No Where But Here

I need a knife

I'd rather slice

My wrists than enter that Cult-like sweat lodge

I try but he won't let me dodge

Stuck on a pew under a steeple

With demons and people

All like paper doll cut outs

With plastic smiles 

And all the while

They snicker and boast

Eat their food, they toast

While people starve 

In their own back yard

It's not me! I scream in here

Because I dare not voice my opinion when he's near

So I'm sorry this is more rant than poem

I've ....no where but here. 

Niece of the King

In another life, she was the daughter of the brother of a great king.

The brother who would most likely never inherit the throne.

For the great king was strong and wise.

So the brother fell into drinking alone.

A frequenter of pubs.

And he traveled the realm of fae.

Sampling of all kinds suds.

And collecting all kinds of tales.

Which he became the re-teller of.

His nights were filled with merriment and mirth.

His mornings mostly alone.

His name became Sudskins.

And most forgot he was brother of the great king.

He was much beloved for his laughter

and for the tales he spread like seeds.

The tip of his beard tickled his belly.

Which had grown portly with ale.

And one day he met a woman

From the empire of men.

A woman of beauty and warmth.

A women bewitched by his tales.

And the little girl that followed

after a hot tempered fling

they bequeathed with the name Sudsillory

And she was the niece of the king.

(not by me) but ...As told by my favorite writer in this Universe.