Elena wore a mourning veil of
lace,
To hide the smirk upon her
painted face.
Her husband, Julian,
vanished in the night,
Escaping debts and fading
from her sight.
She'd forged the letters,
framed a grand goodbye,
And told the town a cold and
clever lie.
Now Arthur, Julian's father,
held her hand,
The wealthiest landlord in the
valley's land.
He sought a partner for his
vast estate,
Within a month, the legal
scrolls were signed,
A pact of power, cunningly
entwined.
She held his arm, inheriting
the throne,
The grand estate was finally
her own.
But as she reached to claim
The iron key,
She saw a coldness in his
legacy.
Arthur smiled grimly,
opening the door,
To reveal the truth he'd held
in store.
He'd found the forgeries
she'd tried to hide,
And cast the deceitful bride
aside.
Oh, tales of darkened spirits,
Memories of special loves
Pass me by and free my soul,
Purge my pain from me.
Thou with thy pleasure and dreams of delight
Hast thy reasons forgotten themselves?
Hast thy shadows darkened thy own soul
And taken to mark and score
The clean days yet to appear?
Poem first published in Withering Words Magazine, 2026, all rights reserved
A Nation That Failed Its Daughters
Teach girls to cover.
Teach girls to hide.
Teach girls to shrink
while predators stride.
Lock every door.
Bolt every gate.
Still mothers whisper,
"Don't come home late."
A child learns danger
before she learns trust.
A woman learns fear
because she must.
The guilty sleep.
The wounded weep.
The silence grows
so dark, so deep.
And every headline
asks what she wore,
while evil walks
straight through the door.
Not a monster.
Not a beast.
Just filthy men
the courts released.
A stain on faith.
A stain on law.
A stain on every
silent jaw.
How many children?
How many cries?
How many graves
before truth arrives?
A nation that fears
for its daughters at night
has failed long before
it claims to be right.
Your love came at a snail’s pace
And left at a cheetah’s speed.
I thought I had healed,
Only to find myself back in trauma.
I returned to my indoor life after you left,
Solitude resting on my shoulder.
I still don’t know why you chose to abandon me
My heart still aches.
I failed
I failed
I failed
I took that pic and strummed like there’s no tomorrow
I failed
I spectacularly failed
I fell forward again only to fail to no avail
I continued to fail
I failed so badly life just smirked at me and spit
I didn’t notice
I was too busy failing
I forgot to quit
The system failed us all
But none wanna take the blame
Not even the leaders
This s makes us lame
Even when we're in our lane
Working with confident
They do negligent
Forgetting we got evident.
Instead of shutting negativity down
They wanna shut the city down
Just to perform the rituals
So they can carry out their evil acts
They keep generational wealth
But keep neglecting the people's well being.
Instead of working on the security sector
They try to bring their own setup
Giving section and sanction which is law
That only suits their insecurities
Because they know the damage they've done
The graduates have to work for illiterates
A city where the skillful and competent works for the tyrants and incompetent.
She once made a friend like no other
One she would unravel all her secrets and hard times altogether
Scribbled out in red, blue pen, black and sometimes pencil
It was a friend like no friend there ever was
Who used to catch those tears
Listen to every bit of emotion
And hearts desires bellow
My God has not failed, though the world says He has
My God has not failed, though through flames I must pass
Though grief fills my heart, I do not have despair
My Savior still loves me and hears every prayer
My God has not failed, though mere men taunt and laugh
My God has not failed on this difficult path
His Word never said I would not suffer pain
But simply that He also suffered the same
My God has not failed, though my loved one is gone
My God has not failed—He has done me no wrong
My loved one is now like a seed in the ground
Yet out of His death fruit and life shall abound
My God has not failed—He still reigns in the skies
My God has not failed, for He gives me His eyes
To see that this pain has a good end one day
To see all the blessings He leaves on my way
My God has not failed—He is still by my side
My God has not failed, neither left me nor lied
I say to these young ones, “This God is our God.
Since He is our guide, over death we have trod.”
Trudging down the same path
Present equals past
Red clay
My problems outlast
The runes have been cast
Astray
A delayed forecast
Emotion outcast
I failed
THeir plan - in each oriface pour
some Vaseline, KY and more...
with rings of the bell
they both had to yell,
"Too greasy to open the door."
I don’t dream often, but I dream of Jeanie,
the only one who ever touched my Nadi.
I met her bathing in the Irrawaddy.
You’d classify her as an in-betweenie,
but looking pretty hot in that bikini!
She got me going when she called me ‘daddy’!
Jean self-identified as “thorough baddie,”
but never let me see her Kundalini.
I couldn’t leave her working in that paddy,
so whisked her off to Venice. Like Houdini,
she made the transformation: loved linguini:
but part-time jobs (a waiter, then a caddy)
meant I could not afford her. One bellini
cost forty bucks! Forget the Lamborghini!
I tried to escape you long ago.
'Til fate set straight my own ego.
I lost the frequency long ago
At first it hadn’t seemed important
I could barely tell the difference
But once it was gone I couldn’t get it back
There was a time where that didn’t matter
Then it did
And it was too late
They tried turning the nob
Hoping the new frequency would work
But it never did
The nob would twist
Left and right
Back and forth
As they watched me like a animal
Waiting for a new reaction
I would try
Dance to the new sound
Sing the new song
It did work for a while
But the second I tired
they would turn up the volume
The seemed to think if they could drown me in the sound
I wouldn’t drown myself
the damned alarm howls at 5 a.m.
like a thirsty rabid dog in the dark.
I throw my bones into a threadbare suit,
and drag my carcass out the door.
the streetlights flicker, dying gods,
the freeway hums a tired hymn.
coffee burns my throat—
fuel for another round in the machine.
the boss with his middle fat finger,
his gold watch, his ulcer breath,
telling me I’m lucky to be here,
lucky to have this endless grind.
I move numbers, push papers,
count the hours, count the minutes,
watch the clock like a prisoner,
like a dog waiting for scraps.
lunch is a stale sandwich,
eaten under a flickering light.
I watch men in pressed suits,
laughing over steak and wine.
back to the desk, back to the screen,
back to the same dead dream.
the sun sinks, the city groans,
and I drag myself home.
a six-pack waits,
a cigarette, a sigh,
some mindless TV to fill the void.
then bed, then dark, then nothing.
the alarm I hate, howls again.
another day chewed up,
spit out,
like a lifeless roach, life is gone
The yearly line I chose to change course
is a self-afflicted wound
that bleeds each day, as I travel
the universe that spins in darkness
on its journey through the blackness of space
a second, a year, does not matter
if finding a reason to nurture my soul
comes once a year, in the form of wishes
to be met that are useless
where reason is held far beyond
the time I measure
in the lineal thread of changing light
until I measure a new year
where the seed of failure is planted once again
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