Category Archives: Written from Life

Doll Maker now on Barnes and Noble

My book of poetry, “Doll Maker” is now on the Barnes and Noble website.

 

 "Doll Maker" front cover"Doll Maker" back cover

The Doll Maker is taking women off the street and turning them into dolls before killing them. Will he be caught?

 

You can find it here.

It is also on CreateSpace, Amazon in paperback and on KindlePowell’s Books, and on ebay.

 

My second book of poetry, “Duskhouse Player” is available on Amazon as a paperback and Kindle.

 

"Duskhouse Player" Paperback cover "Duskhouse Player" Kindle Cover

Life is a series of random events laid out by Fate. Poetry is the paintings of her face. Duskhouse Player takes the random parts of life and pulls them out of a hat to give you a different experience in poetry. Its joyful and sorrowful.

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Duskhouse Player

My second book of poetry, Duskhouse Player, has been published through Amazon.

 

 

 

Life is a series of random events laid out by Fate. Poetry is the paintings of her face. Duskhouse Player takes the random parts of life and pulls them out of a hat to give you a different experience in poetry. Its joyful and sorrowful.

 

Purchase the Kindle edition here, and the paperback edition here.

 

 

 


Untitled

I wish there

had been a physical

slap across my face

 

Don’t talk to your Nana

that way! She’s not a dog.

 

Then what am I?

 

A physical pain

assaults me when the shout

comes without warning.

 

If you break that dryer,

you’ll be sorry.

 

I already wished

I wasn’t born.

 


Nest

There once had been nothing

beneath black wings,

flapping with all my might.

No wind today.

 

An egg lays ready to hatch,

but ruffled feathers

have been plucked before

it arrived. No wind, still.

 

When the shell cracks

and falls apart, squished

face has green eyes blinking

against the harsh light

 

and the beak-mouth opens

wide. Shrieks call out. Breeze.

The larger beak-mouth could

not reach for wailing

 

chick, numbed from surgery

and drugs. The one whose movements

were not hindered reached

for the fluff. There is wind today.


Sexual Harassment on the Interwebs

I just wanted to give you a little story of something that happened over the last month.

I made a comment on a Youtube video by Laci Green. She’s a well-known youtuber who runs a series called Sex +. In that series she talks about different sexual subject for each video. The one I commented on was her video about anal sex.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83lo7OqruJI

The comment was me bragging about my husband and our sex life. Another viewer (not going to mention names) decided to proposition me. When I said “no” he continued to pester me, despite the fact that I had said no two time before. My red flag went off. He was sexually harassing me over the internet.

Now, I know what you’re going to say:

“Why didn’t you block him immediately?”

“You should have reported him.”

No. What should happen is when I say “no” he should have backed off. When a woman says “no” it doesn’t mean, come at me honey! I really think Meg from Hercules said it best:

“Well, you know how men are. They think ‘No’ means ‘Yes’ and ‘Get lost’ means ‘Take me, I’m yours.'”

did eventually block and reported him. My husband even emailed him. And that’s what got him to apologize. Not the “no” and not the rants I gave him. I had to be protected by another man before he took me seriously. That’s not right.

That is rape culture, ladies and gentlemen. That right there. And I sincerely hope no other woman comes across him, because he’s a potential rapist.

Note: I can only talk about these experiences from the point of view as a cisgendered white female. If you want to share your own stories, go ahead and do so in the comments below. 

Clements, Ron and John Musker. 1997. Hercules. Film. 2014.


Untitled

The breeze ruffles my hair
like an older sibling,
trying to tease.
The trees dance with leaves,
flitting around on their stems.

Petals from the Sakuras
land at my feet. They
are the rain. I see
why they are honored
every year in Japan.

The snows have passed
away from bright,
yellow light that burns
my eyeballs. I can’t see
the pink downpour.

The Cherry blossom trees’
flowers are gone,
proof that Spring
has come to Roanoke.
Weather be damned.


Pounding

I hear the bear’s heartbeat.

It should be yours.

I’m broken,

Can I be fixed?