First Book. (me and my Fox wrote that)

The light coming trough the window

showed all the dust that exploded from

the opening of that one book…



This cold light

lighting up

the warm dusty room.

Books and books and nothing but books.

Mice’s houses.

Rat’s castles.

Home of the fattest woodworms.


I cough with every step,

cause every step

is a step creating

clouds of dust.

Dust created from books.





As I walk thought the kingdom of dead knowledge

towards the end of the world,

I’m looking for one book.

Even if in pieces.

Even a tiny part of it.

i need it.


A page, or a line.

A word would do.


My room is my desert,

my prison and my kingdom.

So I build my paper castles

and I burn my books to feel warm.

I drink the sunlight

and I look for the word, hopelessly,

like it would save my soul,

like it would grant my wishes.


I don’t know how old is that wine.

I found it behind these books over there.

It tastes like shit,

but that’s allright.

I’m eating the leather covers some book have,

else i’m dying.

I lick my own sweat,

the rats are no more.

All their houses and castles and bedrooms are ruined.

You see, i’m still looking for that piece from that book.

Even the moths are gone.

Not that tasty,

but that’s alright.

Oh well, here we go again…


I’m a starving man,

a godless messiah,

soon I’ll feed myself

pieces of my flesh,

tiny organs no one needs.

It hurts a little now,

but that doesn’t matter.

I can devour anything,

I just need to keep my fingers,

so I can run them over my book,

when I find it,

I will find it,

gently caress the pages,

one by one, run my hands

over the hard covers, the soft insides.


When I find my book

it will all be worth it.


New rat in town.

The rat is no more.

Gave me strenght for one last search.

It seems i looked everywhere:

in all the secret rooms,

under the stairs,

behind the bookcase,

under that little door behind the sofa…or what’s left of it anyway.

The book is nowhere to be seen

so now i’m on the floor.

Breathing is almost impossible

cause of the dust i breathed through these months.

Seems like my last scar has opened up…

The ceiling is beautiful…

Andels fighting demons.

Demons loving angels.

And God is reading a book…





There’s dust dripping from me.

Dust and words.

And light.

I’ll ask you in a bit… Father!




So what I’m a character?

So what my steps are counted?

I had the right to try and change that!

See you in the next book, God!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please comment and tell me what you think. I would be happy to hear from you.

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"Lion's Feast"

Just a thought!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Getting a little leg with your wine...that's poetic!"Tongue Out

*You Walked In*

Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

You walked in 
And my broken heart went out the door 
And "me" you won

My heart 
My soul 
Everything within every part 
Keeping you love is my goal

When you walked in 
You set my fears free 
I've changed within 
I'm happier and everyone can see 
That you made me a difference 
I'm a newer person the whole way around 
I just love your presence 
That day was so wonderful you is what i found

I admit it it took along time 
To get where i am now 
You i want to forever wine and dine 
In every way i know how

I'm so beyond words it was you that walked in 
That brought such sunshine 
And such a great person to love 
I really truly thank the lord above 
That you're mine


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Let me preface this little ballad before I jabber or beguile

By saying I’m not a wine aficionado (that would be an oenophile)


But a friend saw I was writing poems that can be trite and asinine

And suggested I write about something important; her first thought, “How ‘bout wine?”


So I said, “Don’t worry Kate, a wine poem, have no fear.

After all, 31 billion bottles of the stuff are guzzled every year!


My first experience with wine was on our high school senior trip

We went to New York City where I partook of my first sip.


The next thing I knew I was waking up in an all night laundromat.

(Suffice it to say all senior trips were cancelled after that!)


I went to college in the ‘60s where drinking wine was like potluck

We drank whatever was available...with monikers like Cold Duck!


Yes my palate was honed on Boones Farm...their apple wine was sweet

Mateus Rose went with everything, and Blue Nun couldn’t be beat.


“Are you looking for something special?” the liquor store man would nag.

“No, this will do.” I’d say looking around, “just put it in the bag.”


When I graduated college my palate developed as well

I looked much more sophisticated with a glass of zinfandel.


As I moved up through the ranks of wine. I found Chardonnay- a taste of heaven

And did you know that you can purchase it at Wal-Mart or 7-11?


And I thank God every day from my head down to my socks

For creating the man who created wine that’s packaged in a box.


Speaking of God, did you know the Greeks and Romans both had Gods of wine

So from now on Dionysus and Bacchus I shall take my cue from thine.


I recently read a story where a little wine each day

Is good for your digestion and keeps heart attacks away.


If we can gain health benefits from a sip of wine...or two

Imagine what an entire bottle of Muscatel would do!


Yes, eat right and exercise may be some people’s grand design


But as for me turn on the tube, open the cheese...and oh yea...pass the wine.

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Habitual Memories (Prose)

Do you mean that it is something like the first cup of coffee in the morning?

Or maybe like the way you forget, and leave the toilet seat down after you peed all over it?

Or, no, (sorry about that) maybe just sort of like an after dinner glass of wine--you know...the one that causes you to snore on the recliner and wander off into bed without even brushing your teeth?

Or maybe like the way I used to spray every room with air freshener, even after it was cleaned, and smelled fresh?

Or could it be like the way one utensil or one glass in the sink would send you into a frenzy?

Maybe it was like a bowl of chocolate ice cream, or hair twirling?

Because, I'll just say one thing.
 I would not mind being any of the above if that were the case.

I mean that.

Even the pee on the toilet seat.

Because, when the words "bad habit" arrived at my ears, all I could think of was that,

Well, there is no way I want to be a cigarette in your memory.


© 2012