Pixilated memories

Sitting in her office. Looking at the child who never ages. The digital photo, blurry, without definition.  never to change.


The only hope the stock photography of beaches, a shell, a butterfly, a burger coupon


her carpet worn with weight. with sadness, with the un ending pain of losing the child of her child.


ended life. the name stops. the poverty continues. endless pain. endless loss. never again to see the one thing she had lived for. the one happy point of her day. the smile. the light. the future.


now is ended. now has faded into pixilated memories.



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Sent Away Again

Little girl,

crying as she is sent away.


Sent away yet again.


Sent away from the place

where she has been for weeks.


The place she thought she

might finally fit in.



But she was wrong.


So now she's leaving again.



She can't find the place,

HER place,

the place where she belongs!


She's searching,

forever searching,

for the one place she will be loved.



She's searching,

forever searching,

for her forever home!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dedicated to the more than 400,000 children in foster care.

Please let me know what you think!

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Mary, the kitchen maid, stood behind Mrs Broadbeam the cook in the kitchen. His Lordship wants to see me? Mary asked, looking at the cook's broad hips and behind. That's what was said, Mrs Broadbeam replied, rolling out pastry on a huge table. What's it about? Mary said. How would I know, the cook said, I'm in no position to ask that. Mary wiped her damp hands on her apron. Steam rose from pots on the stove. Who asked for me? Did he come down himself and ask for me? Mary said, standing beside the cook, looking at her worriedly. No, his Lordship didn't, that new nanny, Miss Spingle, came down. Said it was to do with the child, Miss Alice, the cook said, giving the maid, a hard look. You best get up and see his Lordship, I need you back here; there's lots to be done. Mary felt a cold finger run up and down her narrow spine. It wasn't her fault the child had crept into her bed the other night, it wasn't her fault that the child had asked her to be her adopted mother. The child must have spoken. Unless someone had seen the child leave her room the other morning, or saw her creep into he room during the night. Mary felt nauseous. She was done for. Out of a job and home. Who'd employ her after this? Shall I go now? Mary said anxiously. The message was for you to go see his Lordship as soon as you were back, the cook said. There was an annoyed tone in her voice. Mary hesitated, looking around the kitchen as if for the last time. Go on then, the cook said firmly. Mary wiped her hands as dry as she could on the apron. Am I all right as I am? Mary asked.   His Lordship wants to see you about something, he's not taking you out to dinner, the cook said. Mary limped out of the kitchen reluctantly. The corridor from the kitchen to the stairs up the next landing, seemed like a walk towards doom. She pushed her fingers through hair, adjusted her apron and dress. She climbed the stairs slowly. Another maid passed her by, carrying laundry, she nodded, walked on and away. Mary felt as if her whole insides were about to drop between her thighs. She limped onwards and pushed open the door that lead to the upper landing. The floors smelt of polish and flowers. Everything looked as if it had been polished to a bright shine. She limped nervously across the floor, looking at the paintings on the walls, vases with flowers. When she came to his Lordship's room she stood and waited. She ought to have emptied her bladder become coming, she felt full and on the edge. Mr Fedge, the butler, opened the door before her. Ah, Mary, you are here; right his Lordship is waiting for you, go on in, he said, his dark eyes moving over her as if she were a young puppy with wet paws. Mary entered the room. The butler closed the door behind her. She stood looking at the room. His Lordship was sitting at a desk at the far end of the room, the new nanny was by the window looking out. Mary stood with her red hands in front of her. Her hip ached. Her bladder seemed about to explode. His Lordship looked at her over his desk. Ah, there you are, Mary, he said, come up here and sit on the chair. I want to talk to you on matters concerning my daughter Alice. Mary felt herself go red in the face; her limbs stiffened. The child had talked. Now she was done for. She limped towards the desk, her hands shaking at her sides. The nanny didn't look around, but gazed out the window. Sit here, his Lordship said, pulling out a chair, beside him. Mary limped to the chair and sat down. He studied her deeply. Now, since my wife and Alice's mother is unwell and in a place of safety, I am hard pressed to keep the child happy and at the same time out of my hair. Nanny Spingle, here does her side of things, but I need someone to be with the child at other times when she is not at her school work and seems to wander about the house like a street urchin. Mary looked at his Lordship's face. He didn't seem angry with her or anything, but why was he telling her about needing someone for the child. The child was not her concern. She was just a kitchen maid. I can do my best to discipline the child and Nanny here does her work, but I cannot spare time or energy chasing after her all of the time. The nanny turned around, her eyes settled on Mary, then on his Lordship. The eyes mellowed on meeting his. Alice needs a lady's maid, the nanny said. Yes, that's it, his Lordship said, a lady's maid.  Mary stared at them both. Were they going to ask her if she could recommend someone? One of the other maids? I'm not sure I know who could do the job, your Lordship, Mary said. The nanny gazed at her, her eyes darker, less friendly. We thought you could do it, the nanny said. Yes, Alice seems to have taken to you and that is a good start, his Lordship said. Mary stood open mouthed. Me? she said softly. Yes, you will be ideal, he said, smiling, eyeing her. Of course you would have to sleep in her room and be there most of the day and some of the night, the nanny said. And of course a new uniform and an increase in your wages, his Lordship said. Mary pushed her knees together. Her bladder seemed about to explode. I would love to, Mary said, do my best for her, she added. I've no doubt you will, he said, looking relieved, wiping his hands together as if a dark deed had been done. When shall I start? Mary asked, thinking of the cook waiting for her below stairs in the kitchen. Nanny looked at his Lordship. I will ask Fedge to look around for a new kitchen maid, she said. His Lordship nodded agreement. Next Sunday you will begin, his Lordship said, taking Alice to church and keep her near and well behaved. The nanny looked at Mary searchingly, then at his Lordship. She smiled at him. Mary sat waiting; her stomach turning over. Right, that's settled, nanny said, you may go now. Yes, Mary, thank you. I will inform the child of your employment, he said, his eyes looking her over briefly, then back at the nanny. Mary stood up and bowed her head and limped from the room, self conscious of her being stared at. She went out the room and closed the door behind her. She stood there vacant. Her mind was rushing with words and ideas and visions and her bladder about to burst. She limped away from the door, along the polished floor, through the thick door separating the upper rooms from lower orders. She limped slowly towards the staff toilet on the second floor, her mind in both a state of joy and at the same time feeling out on a limb, out of her depths. She entered the toilet and shut the door. Footsteps moved across the room above. Voices called from along the corridor. Some one laughed. She sat and closed her eyes; her bladder emptied, her heartbeat slowed, her nerves calmed. A lady's maid. She repeated it in her mind; turned the phrase over and over in her mind like a boiled sweet. What would Mrs Broadbeam say? How would the other staff be with her now? She saw the child in her mind. How had she crept into her bed? And why? Suddenly, unexpectedly, Mary began to cry.

