80 to 84 of 100


How beautiful it is
To be loved by a madwoman
Leonard wrote
I must agree

These careful men
These proud, these cautious men
Choose dignity over risk
They bore me

So very polite, so little passion
So much pride
Flames simmer as I wait for them
To do what’s right

The madman chases relentlessly
You hate to love it
You admire, you encourage
Don’t you?

Admit it
Though the insanity suffocates
It’s a sweeter death for love, isn’t it?
Than eventual kindness.


Perhaps I should begin again
Like there’s such a thing as
Brand new again
Some place where
The story is new
And you and the prologue
Don’t exist
The past isn’t heavy, dear
In fact it’s my pillow of feathers
I need it to sleep
So be soft
Let me rest
Because of course I know
You are reading this.


I also have hearts
I’m responsible for
The lack of rings or words
Changes nothing
Humans love
By instinct
And so
The details vary
Neither of us want to hurt anyone.


There’s a chant in my head
And a chain on my soul
And it’s killing me dead
With its hard heavy hold

A piercing cacophony
Her words crushed my heart
A lingering and lengthening
Litany that starts…

And this is the point where
I tried long to list
The names of the boulders
That cause me to limp

But I wrote and I rewrote
Crossed out and cursed
Tried to turn evil
Into song, into verse

But my anger is not poetic.


One hundred percent effective
One hundred percent of the time
One hundred compliments
One hundred lies

One hundred soldiers
One lonely, beautiful sunrise
Long shadows, no shadows
Long shadows


À propos de Stina

If I could tell you about me in a neat and tidy definitive statement, I don't think I'd be writing this blog.
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