Thursday, January 6, 2022

Crawling Across Jell-O


Fear salts wounds

knifed by zealots

who march in factory

parades of cloned

tongued pushers

of caustic positivity.


There are times

the rosy picture

can’t and shouldn’t

remain framed

on a face that

only wants to fall

into the snotty

blabbering of broken.


Strong doesn’t mean

you can always stand,

never doubt, never question.

It is feeling your knees give out,

the taste of bile, weary raging curses

at the rain of agony storming

through your spirit…It is crawling

across Jell-o circumstances

trying to breathe your way

into the next hour.

©Susie Clevenger 2022

 Shay's Word Garden Word List #7

It has been a long three weeks of agony with my oldest daughter's new health emergency and it continues. Poetry is my journal, so this is a page from mine.

Saturday, December 18, 2021

What the Ink Sees


Flying Outside the Wire

Freedom is an oily key,

a dangerous walk across

the ear of sanity searching

for the sound of your own breath.


Programmed by wire boundaries,

and wingspan of hell’s generosity

I am a wildling crow learning to fly

a sky that doesn’t stink of vengeance.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

Testing a Theory


Dressed to the nines,

the tail and spur of it,

I prance vanity’s sidewalk

testing the cracks in pavement

to see if my shadow will choose

to add or subtract.


Dear god, it is annoying

 to have fate boast

 it own’s the calculator.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

Flying Without an Airbrush


Stop staring!

I’ve been in enough kettles

to know the price of fire.


While you whine and photoshop

I’m flying where I choose

without the weight of airbrushing

myself into fiction.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

Wednesday, December 8, 2021

River of Eyes

“Bone by bone, hair by hair, Wild Woman comes back. Through night dreams, through events, half understood, and half remembered...” ― Clarissa Pinkola Est├ęs

With the moon hanging from a question mark,

and the wolf drinking from a river of eyes,

I walk the shore of shadows searching for answers

among star shells at my feet.


Christened with the name Impatient

by Pew Huggers of the Worst Intent,

I am tongue slapped with I don’t

have enough faith if I keep dropping why

into the offering plate of affliction.  


Caught in a murder of crowing

I pace in circles trying to find my escape.


In the pfft and hiss of judgement’s posturing

the wolf howls and then speaks,

“A clock doesn’t hear, nor a calendar predict.

There are questions that will always question.

Answers you wish to never know.

Understand the flame of human will only

burn as bright as the one who strikes the match.” 

©Susie Clevenger 2021

The Sunday Muse #189

Wednesday, December 1, 2021

Blackberry Bruised Moon


I’m daddy’s girl,

blackberry bruised

moon shadow of dread.


I never speak because

the walls listen and

tattle tale to ears

that grow fists.


Inside my head words

walk my teeth trying

to find an exit, but

any sound they risk

would open a river of blood.


Hell has a cradle, a salt thread quilt.

Daddy owns a Bible…I hold the truth.


For everything there’s a season,

Now’s the time for Daddy's blackberry bruised moon

to shine light on his guilt.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

May the Turpin children never know horror again.

House of Horrors

Created from Shay's Word Garden Word List #2 (Plath)

Words I chose are highlighted in list

Word List: blackberries, brag, coiled, counterfeit, daddydithers, exitgobbledygoo,

hearing, idiot, lilies, lioness, mailed, maniacs, mend, moon, peacocks, shadows, space, water

Sunday, October 31, 2021

The Impatience of Learning Patience


I roam the dark side of the moon

teeth grinding flint hoping fire

will burn the last thread that

binds me to his eyes.


Their black mirror has stolen

my secrets, and dances their demons

across the black ice of revelation.


How foolish to surrender my skeletons

to stars thinking they would deliver them

to Luna’s heart where trust would keep them safe.


Sinful light hungry to roam the veins of hidden

carried my words as bounty to enter the valley of night,

but the dark orb swallowed their candles, and

hung my confessions on his iris of nightmares.


In the impatience of learning patience, I study

every wink, weigh every word, and wait for

any cracks in eternity where I can place a match

to start the fire of my unbinding. 

©Susie Clevenger 2021

The Sunday Muse #184

Sunday, October 3, 2021

Mapping Silver


Be pretty…

Paint yourself

into the shape of his eyes.


Are you kidding?

Conjuring my mirror

into his vision to erase mine

is silvered hell I won’t enter.


Does the moon dress in fear

or kohl its face to appease

night devils who stalk light with evil?


I have lines on my face mapping

the journey of calendars I’ve traveled,

dark hours I’ve survived, bright days I’ve danced.


My face is my face.

It holds gifts of my mother and father, ancestors,

shapeshifting, joining the unique reflection I possess.


Bare or painted, smile or frown, it’s taken several wrong exits

to finally reach the truth, the only voice in the mirror

that matters is mine.  

©Susie Clevenger 2021

The Sunday Muse #180




Saturday, September 4, 2021

Wherever Mascara Takes Me


I’m drunk on neon and chasing yellow lines to my next thrill,

too many empty Tuesdays, too many nights to fill.


Still pretty when the light is right,

still pretty when the glass is spilled,

a thousand miles past heaven’s exit,

one parking lot closer to hell.


I’m tripping on easy, counting dimes I don’t own.

just another blond in Vegas where wild glitter is sown.


Still pretty when the light is right,

still pretty when the glass is spilled,

a thousand miles past heaven’s exit,

one parking lot closer to hell.


The house owns all the gold, the bar bottles of red wine,

I’m betting on mascara the next win will be mine.


Still pretty when the light is right,

still pretty when the glass is spilled,

a thousand miles past heaven’s exit,

one parking lot closer to hell.

©Susie Clevenger 2021

After seeing today's image I searched Google for things about Las Vegas and it led me to INXS's song Pretty Vegas...So my poem sort of has the song's rhythm and no, it is not about me. :)