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The stables
where horses
snort and move


and grooms work
and sky dull
and greyish


Alice walks
holding on
for dear life


to the hand
of Mary
the one she


has chosen
to be her
new mother


fingers red
with washing
chores and things


but it's warm
as she holds
the hand tight


Mary talks
of cold nights
noisy bed


attic mice
and spiders
in corners


of the room
Alice says
I could stay


in your room
keep you warm
cuddle up


hold you close
as I did
with Mother


in her bed
before she
was locked up


with illness
of her brain
Mary sighs


feels the hand
in her own
small and warm


small fingers
tiny nails
pink and pure


different class
than her own
we will see


Mary says
stable sounds
horses snort


their large heads
looking out
big black eyes


large white teeth
busy grooms
at their work


Alice looks
inner fear
but draws near


wants to stroke
Mary lifts
Alice up


her red hands
wedged beneath
small armpits


mother's love
smells the soap
in the hair


on the blue
Alice smiles


feels the horse
smooth and hot
on her hand


Mary holds
feels the heart
beating soft


as she holds
Alice up
to the horse


secret child
in her heart

none must know
of this love
secret pact


lift her on
a groom says
Alice thrills


lifted there
Mary holds
the groom laughs


in loud barks
in the blood
this horse love


the groom says
Alice smiles


shining out
of her eyes
Mary holds


her tightly
keeps her there
on the horse


safe and sound
then later
after that


lifts her down
to the ground
as the horse


with the groom
walk away
come on then


Mary says
let's go back
your father


will wonder
where you are
Alice nods


holds the hand
soft and warm
wants to be


close to her
but she sees
by the house


Nanny stand
arms folded
grim features


dressed in black
Mary holds
the child's hand


tighter still
walking back.

