“Innocent”

Innocent eyes
forever frozen
glassine diamonds
in noonday sun.

Innocent songs
forever silenced
musical genius
in noonday quelled.

Innocent joys
forever gone
bejeweled happiness
in noonday mourns.

Innocent childhood
forever gone
hope for the future
slaughtered
in noonday’s sun.

BSM
2014

“Flee”

The cry lingers
long after life
flees into night
ever to echo
to ricochet
in the soul
flees into night
the cry lingers

BSM
2014

“Desert Song”

The silence deafens
civilization’s melody gone
calm and silent
the dawn before the storm
hell-hot rages unfurled
sands run red screams
theirs, yours, mine
civilization’s melody gone
the silence deafens.

BSM
2014

Cicada Serenade

At sunset’s eve
the echo of war’s song
rata-tat-tat
ba-boom
distanct echos
surrounding all
night’s death song
in two-part harmony.

BSM
2013

“Pasta”

Whipping
incestuous fork
around noodles
sauces ecstacy.

BSM
2014

“The Mask”

This image of me, the me you see
a woman of strength
of character and maturity
This woman, this image
it is not of me.
It is a mask
created in your mind
of what you think,
you hope,
you tolerate me to be.
The real me you do not see
the real me cringes
in the face of responsibilities
the real me is afraid of reality
the real me is a coward,
a pacifist at heart
No, I am not the
Mighty Red Warrior
your heart has painted me to be
I am not the sainted soldier
I am merely what Creator
made me to be…
I am ME.

BSM
2014

Images of Me

I cannot be this image
this person you’ve painted me to be
I cannot be this image
of brave warrior woman
when inside my soul cries
I cannot be this image
of stoic adulthood laden with responsibility
when inside my soul longs to escape
I cannot be this image
anymore than I can be the tree in the forest
or the baby fawn playing in the meadow
I cannot be this image
this person you’ve painted me to be.

BSM
2014

“IED”

Tangled, mangled montage
shattered glass blood
seaping cracks bones
screaming terror.

Images of pain
too great to bear
scattered like the sands
amid a storm.

BSM
2014

“Withing the Sword”

The sword
strong, brave, sharp
forged in blood ore
hard, volcanic slag
worthless
smelted, melted
molded in form
the sword
within the stone.

BSM
2014

Stolen art journal…

This past weekend, I attended an event with my family. Somehow, my art journal/sketchbook sprouted legs and went home with someone else against it’s free will. It’s really sucky, because if the person who took the book had only asked, I would have given them any or all of the sketches there. I just can’t believe the disrespect… and this, out of those who say they are family. Sigh…just goes to show that the one people you should be able to trust, you can’t.

So, I’m without a sketchbook/art journal at the moment. Which also means that I have to sit out this week, and maybe next week’s art therapy sessions for which a sketchbook/art journal is a requirement for attendance. I really enjoy this group and find it immensely helpful. sigh… feeling really, seriously discouraged at the moment.

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