitchensex@hotmail.com

If I edited this type of book for kindle I would probably price it very low like .99 cents for the ebook.
I’m not too sure if this even interests anybody? But I know some of the poets i follow here have yet to be published. Perhaps being included in an anthology would give them the well needed push to self publish their own stuff.

My proposals is simple-email me a single poem and the first 20 poet’s poems I receive will be asked to be part of this collection. Deadline is whenever I receive 20 entry emails or let’s say the Summer Solstice June 21st Midnight EST. If you are selected-via-I receive 20 poems-I will email those poets ASAP and you will need to submit just 2 more poems and a short auto-bio poet statement.

Well then, let see if there are any fishes biting? Let the Games begin!!

The journey towards forgiveness

I do not usually post blog-style confesionals. I’m much more of a poet, than anything else. In fact in addition to my poetry online, I have been keeping multiple journals at home and handwritten. One is more private confessional journal type enteries and the other is mostly poems, ideas, and sometimes tarot readings I give myself or lists of things to do or lists of music playlists.

HERE…is mostly just where I share poems, unless I am all fired up. Today, I am all fired up and I think its vital to share because it might help others to move forward.

I am all fired up about the notion of forgiveness. In theory, I do believe it is better to forgive even if not forget or forgive ANd forget-whatever works best for you. But in practice I find this to be a slippery slope. i struggle very much on how to forgive, when to forgive and how to let go. Honestly, I hold horrible grudges. And they are horrible in truth because mostly they only serve to hurt me-myself-nobody else.

All that angry righteous high horse b.s. I desperately hold onto-a sense of who iswrong and who is right? Honestly, it does not serve me much any longer-in fact it wears me down, makes me feel guilty and mad, like an angry hornet shook lose from its nest.

so today, I was with my hubby and we were at the bookstore out of nowhere i spotted like the ideal book and he bought it for me with a couple other items. This book is called, “The forgiveness formula: how to let go of your pain and move on with Life.” It was on sale at barnes and nobles-only$6.98-hardcover-by author Kathleen Griffin. @2004.

I am only on pg 16 so far but this book is exactly what i needed to hear at this time. i am in fact blown away.I am just writing about this because forgiveness can be ajourney-a pathwy-towards feeling lighter-less burdened. And in my heart, i realize it is not an easy thing to forgive. That more folks than just myself struggle with it. Holding onto the past so tightly it only distorts your vision of the present moment and it poisons the well of your future happiness. This seems true to me.

Someday I really hope I can learn to forgive, hopefully sooner than later because all this angry i hold deep down inside-it only strangles me-making it harder to breathe making it harder to reign into my sanity. I realize i am not the only sufferer out there but by refusing to allow forgiveness its like picking a scab, bruised and bleeding-the wound will not heal. I know I will not heal either. By the way, I highly reccommend her book-so far its very good.

An altar of belief:

CAM00261

An altar by belief,
stands alone in the north west corner,
of my bedroom.
it is the place onto which,
i allow my beliefs to sit.

every once in a while,
i linger there
lighting three candles,
and say my prayers,
with my heart-
not my lips.

my lips do not seem fit.
to express what my heart
longs and shouts out for;
justice, a good life, an omen
or a sign, to allow
me to practice,

the fine art of allowance and
of course self-acceptance.

magical meditations, covered in mystery.
set the stage for most of human
history.

i have an altar of belief which sits,
upon my north-west corner.
Even if my Gods and Goddesses,
are ancient fairy tales to you…

please respect my beliefs,
as I try to respect yours.
if more folks do not try;
to sway and convert the masses,

think of all the less holy wars,
that would be raging
across many a foreign land.

all it takes is a small slit opening,
into your heart,
and some peace and understanding;
for those who see the world much
differently than you do.

blessings-tidings-mote it be,
hence tied by three.