the color of sin

white silk see through dress
smashed the marriage 
sworn oath 
cracked length un—
wise, she closed his eyes
with dirty fingers 

along muscles and looks
neon lights were 
limp electric on a
sign, surrounded by bouquets
of stinging
paper wasps and
bursts of
spiny backs tripping
on dance
on sin, 

drenched in white sweat,
offering her a tongue,
on a firm breast,
slides a hand down a 
belly, she strokes 
to get a part 
bony in a bottom pink,

excited nymph thigh wraps
low smelling a scent,
into velvet,
white silk pulled up
lust, dark hair skull

arched back,
soiled reputation, immaculate
slate like uneven 
invitation, pelvic bone
stretches skin, sexy curve
of a waist,
muscle tightened, wants
her again,

soot—black lashes slit
blind open
moans in her warm
hair, random screaming
impatient, laying
on a pure naked body,
ready to repent,
lust swells in a night, he runs 
fingers down her
jawline and 

her hands like cuffs in a 
the wait to be uneasy, similar to
matches in a box
waiting to smoke
she. tastes of spilled whiskey on 
the edge of a glass
he. can’t wait to sip 
it slow and
get drunk…

Copyright © 06/17/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


tears on whitewash and rusted nails

she’s there, does not love fences, they
make her cry

but firms up her backbone and sends
the horsehair brush

coating of something sitting in dented
cans and paper labels

onto wood picket and rusted nails,
skips the gaps

they get filled in later to silence
yelping dogs

and quiet slingshots from pinging
glass fronts that

hold onto rubber arms;

wears her ring finger rough from
bargain wood and price tags

paint grasps coveralls and old sneakers
with tenacious hands

uncut grass with white tops gasps for
sun and turpentine

wipes her sweat with hard work and
tired bones

pulls out of a deep pocket where forgotten
thoughts remain, an old photo

of him,

he wears frowns and wrinkles from
crinkled black and white

on the back, “that thing standing on
the deck is me.

i know you will say you like this
snap but i still say

it’s no good, love…”

another photo anxious to breathe
air is reluctantly

pulled out of lint and jacks,

husband, wife, two offspring,
they question,

“where’s daddy?”

storm off of rocks and disagreeable
blue water,

a photograph washed up, waves
poured it onto sand

poured it down a path to a beach

her tears on whitewash and
rusted nails…

Copyright © 06/12/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


she sings the blues

she sang a hard song across his face,
he sat in a room where

outside light had to open up blinds
covered with cobwebs

and one inch dust,

he listened while he squeezed the 
last drop out of 

irish whiskey,

looked around the room for an
outlet to plug his 

life into;

she hugged the microphone with red
fingernails and 

impudent guilt,

unconscious eyes were fixed into
a moment like

a drunk driver’s headlights on a wet

they had met in a bar, a place that
served watered down

drinks and by ‘B’ girls wearing
fishnet stockings,

a cheap song was making noise
on a bad needle,

they danced with her body in
a 45 degree dress,

arms wrapped around his neck
like loose morals;

they took a ride back to her place
in a checkered cab,

threw their clothes into a heap
and had sex

with his five o’clock shadow
and her insecurity,

he left the next morning on a
crowded mid-town

bus with a lot of maybes,

fumbled in his pockets for
spare change to 

buy postage to mail her his

she, sings the blues to wallow in

and broken promises,

he, nails boards over windows
to keep out

false hopes that knock on windows
and post foreclosure

signs typed out with faded black
ribbons and

missing letters,

she, misses notes now, her mind
keeps slipping

into unanswered questions,

he, ends it with silence…

Copyright © 06/12/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


Finding Your Voice

‘it is quite exhilarating when as a poet, you find your voice and you share it, knowing that it touches so many lives’. On my most recent pennings, ‘under a calico sky’ and ‘of love and suspicion’, I had over 115 likes (blog and Facebook), and over 80 comments (on Facebook). Thank you all for your marvelous support!!


of love and suspicion

she pulled paper off of elm bark and cut out

characters with dull scissors,


pressed them into old scrapbooks with white

paste and the corner of a smile


she took pieces of a puzzle out of a cardboard

cupboard where paint chipped


and cracked dishes held onto forgotten suppers;


had a hound dog that could smell a funeral

a mile away,


scent came up through porch boards and wet



black ants come crawling out of woodwork

looking for leftovers


scraped into trash cans with dirty newspapers;


jealous boyfriend next door every time she

sat on rope and board to swing,


wearing her low cut red dress and wiping off

humid air with


a soft, wet, damp sponge,


young men cruis’n by in white walls, d.a.’s

and wolf calls


she eats it up with a silver spoon and glued

on lashes;


