Beware the lure Of low hanging fruit Easy fixes wrapped In pretty packages Promising To help ease the pain Make quick work Of damage Years in the making No weekend meditation retreat Tapping therapy Chakra clearing Vibrational healing Is going to solve Decades of harm In a few sessions There needs to be so much… Continue reading Deanna L. Raymond: The lute of low hanging fruit.
Some things cut so deep That they never close Because instead of Exposing it to the sun and air It is easier to heap all manner Of shit and denial on top of it Detritus to fill the hole beneath the surface Piled with more escapism, justification and out right self neglect Till there is… Continue reading Deanna L. Raymond: Deep Wounds
Stay back She told me Lay low Don't over reach Don't want too much Who are you To dare Ask more of life Than I did Or to deserve To live out loud When playing small Is enough to get by? You will surely fail You always do You want too much Sit down, be… Continue reading Deanna L. Raymond: Don’t tell me…
Years upon years layer upon layer whip stitched slip stitched back stitched enclosing myself cocooning from any more pain for what good that did there was never enough stuffing or strong enough thread but still I would mend the tears till fingers bled I am too old now to keep hiding my fingers so cramped… Continue reading Deanna L. Raymond: I want to tumble out from the seams.
I know I have Been weak Crushed and bruised Under someone's thumb I know I have been low In deep caves of Subterranean depression I know I have done things To be loved, seen, wanted That made me feel Pathetic, dirty I know for years I no longer knew Who I truly was But I… Continue reading Deanna L. Raymond: I know this to be my deepest truth.
"Morning (In All Its) Glory" 'I am a drunken morning, curtains drawn so your denial can be firm. I am a drunken morning, a taste that lingers on both sets of your lips. I am a drunken morning, the regret that hasn't yet set in. I am a drunken morning, the shame of what you've… Continue reading B. Alan Hart: I am a drunken morning.
My heart has the skill To walk the high wire Tiptoed,dipping and Balancing this way And that But still falls From its height Just shy of the safety Of the opposite platform My heart can contort Tumble, bend and roll Into whatever form You need it to baby But it never seems enough To satisfy… Continue reading Deanna L. Raymond: I can acrobat my heart.