Maddy's Page

I wish I could pickle memories.
Toss them into a transparent jar,
Hear the Ker plunk as they hit a sea of vinegar,
That bitter pickler.
I could turn cucumbers
Into squishy varieties,
And, when I feel the need,
Reach my hand into said jar
And retrieve a tangible face,
Bite slowly into its slimy skin
While a cascade of lime-green juice
falls down my jaw.
I could hear the crunch,
Feel the bitter particles bounce of my acrobatic tongue
And recall odds and ends
I dared not recall before,
But feel the… Continue

" Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."





I like to build my lovers in my image,
Dawning the guise of a God over my charges.
I see those hollow men and women,
Crying silent cries of lamentation
The world chooses to ignore.
I’m like the fog encasing you so gently,
Surrounding you in a whimsical daze,
Smoothing the strands of your inhibitions away
One by one-
Freeing you of your self loathing,
Inserting into you l'amour de l'individu,
Rubbing porcelain onto your skin.
I’m a siren, my love.
Do yo… Continue

“Let woman be a plaything, pure and fine, like a gem, irradiated by the virtues of a world that has not yet arrived.” Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra



I

I’ve read all the books,
Heard all the words-
Seen the mountainous pile of self help articles
On how to obtain femininity.
I’ve seen the movies,
Venn diagrammed the different definitions-
Experimented with colorful sticks
And waist shrinking torture devices.
I’ve walked the walk,
And, if my life depended on it,
I could bring mysel… Continue

Only the paper knows me-
Can depict the contours of my face
In molded words lining a page,
Resuscitating the victim of Earth’s clawed touch.
It’s the contrast of black and white,
The abyss that lies,
In between two opposing forces
Rolling and destroying down a slick hill,
Leaving my visage in their wake.
Each frivolous word widens my cruelly assembled eyes
Separating man-built illusion from reality.
Crumbling facades into vertically inclined piles.
Earth tumbles inwards in these orbital openings… Continue

**Something a bit.. controversial? Based on Nietzsche's assumption that "God is dead."

I hear the clank of the gears turning.
It must be time, then.
Clouds on wheels separate
Like Moses in the Red Sea.
A vacant gap is left,
Foreshadowing the beginning of the play.
Cue the lighting-
Harsh rays fall down onto our upturned faces.
Time, time, it is time-
A trumpet sounds.
Remark the increasing pace of drums
Matching our hearts,
And our own addition of unintelligible muttering.
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
A… Continue