Category: Poetry

(This is one of the couple of thousand poems I’ve written about being bipolar.   Out of those thousands, this one is probably the least TMI. This one was an attempt, on my part, to explain why I decided to stop medicating myself.)

I have no more 2 a.m. demons

pushing words through my soul

No madness to create poetry

on sheet after page of escape

No more hours of contemplation or

freedom wrapped between my thighs

Nothing to purge into metaphor

And nothing left to say

My Favorite (A Poem)

Long and Luscious

Slow and slick

Growing Desire

Love and Passion

Light and flicker

You are my favorite sin

(Last night, I had a dream where I saw myself walking down a foggy street in Victorian-era London.  I eventually reached the run-down boarding house where I lived and I stepped inside and it was only as I stepped inside that I realized that in my dream, I was Mary Kelly, the final victim of Jack the Ripper, and that, by stepping into that house, I was essentially walking to my death.  Anyway, needless to say, that was enough to wake me up.

As for the historical Mary Kelly, she was a 25 year-old, redheaded, Irish Catholic, just like me.  She died on November 9th, 1888.  97 years later, I was born on November 9th, 1985.  Mary haunts me because she was so brutally murdered yet her murderer — to the best of our knowledge — was never captured and never punished.  Like far too many women who have failed to live up to the standards of her society, she wasn’t given justice and she’ll never receive it.  Instead, the man (or woman) who victimized her is a household name yet Mary Kelly remains forgotten.

Anyway, spending time thinking about this dream led to me jotting down the words below.)

Mary Kelly

A disengaged mind

Walking dark streets

Preying on us all

Listening for sounds

Of softly muffled cries

Hanging in the air

The dying of the light

You opened Pandora’s Box

You pulled out all I had

I lay on top of my bed

Lost in my sanctuary

The world entered my room

And stared inside of me

These bruises have lasted

now 24 some years just

below the concealment of

skin like an infection so

near eruption they fester

with your words that still

ricochet in my head and

kill my soul

leaving memories

that are like your hands

always there

but never with love

I’ve given you too much blood

Year after year

You have taken pint after pint

Those pints taking all

my iron and protein

Today I can barely walk

White dizziness cloud my eyes

My lungs burn and suffer

Cold, scarred veins sucking

not pushing and my

muscles clench in anger

I scream

awake from a waking sleep

grabbing for something

to grab onto

Trying not to hit the ground

Bleeding away the terror in my legs

Hush little girl she’ll say

It was only a dream

In the beginning I wanted you to think I was beautiful

my earrings

my diamond pendant

the sheer silk panties under

the tight weave of my dress revealing more than it hid

as the flashing warmth of my thigh

in a firm

lonely curve of disdain

brushed against you as we spoke

I wanted to hold

that soft unique quality

of a stranger’s bed after sex

just before the guilt

and the doubts creep into the shared

intimacy of false love

to live for a while in the immortal terror

of our dreams

It was a moment I wanted to savor

but you couldn’t wait

and it was over too quickly for you

With my clothes on the floor

and us against the bed

adjusting our hips

locking out everything but the sensation

With your mouth on the back of my neck

Your chest against my spine

Your breath on my right shoulder

Coming in quick bursts

as my body jerked violently trapped in your arms

So hard that it hurt

As your fingers dug into my flesh

So sharp that I hid my tears

You splashing me with your scent

through the communion of idolatory

The stale air starting to fill my lungs

And I shuddered

With you trapped inside

Shuddering in fiery rapture

My eyes closed shut

as you spread through me

And I wished that time could be forced

To give me an answer

On how to tell you

Why I am what I am

Why I am not what you think

Why I am more than just this

Why you should love me

And I wished you could say

That I am not what I know I am


But it was over too quickly

And the hateful satisfaction on your face told me everything

In a silent voice that spit venom

They come out in droves

Huddle across the room

Swoop in for the kill

Drooling and staring

I’m snarling and glaring

They make me downright uncomfortable

Should have worn a baggy sweater

Vultures circling

Occasionally touching down in the desert

To chew on the rotting carcass of my goodwill

Sometimes telling me I’m beautiful

I’ve got great legs

I’ve got a wonderful smile

I’ve got a hot ass

My kingdom for a fly swatter

Rid me of these annoying pests

Where is the dove in this sky of vultures?

But how I dream at night

How I dream of anything

Sometimes, just to be left alone

To walk down a street

Without honks escaping from passing cars

To sit alone in public

Without being approached by

sex-crazed assholes

Sweet solitude

It’s a myth

Sometimes, I feel like I'm dancing right into a wall.



Alan was my first, the one who claimed the prize

He was older and oh so forbidden

His car was small and oh so claustrophobic

Happy Birthday


Johnny’s the one I taunted for so many years

But whenever we went out, it just bored me to tears

I asked him about bondage and he replied in fear

He’s stoned


Michael called me Pandora and I called him Lestat

The day I met his mother, I wanted to go home

He joined the Marines and he called me on the phone

Gung Ho


James was really skinny and so very tall

The two weeks I spent with him was really quite a ball

But he liked to wear a kilt while hanging out in malls

No thanks


Patrick was a blonde that I led on just for a while

Don’t know how I felt about him but he always smiled

I guess it was convenient cause he didn’t live a mile



Kim’s the one I hope knows I never meant to lie

Don’t know what I was thinking when we gave it a try

I told her I was moving and I very nearly died

Not quite


Tim was the frat boy with the toothpaste smile

A summer lifeguard who never read a book

We were so very cute but his nickname wasn’t worth the look



Antonio was black, he taught me to play pool

Every time I missed a shot, I surrendered a few more rules

I let him win every time, that was pretty cool

I think


David was a darn nice guy who now likes other men

I thank the Lord in Heaven that we’re still friends

He buys a pack of cigarettes and we hang out in the West End

He’s gay


Damon bartended, stripped, and sang and not a whole lot more

He left his car running as he walked me to the door

That made me so very scared, why didn’t he want more?

Who knows?


Doug barely knew me but he worked across the street

When we worked the same night we’d grab a bite to eat

He said I was white trash, he wasn’t very nice to me

Me too


Chris was the best actor I had ever seen

That tattoo on his shoulder blade almost turned me green

He was too polite, he was never obscene

I walked


Dane, baby, why’d you go and break my nose, you liar?

Now the thought of seeing you unnerves me to the wire

Were you the only one who hoped to see me expire?



Robert was drunk and stoned almost constantly

Never took on any great responsibility

Never ate the fruit of knowledge, never saw the tree



Charlie’s a soldier, he’s fighting a war of his own

Dyed his hair blue, defied the norm

He was good in the wintertime because he kept me warm

‘Til spring


Allen flew airplanes, he took me out to eat

We flew out to East Texas, that was pretty neat

He said he was too busy. I got out of my seat

And left


Christy lives down under, she helped me stay alive

We met online and she inspired me to take a dive

She had to leave no matter how much I cried

I’m sorry


I guess I must get on with things although I’m not sure how

Realistic words of wisdom are hard to find now

Despite my constant promises, I’ll always break this vow

No more.

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