Vacant

Satan visited today, a mind empty
is his playground. He moved through
my veins to the heart, beating faster
with every word he licked my wounds.
You are right innocent child,
a burden. I created a monster,
a being like no other. Chanting
away in the middle of darkness,
sobbing.
Take away the pain, devil, I beg of you.
Pray to me child? No, night should
fade, rising light will be bestrode
across me.
When the sun hits you, I′ll still
be there, watching you, twirling
in your memory, a workshop
of my deeds. You conceived me.

Deidre Grotbo

Mask

The thumbnail moon hangs low tonight,
raccoons visit me during the dark times.
Their black masks fit me well, hauntingly
enough.
Silence tattoos the forbidden fruit as weeping
serpents give up on their dream. Hour glasses
turn over and pieces evil scatters across
jigsaw puzzle.
Cacti stands tall, their thorns pierce
my innocence. I slithering past, walking
into the desert. Head bowed, the snakes
follow me.

Deidre Grotbo

Thunder

I flip through the torn pages of January.
Shaking, my hands reach, aching
for warmth. The sun glares and turns
his back.
Breezes make the palms sway,
tired eyes scan the murder scene.
I sketch the criminal. Feeling
venerable, I cross my arms and leave.
Shadows cast, my running eyeliner
marks me, broken. Bright patterns
of dusk stretch among the rooted waters.
I fall to my knees, submerging cuts
and bruises into salt, I curl my fists
in defeat. Beauty dies down to sand,
brushed away.

Deidre Grotbo

The Stirring of Hope and Spells

Violently it mixes the creation,
brewing an exile of craziness,
leaning on a witching life.
I cry, missing innocence.
Burning at a stake, a stake
of truth and common sense.
Only cob webs stretch along
windows, eyes drenched
in rain drops. Aroma steams
from the boil, revealing
loneliness, abandonment,
hatred. A candle is blown
out as the craft is done,
just as the spell. Sprits
rise to the clouds, turning
white, longing to be as black
as thunder.

Deidre Grotbo

The Middle of Summer

Burning ash settles,
sticks in my lungs
like grass stains.
Thorns peel away
the skin of my feet,
water flowing across
a rough stage.
I move closer,
beneath canvas
blocking the sun.
Like a statue
I'm solid,
pure and alone.
A frenzy of flowers
clash into bloom.

Deidre Grotbo

Praying

I open scars, red skin
bleeding. Sinfully I caress
the hatred, slowly touching
pale skin. I will never understand.
Grasping the candle,
the donation box, empty,
I add my 25 cents.
Charging for a miracle seems odd.
I kneel and open my hands,
raise my head, looking
for and answer in the light
and stained glass.

Deidre Grotbo

Numbers

A figure struts in front of boundaries,
mocking my illusion. A sum
of nightmares, dividing my life
and my death.
A character leaps behind statistics,
whispering the estimated time.
Signs of uncontrollable thoughts
symbols of enduring pain.
Guilty decimals cycle around
a loss hope of fear, happiness,
or forgiveness. The digits remain,
all equaling one.

Deidre Grotbo

Little Girl

Glass separates a past
and me, through stains
and blue tints. Worlds
and stars have moved
around me. I care about
those times. A never ending
cycle of life and death,
whispers to me. Need
a night-light to keep my
monsters from coming
out of my closets. Hatred
destroys my old photographs,
drowning these thoughts of her.

Deidre Grotbo

Changes

You make me open scars,
rugged red skin, bleeding.
Flames lick my fingertips,
the pain eases over my mind
as I laugh at the sight of you.
Reflections. Illegally I caress
the hatred, slowly touching
porcelain skin. I will never
know reality. I get on my knees
and open my hands. Grasping
the candle, donation box is empty.
I add my 25 cents, charging
for a miracle seems odd. I raise
my head, looking for answers
in the light and mirrors.

Deidre Grotbo

I Shall Repeat

Doubtful, like coffee without cream,
doubtful, like a beer without foam,
doubtful, like a pen without ink,
doubtful, like a book without paper.
Scream, like a lenses without glass,
scream, like pigtails without hair
scream, like jumping without rope,
scream, like time without a clock.
Pray, like buttons without thread
pray, like words without letters,
pray, like a name without persons,
pray, like a picture without images.
Love, like everybody won’t,
love, like I would give up the world,
love, like crying in a dial tone,
love, like lips whispering your name.

