I’m trying to get back into writing. This is my first attempt in a long time: a Valentine’s Day poem for my boyfriend. I hope he likes it. 😉



We attended the same high school

We barely spoke in class

I was as quiet as a ghoul

You gave all kinds of sass


You swiped right on Tinder

It took me by surprise

My heart was in cinders

Never having luck with other guys


We started to talk

You seemed really nice

I didn’t even balk

Just went ahead and rolled the dice


When finally we met

At that seedy country bar

I saw your skull sweater silhouette

And friendly face from afar


Conversation came easy

You made me laugh

We were both full of whimsy

The picture perfect photograph


Our first date lasted well into the night

Neither of us wanted it to end

Being with you felt so right

I could already tell you were more than a friend


Our relationship has grown

I met your sweet Ivy

The time sure has flown

At least you keep your Pyrex tidy


I hope we’ll be together forever

As permanent as a meaningful tattoo

I promise to be there for you through whatever

That’s why it’s time I say “I love you!”


The Hermit


The Hermit


Wrapped in a cocoon of isolation

Misery is the ideal vacation.

Locked in a vault of fantasy

Living out a deranged destiny.


Blame is perpetually deflected

While responsibility is constantly rejected.

Apologies don’t exist in the bunker

Where distorted memories are the anchor.


Adoration quickly morphs into contempt

Not a soul is exempt.

Safety is not guaranteed within the queendom

Banishment is a welcome freedom.


Pleasure is derived from suffering

Smiles are reduced to nothing.

The trigger is always a conundrum

Followed by a terrifying tantrum.


Decisions must be rash

Contemplation belongs in the trash.

Weakness is not an option

And rejection is a deadly toxin.


A constant demand for affection

Reflects a yearning for connection.

Vulnerabilities are given to vultures

Who turn innocents into lifeless sculptures.


A loving personality is hidden

Behind the steel bars of a prison.

Wallowing in a false escape

Will leave a permanent scrape.


Rectification is still possible,

Though trust is not probable.

No matter how hard you pull away

There is another open doorway.




Loud music and NASCAR races,

Hoodies and BBQ.

Cats named after rock stars

And eyes the deepest shade of blue.

You rode a riding lawnmower to our house

You borrowed all of our tools.

Sometimes you weren’t all there,

With your fast cars, you were never one to follow rules.

You needed a friend

To go to the movies with.

But, people were your biggest fear,

So you spent time with a fifth.

They judged your failures and minimized your successes

You could do no right.

You went to another world

In which day might as well have been the dead of night.

Could we have saved you?

You stayed as long as you could stand for us.

I wish I would have been more understanding,

Pummeling your anxieties to dust.

Everyone said I looked like you

And we were so similar.

With the strength you left behind,

I’ll carry on into the future.

Your memory is all around.

From the shelves you built me

To the house you left me,

You’ll always be our Tony.



I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. At the time, I was really interested in Victorian culture and particularly how horrible life was for women during this era. It is heavily inspired by singer/violinist Emilie Autumn, who is the Queen of all things Victorian. I can’t possibly hide my adoration for her and this poem was written while I listened to her music. My goal here was to blend a dark history with sarcasm and humour. I think humour makes heavy topics tolerable and even entertaining. Tea parties weren’t really all that innocent after all.


Chatter echoed throughout the garden

As afternoon tea prompted women

To spill their innermost thoughts and dreams,

Which husbands could never hear, it seemed.


Clothed in tightly laced corsets that pinched,

Since a woman’s waist looked best when cinched,

These women knew they must look decent

And that breathing was unimportant.


Along with the tea were served muffins

And cherry scones placed in fancy tins,

Which were clearly only there for show

‘For no lady wants a healthy glow.


To protect the women from the sun

Were quaint parasols for everyone.

Because Victorian ladies know

A tan is a definite no-no.


Placed throughout the garden were wickets

For the dames to play croquet in sets,

Since it was unlikely to tire

Whilst knocking balls through small, arched wires.


Little girls pretended to drink tea

Nearby their mothers, smiling with glee.

Little did the ignorant girls know,

Poison-spiked tea is hard to swallow.


The pleasant aroma of roses

Wafted into many pale noses,

Much unlike the stench of master’s breath

When his rapes his lady ‘til her death.


Two of the women sat together

And had been best friends for forever.

If their hidden romance was revealed,

Then love from doctor could make them healed.


The hostess refilled dainty teacups

As one dame tried to stop her hiccups.

And once the party had reached its end

The ladies feared their frail hearts would rend.


Alas, the women said their goodbyes

And a few even began to cry.

Because they all knew their fun was over

Until they fucked their secret lovers.

Emilie’s “Marry Me” was clearly an inspiration for “Teatime”. 😉

Off the Clock


This is just a poem I wrote about a year ago for a writing contest. Enjoy!

Off the Clock

Office grind and a big salary

Don’t appeal to me.

Predictability and morning coffee

Just depress me.

Settling on a ready-made blueprint of a life,

Complete with a stepford wife,

Is not a part of my reality.

Freedom from routine and complacency

Is where I want to be.

Imagination and creativity

Will never come second.

Inner truth is always right,

While outside opinions can take flight.

My life is not yours to take

And no life path is the same.

Keep your upgrades and business trips,

I’ll stop and smell the tulips.

The moment is worth more than money can buy

And happiness cannot be penciled in.

A one-size fits all life

Only leads to boredom and strife.

Individuality is the golden key

Unlocking all my possibilities.