Men tears

I collect them!

in buckets
drained over the years
from sunny days
inside their smiles

I collect them!

not even in my bed
sweet, salted wounds
bottled up monsoons

I collect them!

in solitude
wind-blown quietude
laid down liaisons
feels like a mission

I collect them!

Men tears!

parting words
never heard
salted and sweet
purged down cheeks to my feet

I collect them!

from them that can’t let go
of those who won’t say no
gifted in long embrace
wrapped in moonlight lace

Men tears!

I collect them!

L. January 18, 2015 1800


Those who don’t allow themselves to cry pass the hurt onto others who will!


Hustle and consequences


To the best part of my being here!

I want to believe that the energy we send when we think about someone and meditate on his name, does reach that person. You make me want to believe in the impossible, the unthinkable.

It has been a few weeks since you have been on my mind. I hover across time, pulling out memories you left behind. They were always sweet, kind. Man! How I appreciated you! I don’t think you’ll ever be able to comprehend how your thoughtfulness affected every particle of my being.

You are exceptional. I don’t know many people who will make time for me and my family. You did. You left business dealings, adjourned meetings to spend time with us. You were the sole person to welcome me to this state, this city. You’d say “hey, Nydsie, I’ll show you around. I’ll show you my Florida.” You took us to the places you loved, frequented. You made sure to call us and see how we were doing at least every two weeks. You understood what it meant to be alone and no family around us. You embraced us.

I miss you so much!

I miss the girls jumping all over you and you lifting them both on your shoulders together so they won’t be jealous. Do you know they still remember all the lessons you taught them about boys, dating, saving money and loving each other.

The girls miss you so much.

You were the best part to moving here although you weren’t even part of the plan. Boy! You are so giving. I know you had that savior complex I used to tease you about, but honey it is what makes you so memorable, so good. How you saved me from sad days, loneliness and the tears! I am who I am today because of you. You held me up when I was wreak and refused to take the credit.

I would give anything to know you’re okay, to know where you are, to know you’re happy.

I knew what you were up to you wished to keep us away from and one day will take you from us. I wished you believed enough and took the leap to trust. You could only be who you are. No matter how imperfect you believe yourself to be, how dirty, nasty and cruel the life you lead is, they don’t and will never take away how wonderful you truly are.

I miss you B.!

Surely, the universe will make sure you’re surrounded by the loving energy we continually send your way.

Hope you’re aight!!!

You were worth it!

Dare to live!


Dawn declares another day
what if, you too go away,
embedded in the margins of yesterday!

Wilted, to mean much more
than smoke bellowing off a chimney?

Does the moon shade the sun,
or the sun the stars?
do they string across the firmament?

many some-days, but only just one day to my dismay?

You want me unafraid
when promises rest between heartbeat and breath?

To succumb
catch fate unaware?
do I dare, do I dare?

L. 01/7/15


I hovered over your name today. I almost contacted you. A moment of weakness I am sure, then I recall how you weren’t kind to me. We all leave footprints, yours were hurtful. I remembered why I let go.

O, Zarathustra!


not yet a man
youthfulness not spent
I crawled to old
for a bowl of future
filled. overflowing it was.
so, I was told
piled high with mementos
mainly clouds
they sunk down low
secured in the gallows
success, not fame
fun! laughter aplenty!
art, even though I wasn’t Van Gogh
music, tunes with catch phrases
pleading to and fro
and LOVE!
on my belly to your shore
Rhea, queen above all
empty me
now comes the fall
hollow, the cause of it all
the gravity of depravity!
youthfulness is no more
I wait no more!

L. 01/12/15 1937

“Rhea” reference to the queen of heaven, queen of the universe, the great mother,” “the mother of the gods,” Cybele, Cybebe, Agdistis, Berecyntia, Brimo, Dindymene, “the great Idaean mother of the gods.


When I was 12 years old, I stopped writing because a man stole the very first book I had spent months writing. He promised he was going to read it and turn my little notebook into a pretty nice real book. And I stopped writing for 20 years after that. Well! I stopped sharing my writings. My ex later told me he went into my diaries, secretly and read them all. More than 20 years later, a male asked that I share my writings. He encouraged me to. Eight years later, I stopped once more due to heartbreak. My writing, a source of joy, turned so dark that I felt myself sinking every time. It was a form of release as well as specks of soil on my head. I wrote yo remove that male demon out of my head, my heart, my thoughts. As I couldn’t, I killed my muse. Well, I tried to. I silenced her. It stopped being about the men in my life, what they said, how they impressed themselves in my psyche. Recently, I called her back. I longed for that voice inside my head. Then came him, a ghost from the past. The fool always told me to keep her in my back pocket. So, I reached for her. And through a male poet, she kissed me again.

This year has been so busy already. It is insane! I have a CD project in the works for this summer, a book tour, some readings in the area etc…

Happy present my lovelies!

Here’s to good and bad, really the same coin!

Drawing on kismet!


wish I could build
new memories
like cilia on open wounds
I gravitate to the new
salve on my past
It won’t stick
those tidy layers of novelty
skewed caricatures of wants
bravery in coat tails and fine linens
I am yearning
wanting to forget

some days they are far away
faint spells of stoic dreams
how I crave, sweet memories!

L. 01/10/15 0904