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Showing posts from March, 2011

Final Abortion

I am locked away in her flesh,
a womb of ending.
She brought me forth,
but not with intent.

I dare not call her Mommy.
Assassin is more suitable.
Her eyes are bleached.
I have her bleached eyes, I inherit these.

I encounter
the professionalism of his plastic gloves,
he pulls and cuts and replies,

“It is finished.”

Piano's Soul

You are black and you are white.
I run my fingers across you.
I remember our first love affair.
Piano, you ghost.
Piano, you demon.
You have such potential and you still collect dust.

You are black and you are white.
I pound on your fragile state.
I force a sound out of ivory and hidden strings.
Piano, you beast.
Piano, you ox.
You do what I tell you, whenever I want.

You are black and you are white.
I will leave you to soak in silence.
I will laugh at your soul, which I give and take.
Piano, you treasure.
Piano, you bed.
I will long for you another day.


I start in the illusive wonder-
will He come?
I stare at the ceiling, wishing it was a night sky with violent stars.
I wrap my fingers, like a child is taught.
I try to wispher, but fear the God of heaven can't hear.
So I yell,
I scream,
I pound,
and I wake myself up to a hidden reality.
He is resting inside me.


These words are not destined for men's lips.
These words are not made for women's fancy ears.
These words are not created for you or the other.
These words are not even sold for me.
These words are for

Elder Anger

There is a beast that roams my town.
During all our gossip and hometown games,
there is a man in the bleachers unwilling to grow old.

He sneers at the cheerleaders for their provocative innocence.
He disgraces the point guard when he misses the easy shot.
He hates the fans who paint letters on their shirts.
He disagrees with the referee's call.
He considers yelling at the top of his lungs
and telling the world to go to hell.

Because with all the hype, he still loses his wife
to old age.
However, to know his soul,
you must be white and play ball.

Abrubtly, a cheerleader shoots a three pointer.
She fails to see the old man (on the bleachers) who hates the world.
Her flirty stare grows as the crowd cheers.
It will kill his wisdom,
remind him of a wife lost.

I Have Teeth

Inspired by the series Twilight

I have teeth.
They broke the gum when I was young.

Now they bite and rattle when I laugh.
They are white until browned by time.

I have teeth
to eat food
to tear
to manipulate my voice.

I have teeth: baby, sharp, wisdom.
I have teeth that bite and draw blood.

They start white and then fall out.

Nature, How You Fool

How you tempt us nature; how you laugh.

How you toss the soul; how you cover the grass.
Winter covers the intelligence of fertile fields and men's graves.
This fickle miracle, we have immortalized dirt.

How we worship you as a god
while you, the predator, drown us.

Nature you are against man,
or is it the nature of man to destroy?

Who is the King?
Who is the Queen?
Who is nature’s heir?

America's Freedom

I have the freedom to vote, but not the freedom to be a couch potato.
I have the freedom to worship as I please, but I can't hate my neighbor.
I have the freedom to be a good Samaritan, but not the freedom to eat that apple.
I have the freedom to eat long as it is healthy.
I have the freedom to long as I can pay for gas.
I have the freedom to be inspired by Obama.
I have the freedom to be a patriot, so I miss President Gorge W Bush,
wishing he was our current dictator.

The Power of Choice: A Short Story

The Power of a Choice

Copyright 2010 Tamara Peachy

As the money floated down to the bottom of the wishing fountain, I marveled that my baby girl already had aspirations. She was only three, but still genuine expectancy radiated from her confident smile. She had a secret wish tucked in her heart and believed in her two magical pennies.
Beads of water dripped from her blonde curls. She splashed the water with her delicate hand. Her laughter seemed to bounce off the water and amplify. Several other children were tossing pennies into the fountain. Their youthful excitement was great entertainment.

A thunderous truck engine interrupted the children’s sweet voices. I glanced behind me to see the man driving the truck. Judging from his expression, I assumed he was lost. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him over the engine.

I lifted Sadie onto my hip. She nestled her head into my shoulder. Her grip tightened around my neck.

“It’s alright Sadie. Mommy is going to help this nice man…

Then I Was Happy

He told me to wear sexy shorts to show my legs.
Then he had his way with me and left me alone.
Then I moved in with a family who believed women must dress modestly.
So I wore those skirts until the family found another sin to correct.

My doctor told me to exercise to lose those unwanted pounds.
So I ran and ran on that treadmill till I the sweat came and I couldn't breathe.
My doctor looked me up and down.
He told me I had anorexia and looked like bony death.

I got angry at the world
until the church told me to forgive.
Then I was happy
and going to hell.

Beautiful Women

Beautiful women smell like cat urine and stinky feet.

Beautiful women have dead ends and bushy eyebrows.

Hindered by their angry dads and lunatic moms,
beautiful women are being thrown in the trash
because the bills were stacking up.

After all, beautiful women cost of
baths, jewelry, curled hair, contacts, surgery, and laxatives.

The Two Voices in Time

There were times when I worried about wasting time.
I felt the teacher slap my hand with a ruler.
I heard how to live my life.
There were times when the teacher told me to write my name on the chalkboard.

"But, I am an angel, teacher. I would never do something wrong,” I said.
"Well, Satan was an angel too, little girl,” teacher said.

There is a time when I hate the world.
I curse it with my tongue and kick the dirt beneath me.
There is a time when I color in the lines.
There is a time I fear being wrong.

"But, I just want to love you for who you are,” I sing.

"You can't trust everyone or you might fall,” they sing.

There will be a time when He returns.
He will smile at me and slap my wrist.
He will bring us together and tear us apart.

"I will attend church this Sunday," I promise.

"I may return on a Monday," he tempts.

Out There

Are you out there person number 3 in 1?
Are you as beautiful as what I saw in my dreams?
Are you out there, leading  me to the truth?
Are you coming to save me from my little room?

Spirit, will you continue to run from this broken heart,
the heart that wants you all to herself?

If I hide long enough, will I know you more:
the timid one who doesn't speak; the one who never cries out?
I can't entertain or change you.
I can't create or find you.
I will desire you.


I can breathe the air of winter as my fingers cool.

I can breathe the air of spring with all those flowers and allergies.

I can exhale the air of autumn when the ground prepares for falling leaves.

I can exhale the air of summer when it is full of heat.

But, I have yet to breathe your air as you exhale.

I have yet to kiss those lips, fragile and timid.

I have yet to touch your fingers and hear you whisper my name.

If I believe the seasons of God's creation

I know I never will.