I curse the ruse
used as a noose,
and pretend I’m not
in love with you.

The Mardi Gras queen
of New Orleans
licks her lips
larruping clean;
freshly feasted
from a blood donor’s dream.

The once-private public arena
becomes an international hunting ground,
as sportsmanship has never been
the strong suit
of opprobrious parrots
who drop trow from soapboxes.

‘Veni vidi vici’
The bluejay tweeted me.
You watch me watching her –
Father pours the tea.

Before Summer kicked the bucket, Shepherd had intended to leave an absent goodbye hanging on the dotted clothesline to signify his momentary departure, and adopt the moldering stench of damp-dryer abandonment to disguise his scent…but he misplaced the carrion-pelt of buzzwords meant to appease the vultures who guarded their master’s modus operandi; and wound up crying […]

I wanted to believe in you
From the moment I laid eyes on you
Though my heart tried to stop me
It failed to keep its chains around me

Warning: the following piece contains violence and strong language. Reader discretion is advised. Roderick, You are a terrible listener. I already told you — there exists zero chance of your regaining my favor. To state the obvious: I’ve never trusted you, and now I never will. Weep if you must, but I’m already onto your […]

Note: if you prefer reading to listening, I’ve posted the words below the audio. “Trespass” © Jane Bled 2016-2017 All Rights Reserved. *** I can take your time tonight. Beneath scarlet shades Of tasseled smoke; Past curtains of crowned pearls, Nestled against threshed-grain curls, Spattered in sanguine sentiments, Curves call greeting to Impertinence — Loosening […]

FWOOT! Compulsive insta-share FTW. Poet Vixen knows & speaks her mind. Love the tone, the flow, the message…love everything about this piece! 😻 Hell yes to the dress, if that’s what she chooses to wear — and hell no to the bros who think “woman” is a synonym for “silent smiling bang-able doormat.” I’m “advised” […]

My grandee wears
Next to nothing,
Or even less;
Just his crooked halo
Of crowned thorns
And deep regrets.

I took my stand In the backseat of Dad’s jalopy. I told that boy To don a glove Before he popped me. I demanded a ransom To replace my Hanson CD– The one he downloaded for free. He claimed the band was lame, but Taylor’s printed face Bore a strange new stain. He told me […]

I have no idea how he folded that sheet of notebook paper so small. Teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy, pocket-sized pleading: “Like me back!” He slipped it between the locker slits So all the hand-heart drawn carriages Could stop to stay; Until I graced the gentleman With a grateful smile As he opened the door for me… 🙂 […]

Reels spin… Light-year hearts leap Into lachrymose pools Infested by choir-serpents. Confessional urge outweighs choice. Tight-end or wide receiver? Doesn’t really matter, either. The transmutation of told truth: Transformation by blind faith — Believers need not apply. *** “Told” © Jane Bled 2016-2017 All Rights Reserved. During a late-summer soujourn in Montecatini Terme, Italy, my […]

Not for me to decide
if she tastes mighty fine
crisscross the cost
the cause will unbind
ringer tan lines
rigged trigger rewinds
it figures in rhyme

Water: a dipperful to soothe lips aching from absent kiss-prints, arms in need of a mirror to break without shattering, the slight frisson of skin-slip in place of pestilent longing. Were the Great Lakes bearers of secluded messages, ere errors encompassed logarithms of uncaught fish…! They dash along a rocky coastline, bracing for the deep […]

hussy skirt
tighter than my
tummy tucked in

He eats pages of hate,
spits out chewed-up rage,
true persona, encaged,
enacted in an empty mask,
feeding off needy knee-jerk reactions,
and pitiful distractions.

*sighs* But the glitter-strewn, Liquid-nightmare sky Held too many pitcherfuls Of foul grief To waste corroded, Scintillating, Nascent dawn-tongue On lynch mob camaraderie (Not all cracks warrant deeper penetration). The solar system’s pawn, Strung along twinkling Christmas lights, Would yet echo the pang of loss In the felling of the knight; Strategic word placements Adding […]

When I’m by myself I’m never alone because obsessive thinking’s got my back (right hand’s got my front).

I’m tied to these threadbare sheets
unmoving in my grief
as denial gives way to doubt
and I have to face the fact
my bed feels better empty

Within a latibule of undiscovered hours, time does not wait — it waves.