Sign Language: Talking to God


If I could talk to God on a misty morning,
I would remind him that humans are beautiful
and blind and deaf to the perfection of ourselves.

I would beg him for a sign, a language, sign language
to help us remember what our heart cries daily.
We could communicate the intangibles with curled fingers.

I would not ask for peace, or love, or money but understanding.
I would not ask to see or hear because sometimes the truth is bitter
I would ask only for a sign. A language to filter our spirits.

Tummy Rot


My stomach is sick,

and rotting

In my mind’s eye it pulses green

A putrid pain color

And turns somersaults

through thick molasses

Grinding up against the walls of my heart

My heart doesn’t break,

My stomach rots

Random Internet Writing Prompt: Hell Found Me.


        Hell found me. Well, I have to admit it probably wasn’t that hard. I mean, I have been following her around. Hannabelle, that is. Otherwise known as hell. 

        I’m a PK (preachers kid) and she is the daughter of the devil. Ok, so her dad doesn’t have horns or anything. He’s actually a very respectable member of the community. Problem is he’s an atheist.

        I remember the first words she said to me. The day was beautiful and the air smelled faintly of roses and jasmine and the birds sang harmoniously in the trees. Actually they probably didn’t but hindsight has a way of painting this rosy hue on perfect days.

        “Hi” she said as she walked by me in the hallway. (Yea, we were inside which is why I’m unsure about the harmony of the bird’s singing). “Mr. Scotch said we are supposed to be partners blah blah blah blah”

         The words faded as the image of our wedding day popped in my mind and I could here Mr. Scotch ask “Do you take this delightfully delicious cocoa colored priceless peach of a sexy girl to be your partner?”

         “I do!’ I exclaimed in my daydream. The confused look on her beautiful face snapped me back to reality and I realized I may have spoken out loud. She laughed then, a joyous trill of pure…purity and I could here the crackle of Hell’s fires and the cackle of the demons in her voice. That laugh made me think thoughts that would give my pastor a heart attack if I confessed.  

          She flipped her hair back and it shimmered in the sunlight (again we were inside so probably not) and I swear I could here the devil whispering in my ears. She spoke words I couldn’t here over the pounding of my body cause hearts can’t make that sound and then casually grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her desk. She plopped down on the seat and let go of my hand before I prove that spontaneous combustion is a reality and pulled out her notebook. Waving her elegant fingers through the air like a conductor more words poured out her mouth like a molten stream. Each note of her husky voice stroking my ear canal and dancing a tango in the pleasure center of my brain. 

         She paused and looked at me questioningly and I gathered enough wits to plaster a grin on my face and nod. She smiled and my heart skipped a beat. I think, I wasn’t really counting. But to make the story short. She looked at me with those brilliant green eyes and asked me if I wanted to come over to her house tonight.

          And that is how Hell found me and I lost my…oh wait…Do you think she meant to work on the assignment?