•October 19, 2016 • 7 Comments


Mixed media / August 2016

Cyanide & Cherries in October

•October 15, 2016 • 6 Comments

Greetings everyone!

Cyanide & Cherries Poetry Book

Just a quick notice that my poetry book “Colour Me In Cyanide & Cherries” will be on discount for the remaining time of October!

If you click on the cover, you will be taken right where the book is at.

Thank you for your time and have a wonderful Autumn!

Her name was Vatra

•October 13, 2016 • 2 Comments


*Image found HERE

Her name was Vatra

She was burning;
like tobacco in a modern art museum,
as a dragonfly strips its wings
screaming beneath a wolf-head totem,
her pulse against the cold door
of a corner dollar store.
She was burning
like rain could know no other arch nemesis,
burning like a fever
of torrents transplant inside begonias,
burning, her fingers like vignette
of dogs allergic to moonlight,
her sweaty brow against
the million limbs of corroded gods;
she was burning
like a deer courting wildfires,
her torso like a pyre
versus the kids who gather to roast marshmallows,
clumsy and ancient,
her mouth a lit matchbox
against the geometries of metros,
she was burning,
keeping the blood of lacerated dryads warm,
her arms like witchcraft
juxtaposed to shades of blue,
burning like Marlboro
between the fingers of delinquents,
her hair like a Molotov of summers
bribed with moonshine.

I tell her the sky is eaten up,
we are re-made from smoke,
our oceans are kerosene,
igniting our bones to burn for nothing.

She was burning,
her eyes flints of fossil hearts,
expired honeydew,
like lanterns wailing for the tummy of the whale,
like lights in bedrooms past 3 a.m.,
like candles dripping over graves,
she was burning and just said
“I know.”


*”Vatra” is Fire on Serbian

The Forever Season

•October 12, 2016 • Leave a Comment


Mixed media / August 2016

The title was inspired by the lyrics of one of Acid Bath’s songs, going:”Winter is the forever season….”

This piece, visibly, follows my fascination with the color and concept duality of red and blue.

Undressing of Autumn

•October 9, 2016 • 6 Comments


*Image found HERE

Undressing of Autumn

In the magpie hour
I am myself,
when screeches are hymns,
an orchestra in a pocketful of train tickets;
myself thinks I must belong
in the chorus of gold,
wrapping the poplars,
the palms growing candied corn,
glazing the wounds with sugar-
daughters of the Sun,
pale roses atop a stillborn pedigree,
the creed of a birdcage.
The ruins build Light
in the dusk, the church bells are ringing
and there is demand for love.

I count those who left,
I pull black ink
across the squares of the calendars,
yellow like curves
neither sweet nor sour,
red like lipstick on a graveyard,
unawares squares, slurping bleak faces,
bleeding macchiato;
sometimes I cut, sometimes I butcher.

The pearls hang low on heaven’s ceilings,
those wombs of sweet nothings
inert above the velvet nightmares;
patterns of our hands
teaching the river to words.
They do not suspend for myself,
they do not adorn
a guttersnipe, myself
who brawls against the simple lie of innocence;
my father, the flotsam king,
turns living rooms to dead forests
that worship beauty with teeth;
like me.

Our hearts are ours, but our hours
are for birds,
our grave is old but feathery and soft
and we never sleep,
we demand and decipher
and October is sometimes red
like the cheeks of a sorrow-eater,
well-meaning suburban girl,
sometimes brown
like the wet dirt
of abandoned gardens,
The wind
sings with the fallen,
the lungs are swollen from the cities
that we swallowed,
The matriarch
eternally ripe
unzips at the back
to shed a rain of oranges;
The Moon
a Crow’s mile,
my soul and the darkness
meeting half way.

*Inspired by Wordle at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.


•October 5, 2016 • 19 Comments



Mixed media/ August 2016.

For a while, I wanted to explore and combine my loves for double exposure photography and collage, and this was the result.

As for its title, I have my husband to thank for it. He told me “Go make something!”, I asked “What should I make?” and he replied with “Anything”. I went and made this artwork, hence its title.

I have also shared this on my Society6 page, feel free to check it out!

Tell me what you think!

I am sharing this for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie: Photo prompt for this week.

A Tale of Apples

•October 1, 2016 • 18 Comments


*Image found HERE


A Tale of Apples

You know the truth, sugar;
the spring of me
is nothing but bleeding skies,
syrup over wounded layovers.

To put it simply
it is a thin circle
with a red wildheart in.

Your father is sleeping,
Eve, you and me.
Date. Now.
Under the apple tree.

All will worship.
All will beg.
Tooth and claw.
Tooth and claw.
(it is how apple trees are born)

My acquaintance says
love is an oratorio
of noise and silence
in a theater of cashmere,
fleeing from Autumn.
I reply love is disagreeing
and sharing apple pie.

The willow is yawning
under the setting sun,
I pay 2 euros and 33 cents
to watch your puckered lips
bite into October.

You idiots, the jewels are for chewing!
Emerald, ruby, pyrite, opal.
Hanging like tears.
You idiots, the jewels are for chewing!

And when you are most alive,
we will lay you down on a silver casket,
we will smother you with souvenirs
made of lights and shadows,
paint you as you’re heaving,
commemorate your death.

Valley, take heed,
the cider is heavy
with too much innocent dreams.
A rivulet goes through cheap cotton,
my blouse soaked, my touch fermenting,
my body pinned to the grass
by the weight of my grandmother’s life
that I have yet to live.

Have you seen her suck
the marrow of a Calville blanc d’hiver
that’s how I wanna hurt!

The lovers are many,
your skin is few.
Names and glue.
Names and glue.

I will eat you,
I will leave your mother
bereft of an orchard.
I will love.

I like to believe that
all that is good of me
will be diced and stirred
in caramel,
seasoned with cinnamon.
That my boneless house is marmalade
and it sticks
to the smiles of the children,
as everything atones
to either lust or rest.
I will wait too long.

*Written for a prompt at dVerse, hosted by Björn. I think I missed the point, but I am grateful for the inspiration and am looking forward to reading other entries which hit the mark better. I find it hard to distance myself from abstractions and allusions when writing, hence why this prompt was very challenging for me.

Chimera Poetry

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.” ~ Roald Dahl

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" I should have stayed with God." (Jeffrey Dahmer)

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