There are no words to describe whatever is inside of me.  It taunts it races it moves to the surface and pushes I feel like I might explode .  I maybe carrying around unbearable urges to drink and get high.  I may at times feel suicidal, depressed and I may be feeling a sense of sorrow and loss greater and more profound than any other I’ve felt in a life filled with sorrow and loss but I am getting better.  Failure pain self doubt insanity I know them all too well.  I have nothing to say I stare at the wall it doesn’t have much to say to me this morning.  Can’t tell me why I can’t get out of my head, can’t tell me why this sorrow is starting to feel like rage. Can’t tell me how I’m supposed to deal with all this it actually can’t tell me shit.  I am holding on getting through the days feeling better stronger feeling much more comfortable with myself.  If I was in hell before I feel like I am in purgatory now, and I feel like I can’t get to whatever is next.  I still have cravings. I still get nervous.  I am still scared but I am okay with all this.  I have accepted all this shit is the price of my former life.  When you have spent your whole life getting fucked up you learn to do everything fucked up.  So I am having to relearn how to do everything!  It is scary and most of the time I am scared.  I used to think I was tough.  I have realized I was not.  I just wore thick armor and I hurt people so they could not hurt me.  I was fragile.  Now is tough changing, dealing with the damage facing the pain and fear.  Now if I make it through this then I am TOUGH!   To be near something so beautiful and precious but to be unable to experience it is the subtlest form of torture.  I am well on my way to that experience one day at a time.  To me this is the reverse side.  Although I have changed I have changed my life.  I have reversed it I still have my reverse side.  I am OKAY with it!


BREAK BONE HOME by Stephanie Foy

Give me a break

Throw me a bone

I can’t much more of this total heartache

I’m alone and I want to go home

I’d settle gladly for the mundane

To pick up coconuts and not go insane


This pretty green string is around my wrist

Because my arms feel naked without my charms

It was only after settling to the rhythms of this hell

That I realized I’ve been flouting mop strings

All I need is a bell


Sound the alarm.  I’m breaking out.

I’ve got an itchy red rash all over myself


I’d give anything for the mundane

To pick up coconuts… I’m going insane


I’ve been told that amounts of success pays

For the failure of years.

I wouldn’t know

I am still shedding tears.

The fire keeps burning,

The desires keep yearning.

I am building up to something great.

It’s just taking so long cause I keep tempting fate.

But I’m shedding the past,

Weeding out the baggage.

I’m intent on making this

A lifetime I can manage.

If it is true that a moments success pays

For the failure of the years,

By the time I get there

I’ll have cast off all my fears.

The Moon by Ashley McNeil

The moon is ours, a faithful friend protecting the purity of our love

eternal. The stars have seen the look in our eyes.  Knowing we

believed in the universe and trusted the path we were granted.

Watching the sunset over the water, feeling your arms around me…

Magical.  Never trusting anything, ever to putting my life in your hands.

You gave me hope. Showed me truth.  You are my light at the end of the

tunnel, the one I have been lost in, scared and alone, Never again…

I miss you, your smile, touch.  Everything.  Do you love me more

Then you did yesterday?

Poetry inspired by Jamal May’s HUM

After reading poems from Jamal May’s collection Hum, Write On participants were given the prompt to write a highly “mechanical’ poem using words such as construction, dissemble, wire, sandpaper, etcTwo poems follow:


By: Elizabeth Bailey

The clicking sound of a

Sewing machine in the background


An explosion of sound.


Looking around at tons of plywood

and cinderblocks.


Hidden beneath the middle of the stage.


Standing there in a rust colored tutu,

with needle nose pliers for legs.


Adrenaline kicks in as if holding

like a grenade.


Concentration is concrete.


Feet licking the floor,

griping as if sandpaper.


Body is malleable

as a wire.


Cutting and darting across the

stage like an exact knife.


Twirling to a stop.


Moving arms and legs

like interlocking gears.


Taking a bow.


Tired, and ready to be disassebled.


Finding comfort at the bottom

of a take out box.


Although it may appear I’ve gone haywire

By Tava Maray (Aka Sunnie Gee)

Although it may appear I’ve gone haywire

All circuits seen to be firing upon

taking a closer look,

Regardless of wether or not the seer uses

night vision instruments or a drone.


Sometimes I feel as though the world

wishes to disassemble me with

needle nose pliers, as if I’m merely a

Laptop or some other piece of electronic



What they will find, however, is NOT

a photo-copied straight grained

individual with concrete actions or ideas.


No longer will I allow then to stay

in my “Hotel” rent free, guessing who

I’ll be.  As for me, I’m still striving

to be the best me I can be.

A perfect imperfection under

construction. This is me.

Where I Am From by Janelle Willis

I am from fuzzy blankets

From Cafe Bustelo to French vanilla cream

I am from the flowerbed around the birdbath

beautiful ever changing and smelling super heavenly

I am from the periwinkle hydrangea bush, abundant prettyful burst of color

I am from bluegrass festivals and building bonfires

From Granny and Pa to go rest high on that mountain

I am from checking and feeding Pa’s crows to “Let’s go fishing at Coe’s”

From do unto others as you’d have them do unto you and “Dinners ready,

You’ll go wash your hands!” and “What do you want to drink”?

I am from “God is so good”, “Look busy Jesus is coming”

I am from Kentucky and good ole southern hospitality, biscuits and gravy,

corn on the cob, beans and cornbread with Granny’s sweet pepper relish

From the time Pa found the rare Stradivarius Fiddle in Germany and left it laying

on a rock

The “don’t throw that away it is still good”

I scream you scream we all scream for ice cream and

They just don’t make them like that anymore.


Janelle Willis