Saturday, September 17, 2016

Black Birds

Beautiful chaos,
Guard of the darks,
Disappear you.

The posse of black birds
Crack the glass of creation-
Chards turn shrapnel
To self.

Patch it with salty fears
And a stubborn heart.
Trap doors make no promises.

Travel to pastel worlds
Of safety and order,
Where waves eat pain.

Easier to touch the sky
Through blurry sea eyes
Than man’s whoring on the shore.

Carved from sunken eyes
And flesh,
They hunt the weak.

The ocean floor does not discriminate.
She supports life with a steady hand.
She changes, but never leaves.
She sees without eyes.

@DianeKeys 2016

Sunday, August 28, 2016

You Know You Famous .....

I can add this to my list of Fictitious Diane Identities from the rumor mill.

I LOVE this one, it is a serious first and gives me MAJOR STREET CRED cuz that's the world I live in!!

Primo fictitious identities to date:

(could of made a LOT of money with that one--think people were hoping I was)
I had a toddler at the time, so the playpen must have been my inflatable dungeon used between naps

Undercover FBI
no real explanation for that one

and now
 Heroin addict

 At least they think I'm recovering and on methadone, which is apparently the same as ADD meds for kids--who knew? 

I even have SYRINGES!!  

Used to shoot up my diabetic cat with insulin

oh and
Cult Leader
Now THAT one is true!!  Viva la Dkult! 
Living Your Life so You Don't have to!!
JOIN TODAY!! We have good soup!!

what are the BEST rumors out there about you?

As long as people are talking about you-you still famous!!

Saturday, July 30, 2016

The Bathroom

They removed
my sanctuary--
A bath filled with
Hours of play
sheltered by
Noah’s ark.

The vessel navigated
The flood of rapidly
Cooling water
and waves.
Animal doubles stayed
Safe in my wrinkled hands.

An observant mirror
Witnessed my adolescent
Fears and confusions,
Reflected my sadness
Putting makeup
On for the first time--
I was
No longer
Good enough.

Weighing in,
I fought the anguish
That malicious needle
blandly inflicted.

The medicine cabinet
Hid my magical bottle
Of violet perfume--
Gifted by a thoughtful Aunt.

Casually beside it was
A glass of liquid mercury,
Covered with kitchen foil.

When swirled around,
It looked like
A dog chasing its’ tail--
Each bead seeking reunion
With the welcoming whole.

Experts confirmed
An injection
would be lethal, yet
I feared this gentle poison
Less, than the amorphous toxin
Briefly neutralized
By flimsy doors.

Warm air laced with cedar
Allowed me to catch my breath
Before facing
What had already begun
Seeping in-
A constricted,
constructed life
In a room with no door.

Copyright  Diane Keys  


Sunday, July 24, 2016

Broken Lifeline

Palms bleed red
At the crucifixion point­­--

Suffering to ease troubled travelers
Who forgo maps
And demand directions.

The body architect sends flares,
And grants permission
To abolish earned worth.

Locate the unformed baby,
Grieve play turned tragic.

Callous grips seek gentle hands
To soothe them.

Hearts turn blue
When love bleeds out.

Diane Keys

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Sutured Wounds

Sutured wounds made of gut
Never had time to dissolve
Before you tore them open.

My golden thread
Became blind to the eye.

Exposed bone on public display
Dared others to enter
Your gruesome fiction.

I lost myself in the bloody war
Inside your head.
It seemed justified,
And your pain was generous.

You extracted brains
And joys
From faceless enemies
Through the filter
Of An entitled child.

Your smokescreen
Of fury and fear,
Demanded replacement
For what was taken from you­­,
Prices paid.

The shadow of your emptiness
Retreated only in darkness.

I left your army of one
When I became
A character in your story,
With no happy ending,
Just an end.

Diane Keys 7/2016