Sad Unicorn Truths

Where do you hide your unicorn when the sun is sparkling and the birds are singing;

When white rabbits dance and merrily prance;

And fill your eyes and fix your ears with future fairytale stories.

Where do you hide your unicorn when the music plays on Down The Street,

Does she fit quietly and neatly in the box on the highest shelf above your best guitars;

Is there any room in there to write her dreams, stomp a hoof, or snort softly in your company?

Where did you put the words and memories that your heart had held so safely;

Were they paper hearts that fluttered away in the wind while you focused on fleeing your Hell hounds and fears?

Do you still smell the faint notes of Chanel Mademoiselle when you close your eyes?

Do you taste the rum on her tongue which swirled devilishly to delight you?

Can you recall the intoxicating spells when your lips kissed her pure white skin from her nose to her tail;

Does your heart beat faster when you recall those nights of violent passion,

When you became enchanted by her innocence and made her yours to keep;

Slamming yourself deeper into her sea of mysteries;

Claiming a prize you knew you were both worth and deserving to know;

Tying her forever to the lure of your mischievous green eyes –

Her name there” inscribed on the flesh of your left arm…

Or so it was to be, forever and always in her every wake and her every dream.

Who was this fabled unicorn — the last of her kind, so taken by you;

She was the jewel of your life; a diamond among the stones of a broken man,

Silent and so loyal, she stayed cloaked in the moonlit shadows…

How do you forget the sweet moments of a unicorn’s love

When the force between you was so strong ,

It can only be properly penned as divine magick?

Who do you imagine will collect a fallen unicorn’s tears,

When the world has gone sideways,

And her story slowly ends

The sparkle of a legendary creature, diminished to a faint glitter

For when the heart of the hero she once roamed in no longer needed her,

She forced her way into the shadows to become little more than a glorified ghost

And when his sky fell down, he was astonished to realize:

It was the unicorn that loved him the most.


The Last Unicorn

There is a spell written in the snow on Duke Street,

For a questioning man who dwells in dark and doubt;

It lay safely hidden beneath the maple branches,

Until one day his memory surrenders there

To the softly whispered story of lost Winter kisses,

On St. Valentine’s Eves that were stolen too soon;

Each word, a glimmer in the moonlight,

Icy sparkles formed by Unicorn tears,

Composing this stark Truth inside two haunted hearts:

“We leave behind our unicorns

The ones that get away —-

But they’re never fully gone ,

They will always be here,

Roaming forever

In the grassy fields of your soul.”

(Yes. Always.)







Flowers For A Ghost

Flowers for a ghost

When I gave up hope of knowing if You still think of us,

Shadows filled my Ghosted heart and cast a sick and heavy darkness over me.

I lived my life with my hands, my heart and my face pressed against the glass;

Ever mindful of the impossible separation between what we had and what we’ve made,

Ever hopeful that somehow, someday, you would return for your lost Jewel.

I did not know it then, but I was never alone in my misery, nor was I ever to blame

You claim you were still with me always- like two white swans, floating inseparable in the dark silence.

I believed I could never dream to be whole again when I lost You from my life;

I was certain when I slammed the door shut that I would lock it tight and never open it again –

Until you re-appeared: ever charming, ever enchanting, ever attractive as Always.

And had there been more Time, you were always my Ever After…

But something wicked was written between our stars to abruptly cross out our story.

We can meet a million times over and I would not miss a chance to dance our unique song

Until then, I am the ghost Now gazing through the glass;

Spinning fantasies of what was Truth and refusing to believe in what hurts and haunts the most:

The mess becomes a Man and his Unicorn a Ghost… 

And while Knowledge, Music, Art, Culture, Ideas and Romance are finally mine again;

It is only because I can still feel you burning inside of me that I press bravely on…

Still holding tightly to these flowers for Your ghost who visits me now in wake and in dreams,

At a time when it is Impossible to Love;

… but necessary to try.

(exits stage left- slowly; towards the shadow of the Last unicorn herder.)


Liars, Betrayers & Fools


It was just a life – full of forgotten possibilities!

Rewritten for the Hopeless Romantic and designed to suspend all disbelief…

A kind of script she was too eager to accept without studying it too closely;

Lots of familiar Players commanding the stage in their clever and elaborate disguises;

They were a welcome distraction to an otherwise empty, lonely space.
Always standing face forward, always mesmerized by the bright lights;

Never focused on the cast beside her, behind her, below her??

Unaware of the growing shadows lingering at the left and the right.

She lost count of all the times there was silence where a line should have been…

Silence — another kind of answer- one that doesn’t require too much elaboration.

And while the foolish playwright scribbles recklessly on,

She holds her breath

So Desperate for an alternate ending that would explain even the comic errors

Time can’t still the story-

Love can’t clear a doubtful heart

And once the Hand reaches into a murky puddle

The Water can never be the same twice;

For there are 3 things in the world which cannot long remain hidden:

The Sun,

The Moon,

And the TRUTH.




Poetic Justice


Midnight, when the hour is darkest;

And secret things lay hidden just outside the reach of moonlight-

I find myself inexplicably wandering through the rose gardens,

Half expecting to see your ghost…

Barefoot in the wet grass, I choose the reddest bloom;

And deign to contemplate our state under the waxing moon.

Cautious not to touch the thorns, I start the telltale game-

Did we Love, or did we not? And are we still the same…

For when Karma finds two silver hearts

Unbowed, unbent, unbroken;

No doubt the Vixen dares to steal

Each truth, each word, unspoken.

-Once Known As “Beautiful”.











  • thumbnail-2.aspx


She was his heart,

He was her armor..

Each with a broken wing to hide away from the world.

And now the hunger games begin!

She was the lighthouse…

But it was he who freed her from the darkness.

She was a challenge, a delight, a mystery;

And he rose to the occasion, with wit, kiss, and charm.

She believed everything was possible

She believed he was free…

But some broken wings never fly again

When they are clipped by their keeper.

And it is a stupid, foolish, desperate heart

That chases after what runs from them;

There is no comfort in taking pleasure

From one who still belongs to someone else.

But for one perfect, stolen moment-

….she was his Jewel.


Raindrop Reverie

  • raindrops

Raindrop Reverie

The melodic drumming of the pelting raindrops
Filled my ears with their incessant chatter
Their splattered patterns forming only for an instant;
The efficient wipers smeared them into unrecognizable streaks.
Their diversity was symbolic to me—
Setting me in reflection of different moments in my life
The large fat laughing ones
Were the paths I did not follow
Which looking back now,
Perhaps I should have?


Winds of Change

Winter's Kiss

Midnight; and the daisies swoon at a zephyr’s hand;
My lover smiles to where I stand
With one hand raised to the sky
He pulls a star down from the Heavens
And he hands it to my heart to freely wish upon
Sadly I realize that all the wishes in the world
Could not compare to the fire he has already given me.


The Universal Mystery



He who knows the answers
Speak to me I pray you
Of those vast, dark expanses
Which blanket shut our skies of blue.
Speak of those uncut diamonds
Whose fired brilliance our vision cut
To pierce and play upon our eyes
And the curiousity of our continuance.

I pray you, do speak of those mysteries
Over which many men in blatant ignorance
Have tried to be the authority—
Their speculative concoctions nourishment for fool’s fancies.
When and how you deliver your wonders
My ears shall be the recipients of priceless answers.