Maybe Baby?

I peed on this little plastic stick
Because you didn’t want to wrap up your dick
If it ends up pink
It’s because we didn’t think
That my face would be the best place
For you to deposit your race

© 2007 Miss Blue

Untitled

the hand on the thigh
the finger on the lip
tug of the hair
in the beast’s filthy lair
just breathe

© 2007 Miss Blue

Inspiration

I have words in me
That need to escape
They crawl under my skin

I want to tear at it
Make them come out
Make it work

I want you to read
What’s in me
I want you to see the pieces
That you’ve left

The talent produced
By pain
And never pleasure

Could I write by the countryside?
A soothing
Love poem
Where all is well
Or
Could I write about the beauty of spring
And the smell of a lover
Who isn’t cheating
and a season that isn’t dying

I couldn’t
I wouldn’t
Write about things
I have no knowledge of
So I write in the darkness
Of myself

© 2007 Miss Blue

Voodoo Queen

She danced in the moonlight
With the belief her doll could not walk
Her doll could not talk
Her doll could not think
And he was hers to keep

So she left it behind to weep
Had she not known her doll
Had grown a soul?
Oh voodoo queen
What did you think?

That you could push and pull
Manipulate pain and desire
Speak promises of love
And he would not listen?
And when you packed your things
For another walk
Do you think he did not hear you talk?

“Left behind is where you will stay
I swear to you I will come back another day
You are mine and I am yours
Forever and a day I will make sure.”

But she never returned for her doll
Until her doll learned to walk
Learned to talk
Learned to think
And decided to speak
With desire for his voodoo queen
He found her once more
Further than his legs could take him

So he found another
A pavement commoner
Fragile and broken
He found her

This commoner was no mystic
She could not foresee
All that this soulful doll could bring
But she knew he was special
So she sewed his tattered heart
And held him close

Oh voodoo queen
Your doll has found another
But your spirit he still seeks
After the words you spoke
He knows nothing but your
Tangling grasp

He calls for you
Have you heard he has found another?
Have you heard she is not like you?
She’s just a commoner
Trying to take what is yours
Claim what you left behind

Call for him
Continue
Call
He will answer
He’s under your spell
For you he will dwell

Forever and a day you remind him
He was your doll
You did not know he would
Learn to talk
Learn to speak
Learn to think
Learn to walk
Walk right to another
A commoner at that
So you pulled him back

With the words you swore
And he believed
And the commoner who cared for him was released
Back to the pavement where he found her
His voodoo queen has returned
With the understanding
That she left and she will leave again
Once she is certain he has washed
The commoner from himself

For that is her doll
Wherever she leaves him
To dance in the moonlight
He is to stay
Filled with pain and desire
For his voodoo queen

© 2007 Miss Blue

The Silent Wife

The Silent Wife
The silent wife never learned her lesson
The emotions scattered only to shatter
So she left
But he convinced her it would be different this time

So she returned
Her heart was still under the manipulator’s tangling grasp
She ached in silence
Every phone call he made
To his secret lover(s)
She died a little

Finally she spoke
The silent wife could take no more
She told the tales
Of pain she endured
Every time she found out he made someone else cry for more

When she spoke
And retold all the lies he told
He struck her
Making her pain visible
She packed her bags with all she could
With the shattered pieces of her life

She took off into the new
The new was brilliant and kind
But new turned out to be the same
In another’s skin

The silent wife gave herself away
Once more
To someone who locked his revolving door
The new lies ran deep
His soul wasn’t hers to keep

She soon found the new was no better
So she spoke
And choked on her own words
Had she not learned her lesson
To remain in silence

Or forever be alone?

© 2007 Miss Blue

Drunk on Monday

Hollow humanity too hollow to hate
Vacant eyes and a dollar sign to fill that void
There can’t be love in a capitalist state
The irate debate of love and money

Just rip your heart out
Give it to me honey
It’s your life
But mine for the taking

Shameless and saddened
Let me have you
I’ll make you gag
On every slovenly sweet word you’ve tried to feed me
‘Cause it’s your turn to be used
And I won’t stop

There’s no use to care
All we face is despair
Rotting rancid lives
And no time machine for wasted moments

There is no certainty in love
But money is concrete
And in a capitalist society it’s all you need
Disregard love ‘cause it’s all a nasty dream

That’s why I sit here drunk on Monday
Thinking and knowing that I’ve been torn apart and used
Realizing it’s my turn to clean out the space
Create an empty void and take your life to erase
All the suffering I’ve endured
It’s your turn baby and I want more

© 2004 Miss Blue

Human Weakness

All day long I sat here bored
In a cesspool of clichés
Sugar and saccharine hearts so played out that the thought of using Equal in your tea makes you want to scream.
Armor similar to shatter proof glass as to shatter proof souls hidden deep beneath to prevent a rip tide of emotion
Emotion that can put you in motion for a thing called love
A concept itself that is so played out it has lost all meaning.
No feeling no true emotion just a word
A word in a dictionary
A line in a novel
A word in a poem
A character line in a play
Person, place or thing
Used to describe
Used to describe what?
Nonexistent feelings
To coerce another’s private thoughts
If to live is to love and to love is to live then we are all a farce
Manufactured cutouts distributed to lead no one
Production line assembly pushing mass production because we are all in such high demand
Waiting for the right one to be made to compliment a siege of emotion
All for what?
To let useless dribble pour from fingertips to create the ultimate cliché…
Instead…
All day long I sat here bored


© 2003 Miss Blue

Prelude to Madness

I've decided to create this page to share my work. I must get back into the habit of writing for myself and not just shelling out essays and articles like a machine. I need to remember that this is something I enjoy doing.

I will be posting old and new pieces. Some of you will remember the older work from a time where some of us were active writers, poets, musicians and artists going to readings, shows, galleries and participating in anything we could get our names on. I remember those calm hot summer days filled with cookies and cheap Kool-Aid knockoffs turning into crazy summer nights and becoming something to write about.

Those days are gone. No need to dwell on them but the words still remain.