Sunday, September 20, 2015


icicle crystals
cut like a thistle
on my skin when I sat down
500 miles
away from town
yes, and just like they sang
there's not a shirt on my back
not a penny to my name
and now i understand
the lack
and now
the tears fall
in vain
they do fall
my pain
they do fall
with the emptiness
as I crawl
into this shack ...

with my
shivering skin
blue from the rain
it hits and slides
can't even grip
this cane
can't even grip
the pain
in my
and I'm to blame
yes the one to blame is

i have only myself
to blame
when i took the hard way and
wasted away
so far away
from the dawn of day
from the home i loved
like she said while waiting
for the train
as she wore her bolshevik glove
like this, i ran away to the barracks
for what purpose
and for who
i didn't think i was worthy to do
what lives deepest ...
i had to fight and prove

because i didn't know
if i was true enough
kamikaze piloting
to show i was tough
and now is it too late
'cause i'm torn up in rage
but too weak to express
in this cage
that is my body
so few noticed
when i waved
in the lobby
forsaken, heartbroken
i don't know how i'll fare
i don't feel hope
in this cold, desolate air
shivering in the shack
not even near the train track
even clothing i lack
as i fade away
so black
is the night
so bleak
in this shack  ...

Friday, September 18, 2015

Lying seeds

broken glass
of a soaking jar
never got that far
not quite up to par
beckoned by
the wrong seed
to soak
to breed
'twas the wrong order, see
the wrong angle
to heed
like the watch ticking
in the drawer unsorted
in the dishevelled
it be
and atop there was
the jar
of seeds
failing to sprout
with the desperate pixie
welling up in a pout
for not soaking
the right seeds
fruition doth
and nutrition
out the door
with the breeze
then the rageful
angry screams
shatter the jar
with the seeds
and the pixie
fell to her knees
with the tears
of the tease
of those damn
lying seeds!

- R.W.G

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Sweet as cherry pie

by and by
sweet as cherry pie
as it curdles in the soul
as it rolls 
sly ...

on your tongue
so tart
better than kitschy art 
better than saying goodbye
so you stay 
warm and dry
with the cherry pie 
which you know
will be wry ...

though it's wrought
while it rots
deeper and deeper

while the silky, fluffy clouds
dress suspension of time
with a layer of
for the rhyme
and the meaning
in the wind chimes 
that whisper
with the plight
that whisper in
the morning -
in the morning of the night ...

and as the clock ticks well beyond
there's the tartness on your plate
but alas it's like fish bait
for the discordance
of late, 
unto late
unto late
until its' too late

and the fog that fails to lift
in the dauntingly, naively
hopeful abyss
you know something is amiss
throw the plate 
throw the fork
in this
for it really isn't bliss
no it really isn't bliss ...

no, not cherry pie
full of cheap whey
full of dye
that ladens over
for in which
under you lie

but it must be where you lay
get up and
get away 
reach with inner foundation
for a different kind 
of day
for a different kind
of way

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Drawn In The Tiles 2

(this is the sequel to Drawn In The Tiles, a poem I wrote about North Korea, from Heart of a Womanchild

The tiles
are broken
with truth
so long unspoken
trapped beneath
a hidden

is the pain of real
human beings
living in multi

forgotten they are
as it seems
though so desperate
for liberation

but with no end in sight
and in dismal isolation ...

That is
until a brave few
speak out
of the real agonies ..
of an unspeakable drought
the living the horrors of many

duct tapes' over their mouths
like a frozen ill at ease
smile of desperate
for if not one will
be seized

imagine living
in constant dread
to show human feelings
obvious to be had
when one's being abused
and ordered to be glad
amongst not only sad
but stark raving mad ...

there is nothing more oppressive
there is nothing more sickening
there is nothing more vile
than the truth
drawn in the tiles

Suspended in the lane

Edge of pain
uncertain rain
pounding on the windows
in the devoid
in disdain
and bewilderment
of conclusion
in the lane
in between
the park
and pain

-N.M. Rose Guedes

Saturday, September 12, 2015

No More Categories !

Have you ever considered that
more than one answer may be true
Yes and No
Don't and Do ...

Have you ever thought someone can be
both good and bad
and happy and sad
and sane and mad
and a lot
and a tad ...

Or do you have to shove them in
a place
to put them in
a fixed-in space ..

well you cannot
do that to me
I will not be
what you say
I be

I will not be
either good or bad
or right or wrong
or happy or sad

I will be multi-faceted
No more

I will be whole
I will be Free
I will be natural

Rosie @ 

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Tree Bark

Tree bark
don't bark up
the wrong tree

isn't that what you are made of?
as I say ...
Tee hee hee hee!

'cause you don't make any sense
I thought you a little dense
'til I realized it was simple
like a warm September breeze

quit the tease
of your childish summer swing
it's autumn now
so let us bring

all the spiced apples
and cold, damp rain
better start gearing up for
all the cold, damp pain
and the shivering unto
let the bone broth steep
despite the schism
of the pattern
of the seam
of the radar
of the gleam

and if you wanna blow off steam ,,,
don't go barking up this tree
settle down and come to be
with the water, of the tea

of the bark that is
the tree.

Raven waves

Black night
raven waves
then turns her back -
back into the shadowed cave
a longer fallow
on the wave
of gating down
on me
until my grave
and maybe you'll miss me then
but you don't understand
and it drums my heart of scars
if i let it this notion in

Pain aside
there are other ways
i don't even need
the deepest love
that i crave
if I can be brave
and believe
when raven waves
i don't need to chase
i have spirit
to embrace