The moon the sky
Have I heard her song
Is the tune my own
The lyrics circle my car
Echoes of ghosts
ask if I’ve eaten
They take my hand
and offer me raw honey
The bees vibrations buzz around me
Do I have to ask if they’ll sting?
Damaged
Years pass by
mouths clamped shut
raw meat rotting
beneath crisp white sheets
A metallic bird squawks
Cawing cawing at the window panes
but no one let’s him in.
-Saschia
For me for you
Funny thing about writing is
you do it for yourself to feel better
hoping it might make somebody else
feel too
They Collide
here we go again
the fight
a dream or two
colliding
my knees ache
my legs are restless
but these dreams they tug
and they pull
they tell me they’re waiting
and let me tell ya
they’re getting impatient
and it’s making my pits sweat
Farm Land
A farm land churned
and over cropped
Fruits of labor plucked year to year
I have no regrets
I’ve fed and nurtured
new life I’ve cradled vulnerable
seedlings not yet ready for the rays
of light that
brighten and burn
Tucked away silent inside
warm dark loved
A symbolic womb with a pulse
pulse pulse
-Saschia
Merry Christmas
Love, peace and prosperity to all
-Saschia
Tacos
I’ve stuffed myself full of tacos
And queso
And guacamole with chips
Now I feel like a potato
And my creativity got
Stiffed
But the tacos were so good
And look I still wrote a poem
-Saschia
Symbols- revisited
She asks for symbols
while I doodle
stars and hearts in blue ink
across the top of a blank page
Maybe I don’t get it, Professor
Maybe I never will
I’m on to circles and squares
Images of old Egyptian
pillars appear
containing hieroglyphs
with no meaning
Evoke the imagination
She voices
before putting her head
back down
Semi circles and unfinished squares
dotted like a Morse code
have been placed
with no meaning
Dotted with intent
but no definition
What is this place where
I feel the depth
of each
meaningless symbol?
-Saschia
Omw
Guide me to a place of strategy.
Draw me a map in color with a key
Send me blueprints of the vessel I should build
I will build and explore
and search for what becomes of it all
-Saschia
Bleached
I didn’t think much today
Just cleaned with a lotta bleach
Maybe I inhaled too much
Maybe it cleansed my thoughts
right outta me
At least the bathrooms clean
Just wish I had more to write.
-Saschia
Jayne.press 