Matters Of Love

The gates of my garden are left open to wanderers They say I’m too friendly and I shouldn’t be so trusting and that matters of love are a waste of time But that just isn’t me The roses have died and bloomed dried out been over watered and pruned too early But come spring they … More Matters Of Love

How Close

Two fingers a measure of how close or how far I’m am from checking this off as one more unfinished assignment -Saschia Johnson  


Originally posted on Charmed Chaos:
I am the restless ocean, you a tempest storm churning our waters into a whirlwind of wants plunging us into murky depths of desire where we linger, and soon surrender to that which our fates have conspired. The ocean, the storm, water with no form, when you taste salty sweat…


Some whiskey in a glass I want to drink it but my belly hurts There’s world issues And positive thoughts Out there But it just hurts to smile Secrets or not Quitting is nipping at my heels Have a drink with me Let me forget for moment This up-hill battle Only i won’t because How … More Sad

not my business

is she black  no she’s ⊕ white   is she loved by any other than the one that’s love is pure ? it holds her down *it- a woman, not a companion Because companions required the stuff she didn’t have to give she buried them along with pure love in a grave   *it held … More not my business

Painting Nature

Gold paint was left unopened beneath the microwave Butter knife around the edges to release the magic What shall I paint? To My dismay the purple roses I planted for my grandmother have turned pink do they no longer honor her Will they bloom again this spring? Past the roses are dandelions past the dandelions … More Painting Nature

Jam Jars

There was this world my escape but the demand for my attention was too great fantasies nudged me awake all hours the picturesque garden and nipping faries and the words they poisoned my proper shapes in such a fantastic way in a way hope was made toxic And so I tilled but not for long … More Jam Jars

I kept him sacred

I circled him finding his flaws In every inch of my poetry I don’t touch him because he’s my own sacred shrine untouched by human artists Untouched by the words of man Only to be described in silence by the divine Whether you believe in that type of thing or not he’ll tell you to … More I kept him sacred