I lay in the impression your body once made in

our bed and wonder how long the pillow

will remain warm.

Silence only makes me hear you more, the

dark weight of the hours dragging behind me

as I pray to an altar built on the edge of my

despair.

Like a mad woman staring into her secrets, I

reach for you through the shadows wondering

how long I will remain a hope junkie.

The slam of the door doesn’t abate my hunger

for you, the veil on your lips now silent

follows my weariness, an infinite ache of alone.

Living becomes a stranger as I cling to remembering

what day it used to be. Your body a river, my addiction

that still yearns for a drink.

A desperate plea that falls on deaf ears makes it

clear to see when you left you administered the lash,

and I ended up eating the bitter bread of banishment.

paulygrl ©

Respected skald of sorcery spills 

words from her mouth, bone dancer

who suckles to an overflow of spells.

Her soft-bellied chant takes me to the

edge of darkness, avoiding vat of carrion,

foul stench of once alive.

I shivered in my flesh to that internal indenture,

calling up a deal with the devil, trying to

mitigate my sins.

I ponder whether to clothe old bones with new

flesh, but when I look for mother-of-pearl,

what stares back are ancient, blue-veined

hands.

As the benefactor of my own life I’ve resided

to go to hell my way, because soon

enough I’ll come to know to die is different

from what anyone supposes.

paulygrl ©

Curious glances peer up her thigh like the

quick of a ghost tornado. Her hips arouse

desire and vex enough that he would gladly

exchange a bourbon for a kiss.

Her lamp lit so he can see her face ignite his

lust, letting his blood for whores to drink.

He gazes in need through her open robe of gauze,

his entry a non-negotiable brusqueness.

Afterwards sweat nourishes a nameless bed,

a wanton shivering in his flesh. The dying strains

of a back door woman taunt him to turn out his

pockets every time.

paulygrl ©

Living in Las Vegas most of my life feeling the flavor of the town comes easy. Here I write about well-orchestrated deception and about the poor suckers that get taken at the tables every time.

Whales are high rollers.

Green felt altars are the gambling tables.

Taking the Slave

Streets of neon city, disguises color many

coats. Store front pseudo pastors vie quick

redemption, wedding chapel fantasy betroth to

those devote.

Casinos’ bright lights distraction cacophony

blares revelry to stay. Drinks run free, voices

full of money lure the weak to play.

Million dollar credit lines favor ability of the game,

raw edge of humanity devours corrupt bones,

losers get lost just the same.

Whales feed off green felt altars, anti-climatic

wage of chance, bet it all on a quarrel of knives,

thrills atop a champagne trance.

Old magic, new money, mystique wreaks betrayal

for to blame, built on bandy-legged dreams that

cuts deep furrows in your shame.

Destination city, deception wears another’s face,

greed the intimate long shot, grist for low-ball

poker and baccarat high stakes.

paulygrl ©

Greetings this new day...

There's times when my writing takes me to a place where I conjure pensive thoughts. I love to write of the spiritual, things that make you think so you will find  a lot of that here. Ever hear of Patron saints? Yes, they do exist, even if in our own psyche. I prefer to think they are real.

Patron saints are  chosen as special protectors or guardians over various areas of our life. Early data shows that people were named after apostles and martyrs as  early as the fourth century.

Popes have named Patron saints but patrons can be chosen by other individuals as well. Patron saints are often chosen because of an interest, talent, or event in their lives.

For example, Francis of Assisi loved  nature and so he is patron of ecologists. Francis de Sales was a scribe so he became  patron of journalists and writers, one of my favorites, of course.

Angels can also be named as patron saints as well. A Patron saint can help us when we follow the example of that saint's life and when we look for that saint's intercessory path to God.

Come back soon to see what I will add to what I call Saints, angels and sinners, oh my!

~ peace

paulygrl