I voted -Poem

I voted,

Pride, warmth, joy,

I did something, the system will work,

My vote will count.

But how does it matter when it does not?

Never give up, there is always next time, right.

From one man to the next,

A endless chain of empty promises,

Divided Senates, and Houses, even when they share the same colors.

Give me power, no I have power, no power for you,

I voted,

And I will vote again, and again, till it actually matters.



You Remember?

Do you remember? I remember.

The bitter sting of an adult’s hand

A punishment for a crime you had no concept of

You remember

The things that once were delicious somehow now taste wrong

Like a betrayal of what once was.

I remember


The wanting of wanting

The need to be a part of something

But never able to

Do you remember? Tears?

A sadness indescribable yet real

Something deep within you breaking

And not knowing why.


You and I both remember, mistakes

The pain that comes from embarrassment, humiliation, and shame.

A dropped glass, the wrong words spoken, or even no action at all



I awake in Sonoma.

Robbed of my legs, I was,


                                                                                                             Pissed Off.

But not useless,

Extremely determined.

My mind remains,



And my temper,

Seeking the answers to my queries.

I am not alone,

I will rise, above all challenges,

With the help of my colleagues,

And this flaming wheelchair.

Perry Mason

Show me the truth,

If you cannot-

I’ll show you the truth,

But, what is truth?

Is it, what you see?

Or is it, what I show you.

Defend the innocent.

Whether you’re a, Sulky Girl,

A Drowning Duck, or A Restless Redhead.

If I cannot see the truth,

I will find it.                                                     It is out there.

I will push, pull, and pry,

The truth from the gatekeepers,

That wish to condemn the innocent,

The truth cannot escape me,

Justice is what I represent.

You’re Justice!


A Tap on My Shoulder

A Tap on My Shoulder

I hear it at night, in the distance, it calls to me,
A tapping, a rapping-scrapping of bone, metal, and flesh,
Nothing could. Nothing should. Make that noise.
I roll back my duvet. As I ease my toe down to the naked wooden floor.
Something moves behind the door and from down the drafty hall.
I see.

Should I look or leave it be? I ask myself as it edges near.
I close my eyes. The door opens.
It hurts to, but if I look away it won’t be real,
But I have to, so that it won’t be real.

I hear a noise unbearable, inaudible, clawing at my ears,
Did it speak?
Did it make those noises?

I can feel it, low in my breast,
It cannot speak.
For it has no head.

Did it hurt me?
That cannot be, for it to has no limbs, not a finger, nor a nail to rend,
But then, why is my blood, painted along the lofty vacant walls,
My white nightgown, a bloody shredded mess,
Splayed against a rotting, burnt, wooden floor.

Where am I now?
But in the fading light of my mind I see,
My head is in a glass case,
Set upon a shield adore am I,
Among many trophies of my kind,

Am I really a trophy now?
Madness. Nonsense. Preposterous.
Light fading, limbless, speechless.