Deidre Grotbo

Haggard Pencils

Black led marks me
as my atmosphere crashes
into numerous twinkling
specs. My head hits the desk,
tainted feelings of tiredness
mixed with fear. My stomach
churns with thoughts of giving
up. Murmurs of life silence
and the lecture is muted. I hunger
for relief, for an opportunity
of ten minutes without hovering
eyes and hand slamming attention
grabbers. My head bobs up
and down, my eyes pray
to stay open, it’s just too much
work to sleep in class.
Deidre Grotbo

Cones

Palm trees dance together,
long thin trunks sway. 
I, the bushy pine stand
in the distance watching.
I’m jealous of them.
So envious, I’m close
to hate. Betrayed. Surviving,
yet they are so high, looking
down upon me. The stress
is ripping my branches apart,
making me hang lower
then even I expected. My
roots clench as the sawyer cuts.
Timber!

Deidre Grotbo

Beauty and Razors

Cracked, unhealed, broken
pieces spread across a floor,
my statue. Disgraced goddess,
the medication nicks my arms.
Pretty lips and raining tears,
I’m already forgiven and I’ve
left. As the clouds cast hatred
and the rose petals fade I draw
my curtain. I sip on poison,
my mind fades to an insomnious
black. Let me turn off the light,
so the feeling of comfort induces
souls. Unreachable, erase blood
and scars, splattered skin to make
a perfect sculpture in the dark.

Deidre Grotbo

Blessed Insomnia

I stare at the clothes on the floor,
crumpled in a ball. The news
clicks on. People in foreign
countries kill each other.

Breath the fire of love chokes me,
the mirror glaring into my
own scarred soul.

Rolling tears sting my dry lips.
I fall into my blanket, cover
my body. Guilt stops my new heart;
I scratch away the pain.

Deidre Grotbo

Born in the Petals of a Rose

Verse 1
Sun sets in your hair,
pierced lip sings a song of a revolution.
The artist, I will call you.
Drawing pictures of goddess and gods.
Kurt and Angelina’s lover,
husband and wife all together.
And you scream,

Chorus
Angels exist, born in the petals of a rose.
Angels exist, flying high above us.
I will miss you Angel, and your smile.
Angels exist…

Verse 2
Pagan sign hangs on your neck,
magick in one green eye, one blue.
Daring and spontaneous woman,
writing of past lives,
standing up for what you believe in.
Laughing out loud,
making no sense to anybody, except your heart.
And I whisper…

Chorus
Angels exist, born in the petals of a rose.
Angels exist, flying high above us.
I will miss you Angel, and your smile.
Angels exist… tattooed on your ankle.
I will miss you Angel,
farewell until we meet again.

Deidre Grotbo

Average Nights

The clock screams only at night,

tick, tick, tick, tick, 1:00 am.

Yawn, reach for the light, click.

The chain taps agents the glass,

ting, ting, ting.

Insomnia wilts slowly, until

paranoia seeps in. Did I lock

the door? Yes. No. Maybe?

Reach for the light, click.

The chain taps agents the glass,

ting, ting, ting. Crawl out of bed.

The footsteps echo through the hall,

boom, boom, boom, boom. Darkness,

feel the door. Locked.

Footsteps echo through the hall,

boom, boom, boom, boom. Climb

into bed, cover up.

Reach for the light, click.

The chain taps agents the glass,

ting, ting, ting.

The clock only screams at night,

tick, tick, tick, tick, 1:30 am.

Insomnia again wilts slowly,

until another rush of paranoia,

Are you sure the door is lock?

Deidre Grotbo

A letter to the cavity of life.

Dear Mr. Blue Funk,

You are creating an obstacle

of unrealism and destruction.

Not only harming my family

but myself. Lies, not white

but dark, almost black. Some

days my fingernails ache

with pain that you mark me,

like a red stain on a white dress,

everyone sees and knows. You

circle around me like merry-

go-round, mocking me. I try to lose

you, ignore you, but you stalk

my mind. I confront you, petrified

terrified. Living through scars,

I remember only being hopeless.

Deidre Grotbo

Round & Round

I want to scratch my eyes out,

I don’t want to see the pain I cause.

Drift away to another place would

be too easy on me. I need to suffer,

the licking of agony. The mirror says

pretty child be selfish and proud.

I break the glass and cut my flesh.

Jealousy runs the merry-go-round

I ride. Yelling to stop the ride,

the conductor speeds it up, like

looking over a cliff, the Grand Canyon

has nothing to compare, I jump.

The happy music fades into my screams

of help, I hit the rock bottom.

Deidre Grotbo

Sad Song in Daytona

(Part 1)

The devil visited again today,

he made me ill. Anger flew

from my tongue, as he provoked

me in a sweet whisper. The green

in my eyes darkened like a forest

at sunset. He stroked my hair,

and I slowly cried. I tossed

the bile that he gagged me with.

I begged him to stop, stop tempting

me with rage. My apologies went unheard,

ignored from my love. The devil is that thin

line that I would hate to cross. Someone

save me, from myself.

Deidre Grotbo