a semi-rude awakening
uncalled for

who opened the blinds
who let the sunshine in
where is my identity
it was right here last night
where did this one
come from
I hate new things

well, it seems I used to
now having second thoughts
I really do like it
this new sense suits me fine

"off with the old, on with the new"

who said that
was someone here
I thought was a dream

no, really, what happened
I am smiling before noon

this could be our
documentary
soundtrack would be
the tv you leave on
how every night
the orphan of us
grows lonelier
inside its shadow

here, clothes
remain in suitcases
we fear hanging
preferring bruised
from travel

the manager
tells us
previously
she was beautiful
before the hammer struck
before the man
smashed open her head
and broke it apart
as you undress me
i observe
the brushstrokes of blood

oh little trembling bee
i am finely tuned in
(to your wavelength)
and turned on by
your swaying body

thus i announce my desire
little bee my heart racing
at your name's mention
pale faced and weak in the
knees (when you're near)

i love your sweet glances
with all the chances
we are taking while trying
to disguise our inclination
toward one another

My mind said no
Because of the wine
My body said go

Influence by the wine
I couldn't say no
Now I'm in a bind

My head is spinning
I can't say no
So you're winning

You scored a home run
I was out
Now We're done

We didn't know, so long ago
in our tiny textile town
when they closed the first mill down
it would not be the last to go

Everything would be alright
grown men working part time jobs
late night worried, anguished sobs
the unemployed now taking flight

The other mill was still going
long gone the days of over time
managers watching every dime
winds of change had started blowing

pushpin extravagance
the thoughftul look
the dream square

your arm moves across the space
between us,
rests on my breath

entwined in a lover's question mark
we sleep
the heat of our bodies a sweat lodge,
you carry
a medicine bundle
I hold a marriage basket
across the threshold of dreams

the spirit of heron and deer follow us,
nibbling on our flesh,
crows gather and serpents
rejoice,

we leave no dreams across a summer sky,
the burning bed catches fire,
our agreements carried by four wild winds..

There was this earth-like, heavenly scent
that sneaked inside my brain,
a comfort zone to me, was lent
until the noise drove me insane.

A carpenter was this Jesus man
he died on a piece of wood,
irony has always been a part of the plan
that alone, must be understood.

I since have ceased my longing
for things that aren't to be,
fate can just about hand me anything
and it'll have no effect on me.

"STILLBORN"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 2000
(Written for a colleague.)

A little life
cut short
for what
for why

No worldly strife
you sought
your lot
to live

No sound
no tear
no laugh
no fear

Oh cruel fate
open the gate
that we may enter
and unite.

Dry thoughts don't work well wet...

Throwing your thoughts in the
tumble dryer that was never meant to be
The use of tumble dryer I mean
thoughts can go anywhere instantly

Don’t worry if you haven’t
done it the first time neither had I
one time at the very beginning
I used them not all were dry

You must put them back in
the order they exit the machine
even the ones put to the back
of your mind no matter if they're
not always clean