My Cellar.

Girls and boys I love them both and keep them in my cellar,

One and two and twenty ploys I keep under surrender.

One day a man came to my door so I pluck a girl and tell her

“Don’t tell him what I hide beneath, don’t show him your bruised and battered feet, don’t tell him what I hide beneath, or else I shall make you pay,”

So the girl greets the man in a solemn kind of way, she curtsies slow, they talk, he goes and at the end of the day, still nobody knows what is in my cellar.

—-

The next day, the man came back to visit to see the girl again

But I dumped her body somewhere, I don’t remember where, so I grab a boy and whisper

“Don’t tell him what I hide beneath, don’t speak for your voice is hoarse and bleak, don’t tell him what I hide beneath, or else I shall make you pay,”

And so the boy waves to the man, he grinned at him, he shook his hand, and after tea that gentleman went on his merry way

And at the end of the day, still nobody knows what is in my cellar.

—-

The following day, that cursed man came back to speak with the boy

But I left him alone to starve and die somewhere far from this home

With no one left I can present to him cleanly (for rest of them had turned quite greenly), I came to the door with a coy and just grin, welcoming him quite sweetly

The man, however, did not react the way he once did as he swiftly passed my figure, through the door he wandered in and asked where were my children

“Oh them?” I ask, quite cheerfully spoken

“They are but away. Have gone away to their Uncle’s home and shall be back again some day,”

“That is quite a shame,” the man said low, shaking his head uneven,

He blocked the door, but right before, brandished a knife quite cunning

“Tis’ a shame your children aren’t here to see what I shall do to you, sweet.

Tis’ a shame they won’t know what to say when you are completely gone,”

I blinked with surprise, astonishment in my eyes, while my lips curled into a sneer,

“Do what you please, but when I die, you must abide to these rules as well, my sweet,”

He nodded stiffly and listened closely as I leaned in close and said,

“Don’t tell them what I hide beneath, don’t touch my steps with your filthy feet, don’t tell them what I hide beneath, or else,” I glared,

“I shall make you pay,”

And so he pressed the knife against my throat, both firm and very bold

A squelch, a squeal, a thrashing moment before everything went cold

He dragged my body messily across the polished marble floors,

He dragged my body and then he dropped me,

Right past the cellar door.

—-

And to this day, I must say, and all I know concurs

at the end of the day, still nobody knows what is in my cellar.

Aftermath of A God’s World

You’re warm like summer and silky as cream

Slipping past my fingertips

As I raise you above your planet

And spill you back to whence you came

You are the sand that caresses my palms

And I feel every grain

I value every creature, every child that is mine

From the empty-eyed doe to the bow legged goat

Lovingly, I whisper life into their lungs and light into their minds

Bite me all you like, I shall never harm you

But bring destruction upon yourselves, that is when I cannot save you

You are hot like the summer and white as sour milk

The pearly bones of your existence slip past my fingertips

As you are risen above your planet

And crushed inside my palm

And spilled back to whence you came


This is a re-post from my Instagram. I felt that all poetry should eventually find its way back home to here, no matter where they are first birthed.

Mindless Drabbles

Why can’t feeling be bought at the gas station

Amnesia sold in bottled plastic,

Emptiness poured in soup cans,

Empathy packed in air-tight bags,

With shrink wrap seals

And alarm-rigged boxes

But trauma is free to those that don’t want it

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