Archive for the ‘My Poetry Drafts’ Category

Excuses, Like Nooses

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Excuses, Like Nooses


Excuses like nooses are squeezing your neck

Choking off honesty ‘till there’s no speck

They squeeze while you wheeze, keeping truth in check

Excuses are nooses; they’re all spewing dreck.


Excuses are lies that swirl behind your eyes

Inhibiting honor with intel from spies

They prise reality’s impassioned cries

Excuses are lies that swirl behind your eyes.


Excuses induce this brackish green bile

Burning your throat, there’s no acid denial

They gargle and warble their ceaseless cruel guile

Excuses induce this enraging lie-style.

Read the Printed Word!

(An original poem by Blanca Donovan)


The Big Seethe

(An original poem by Blanca Donovan)

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The Big Seethe



Disaggregated detritus dusts

My desiccated spirit.

I choke on bile, while they

Exile my style.

Deluded displays of domination

Deal despair.

Smile with guile, for bile chokes denial.


You cater, you cajole

You respond, you reflect

You invest!  Man hours in ivory towers



Of the time that your style is viewed as worthwhile.


How do you suffocate a scorpion?

You stomach your pride and

Choke it down inside and

Language that’s snide hides the hurt you must abide.







Button 4         


Wind Me Up–Run Me Down

Your clock –
Tick tocks;
My clock –
Mock mocks.
Your time –
Gold plate;
My time –
Must wait.


Quick talk
Quick talk
Tick tock
Mock Mock…


Your job –
Thin beer;
My job –
Thick fear.
Your work –
First place;
My work –
No space.


Fake talk
Fake talk
Tick tock
Mock mock
Your type –
Talk tripe;
My type –
Ban hype.
Your gab –
Top speak;
My gab –
Pips squeak.


Bleak talk
Bleak talk
Tick tock
Mock Mock


Your deal –
Clique life;
My deal –
Sharp knife.
Your scene –
Fake shit;
My scene –
Shield split.


Sneak talk
Sneak talk
Tick Tock
Mock Mock


Your way –
My way –
Shut door.


5-Nov-10 21:25


Bleeding in The Dark

My heart feels like the night – dark and smothered;
My heart feels like a wound – quietly bleeding;
My heart feels like glass – cracking, cracking.


In the smothering dark,
Feel the blood flow over breaking glass.
Through the breaking glass,
Hear the silent, flowing blood.


In me you see
Broken and whole as
One and the same.
In me you see
Light and dark as
One and the same.


Or you could if…
You could see into the darkness
You could see past the cracks
You could see through the blood.


In the silence of hopes,
In the yearning of wishes,
In the limbo of dreams:
That is when my
Heart is whole.


10-13-2010 by swetergrl

title font: Chiller



Bedtime Glories


There’s something about
A weekend afternoon lie-in
– In a finally made bed
– In a finally clean room
– In the cool and dim
– In my favorite bikinis
That just drains all the sturm-und-drang out of me.


It’s replaced with organic urges:
The urge to read
The urge to write
The urge to kip
The urge to surge
– My body into another’s,
Making love to the rhythm of rain pellets.


Boreas — that nosy, noisy DJ sets the tempo
At my windows as a breeze blows.
Sweet, syrupy honey-lust lingers in my veins;
Soft, sinuous lips linger over skin.


The sound of rain is magic.
The scent of rain is magic.
The sight of rain is magic.
The swish of rain is magic.


Rain is magic.
Magic is love.
Love is rain.


10-10-10 by swetergrl

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