Upcoming Publication: “Some Days”

I’m very excited to announce that my narrative poem, “Some Days,” will be featured in the Emerge Literary Journal, a physical (print) magazine showcasing poetry and prose from emerging writers. Their journal is scheduled to come out December 2014, and I’m pleased to know that this will be my very first print publication. I’ve been…

The Turtle and the Dove

The Turtle and the Dove. A turtle looked to Heaven, for the sky that bore his love. Many found it awful silly, for a reptile to love a dove. “She makes my heart a’flutter,” said the hard-shell to his friend, “There’s no distance I wouldn’t travel, I’d pursue her to the end.” His darling bird…

451

A fantasy cloaked in non-fiction, you were the story I couldn’t put down. Words branded on my eyelids, pressed deep in the pages of my soul. Sex. Magic. Love. Lies. Nonsense. Truth. Now I know why the world burns books. ———————————– – Victoria Elizabeth

Manifesto

I want to be me. Not what anyone assumes of me. I’m a sexual person. I won’t be ashamed of it. I want to have sex. Lots of it. I want to read my books without being called a nerd. I want to write my fucking poetry without someone cranking up some shitty movie to…

Clean Your Mess

It would be simpler, a sharpened blade trailed down slender wrist. Easier than this treacherous game called life. There would be no desire, hope, pain, want, failure. Only absolution, quiet. It would be simpler a handful of pills, some pink, some blue, maybe yellow, just for fun. Eyelids heavy, promised rest, a final resolution that…

Watch Me

Vitriol. Drip, drip, drip. Rolling down in rivers, flood. I bathe in pools of poison. Watch me. Trivial. Skip, skip, skip. Rolling off my shoulders, thud. I dance in puddles of blame. Watch me. Minimal. Rip, rip, rip. Rolling, off my tongue, cud. I dine in ponds of apathy. Watch me. _______________________________ Thanks for reading!…

An Ode to the Stars

What’s the most beautiful thing about stars? There’s a billion of them: two, three, four billion. More than you could count in a hundred lifetimes. When one burns out in an endless sea of twinkling lights, you hardly notice. The sky doesn’t get dimmer, The night doesn’t creep up, Your world keeps turning. Unless, of…

Fickle, a new poem.

There’s something about a glass of wine (or a bottle) along with a sweaty workout that gets the blood flowing. And blood flowing leads to writing, writing, writing. ———————— You were the lie I told myself, The truth I made myself believe. My careless mind let down its guard To a heart that would deceive.…

Playing Grown-Up (poem)

This is a poem I’ve been working on (and endlessly tweaking) for the last four months. I can’t seem to get it where I like it, so I thought I would share it here and solicit feedback. Any ideas or thoughts are welcomed. ———————————– Does it ever dawn on you that maybe you’re just faking…

Pocket (Poem)

One day, I will waste away small enough to fit in your pocket. You’ll tuck me away, beg me to stay, a paperweight to fit in your pocket. Like clay, molded to play. Finally worthy to fit in your pocket. You’ll lovingly say, “I’ll take you away,” small enough to fit in your pocket. For…