walks into the house moving like her hips

are on springs,


she’s running on full oxygen,

he, just trying to breathe


opens up an appliance for cold milk

and satisfaction,


a shot fired


travels through white in a glass,

travels through


a life,



she clocks out like 24 chapters in an

unfinished book,


her body, flying puzzle pieces that

scatter into blue darkness


he tucks death into his pocket, opens

cautiously a


screen door where police lights pry

into furniture and


eyes in grandparent faces hiding behind

glass walls


‘rounds exchanged,

the boyfriend keels




hits porch boards like slow nails and

a hot sun


had a hound dog that could smell a

funeral a mile away …


Copyright © 06/09/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


under a calico sky

cloud bank
heaven floats in a river,
streak of wind
sails on sky fabric,
my love looks
above, light cascades
lights a lantern
she is no longer in 
her tender hands hold
a red dress
she is a beacon on 
craggy rock;
mist of a dream rolls
in on air,
same air as the angels
sun breaks through clouds,
they retreat 
as to lapping waves in 
a canyon
i diminish the distance by
on transparent wings
birds depart as i descend,
summer rain
softly blankets us as we
golden stairs,
sunbeam slants, color of
a new dawn;
straight up into a calico
i am suspended in her love…
Copyright © 06/06/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

the kiss of the beekeeper’s daughter

she was hard wired to lay them down

wore black lipstick
blew white smoke,
“as long as you’re under my roof, you’ll
do as i say,” her father shouted
bees in white boxes make honey for sipping tea,
she picked up an iron skillet cooking
chicken in peanut oil
and sprawled him out on an unscrubbed
kitchen floor where memories
of her mother remained along with a 
dirty mop and cigarette burns
she pushed him aside like clothes waiting
to be washed,
opened a screen door and jumped in 
four wheels without a top
stone and gravel hit up against aluminum
siding with a downpour sound
bubble gum machine on a black and white
hung onto a chrome bumper
she pulled over,
she grabbed his
uniform tie,
her lips brushed his mouth like toothpaste,
he did a six by six
she laid a black rose over his heart;
cruised into a sleazy part of town, parked
her wheels outside a joint
walked in with a lit cigarette and killer legs,
cheap looks were all over her 
ordered something dirty, stood by old songs
on a jukebox
guy grabbed her arm, wanted to dance, kneed
him privately,
moved on the floor, swaying like the music was
following her beat
something tall and handsome walked in, caught
her eye
stamped out the cigarette and slow walked over,
he grabbed her waist
racked his teeth on her gums
died instantly,
rigor mortis set in much as miscreants move into
affluent neighborhoods
she blew the place;
next day, country fair, selling kisses 
for a dollar…

Copyright © 06/06/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


Joffe Cameron’s Most Unusual Occurrences

stars leaned back too far on old rocking chairs

and collapsed into a black hole


their light emptied into a sea,


a man puts on a diving suit and submerges,

needs flame for a candle


so his children can eat cornflakes when the

sun is late,


it missed the 4:15 a.m. train, fell asleep in a

station where newspaper


headlines read like stereo instructions;


dogs don’t tell lies when holding black and

white stories in their mouths,


burnt cinder in an ad from a sun’s request


family skeletons hiding in darkened closets,

afraid of the obituaries;


teachers in one thought classrooms tearing

pages out of text books,


paper airplanes fly out of wooden sashed 

windows searching


for the truth,


gray suited historians aiming shotgun shells

at unidentified flying aircraft,


air raid sirens sound;


i look up into a sky where stars once where,

a quickly burning match


singes fingers that have labored a lifetime,


the charcoal is black like memories i’ve



she was in a piece of broken glass lying

in a doorway,


nails no longer holding paint, fall and break

away her smile


i cut myself on a sharp edge as i try to fit

remaining glass into


a frame on a warped door,


her tears cleanse my unhappiness, yet

i am in solitude


old brick beneath my feet turns to sand,

i sink into a room


behind a desk


candlelight cloaks keys on an aging



black ribbon presses words onto empty



a poem takes shape like the expression on

forgotten remembrances,


finished, my eyes close…


Copyright © 06/06/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®



sky of a tree, leaves tell secrets

to frost
i take the sun in my mouth
to feel
the worth of your soul,
stars walk backwards in 
moon lit 
nights so i can drink your
you enclose me in your 
i hear you crying, i sleep in 
your tears
you hold rain in your tender
i skip a stone in the wetness
of your heart
my mind strolls hungry to 
make you,
i lick you like honey on a
porcelain jar
i lay on you, eat your
i penetrate your lust, you 
mark my 
back with fingers that run
deep into
my skin
wind blows in through open
blinds, window,
dances on silk sheets,
i push further
my palm rubs your breast,
you arch 
your back,
your voice
lips bitten,
i come
i love you,
Copyright © 06/06/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®