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Enter My Fear

All of the welcoming emotion suddenly dies.
and the darkness shrouds the land in only misery's cries.


Enter grief!
A timeless ocean. 
Trapped of despair, trapped without relief
Enter the moon!
Endless racing of the thoughts.
Including you alone, trapped dead inside an empty room

The dead is holding you stiff once more!
Staring into your eyes, never have you felt so gone before

The time comes again, to pit against all that is you
Will you ever find the part of you that is actually true?

Paint the sky bleak
Consider everything we cannot speak

The one painting with the sun I painted as a child is lost.
Reality has broken the barrier, this is the ultimate cost


A Little Child


Have to be a little child from my father,

Have to obey Cthulhu evermore.

And all bad things turned into dust,

By my evil and good Father.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Some thoughts I had.

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                 Jenny Jenkins, cute little girl, but she has had a tough life. Far worse than other lives, she never knew of a thing above poverty. T'is late December, and here she sits shivering next to two stone blocks trying to warm herself with a single, small, thin match stick. Of course to no avail, as her eyes stare at the flame, the match reaches the end of itself, leaving a little burn on her finger. She can't feel it though, she lost her sense of touch about an hour ago. All four limbs numb, heat leaving her body, she starts to feel sleepy. She slumps onto one of the stone blocks, resting her head under some writing. Curious, she tries to read what it says. "Here lies Miriam..." and with that, Jenny's eyes glazed over. Her eyes meeting my own. Her tiny, fragile flame had been extinguished. Little did she know, the two stone blocks were tombstones that read " Here lies Miriam and David Jenkins". As I watched this happen, I couldn't help but feel saddened. Normally I watch deaths happen, visit the poor souls, and continue with my job, but it's always harder with children. I visited her parents, now I've visited her. Well, let's see who's next on the list. Damn, another kid....

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ok, so all of my poetry is posted so I figured I should put up my stories. This, and others which I will post on here, are in the persona of Death or the Grim Reaper watching these people die, and he keeps a sort of journal explaining what happened to them. And when they finally do kick the bucket, they see him because it is their time to go, but to other people it just looks like their eyes have glazed over and they have died. That's what I meant by "Her eyes meeting my own." And as always, criticism of any kind are welcome and appreciated.

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Nature / Folder 1




you may 

love her

hate her

curse her

leave her

hit her

rob her

hurt her

lie to her

cheat her

ignore her

belittle her

betray her

slay her

degrade her


but the fact is,


you came into existence

asking to live,

and she had many opportunities to run from you,

and erase your life,

and she did not run from you,

 and so therefore, no matter how much you 

are tempted to blame her

for your own unhappiness,

the blame will always be shared with one other 









© 2013





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Lulled Hush



Lull in the hush as stars in heaven rise,

slowly drifting past the sun setting skies

With sprinkled dust bringing finale to day,

the magic from sandman lures you away


Grasping the rainbows as eve fades from sight,

vivid horizons painting dreams at night

Entered world - graced with like beauty in kind,

'held wonders come from purest heart and mind


To lands where innocence only may roam,

visions leading to well of wish's home

With drawing breath - giving moment in thought,

tossed on a penny, whispered fancies sought


Through open meadows, a view to delight,

dewdrops to diamonds in morning's light

Surfaced on ripples - lies palace of gold,

other side to a coin that few behold


Flowers in blossom and shades under trees,

whisked wings from angels creating a breeze

Coursing green valleys, honey flowing streams,

within depths of banks the cool water gleams


Behind your eyes the images unfold,

spun to ceaseless smiles, the stories are told

Lulled in the hush, chasing a twinkled sky,

hoping you'll never have to say goodbye




Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just another handful of words.

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