An open book, a pair of glasses, a glass of water, an apple, and a yellow fruit on a beige cloth in an outdoor setting.

Poetry Collection

It doesn’t matter whether you are a poetry enthusiast or consider it boring; the words within poetry can be powerful. These three poems connect life experiences with intense imagery to create a potent emotion that anyone can feel.

She didn’t deserve that.

Poor manipulated maiden. Forced

to be a hunted creature, isolated—

on the isle of victimization. Vision of dedicated virtue

brought to knees

that should not be knelt. The original

serpent-eyed woman

with darkened ducts, that

she was jealous of. Wasn’t she?

Athena.

She sanctioned

your song of screams.

She washed away wisdom

where war stands in its place. Your tears

screamed, shaking temple stairs.

Tearing vails.

Punished for Poseidon's penetration. A tyrant god

as slippery and scaley as the snakes on

your scalp. But those statutes

cannot force fornication. And you—

can sanction their song of screams.

For the fear they thought they could fuck out of you is

the catalyst for castration

Literary Fever Dream

A creative spark turned avalanche, runs over itself

so they’ll

type till time runs dry—till

characters break consciousness or till

they are done deciding their fate; they are

as all writers, it is just an outlet for the characters

to speak.

Our fingers bleed before the brain brakes

the unknown plot does not stop

for such injures but

feeds on our mental instability or until

ink-filled veins bleed black

on parchment; remnants of

writers who wrote till

their inspiration left them

but only that reminds them

they were words that they wrote

spilled in a non-comprehendible jumble of

sentence fragments.

Breakaway

Raindrops atop the soft top of my car harbor my deliberating darkness destined for major change. My floundering frontal lobe used to forage to find solace through storms. But simple sounds only drip a corroded call to counseling, then drop articulation to artistry. The continued studies of continuity, how childhood constructs conceptualization became concentrated, putting persistent parody of prose writing on display. Please, bring my perfect prose poetry to the forefront of my brain. I need a clicking keyboard to create fiction, not ridiculed research papers. Barriers of boring scientific sources that caused my creative consensus.