The Narcissist Bar Star


you were dissed in high school

dismissed , never kissed

invisible to all the pretty girls

ignored by those you thought were the “cool” kids

*       *

then after a “serious,” teen heartache

which lasted as long as this poem takes

through with being  rejected

 reflecting in the mirror

saw clearer to what vanity could create

and turning away from the light,  choose a dark fate

now you could escape who you really are

get back at the world who scarred you

and so was birthed from within- an inner sub-criminal, dis social, psychopath,

king of narcissists, discriminatory thief of characteristics

*          *

Career? That was an easy choice

the place with the least amount of responsibility

where the reality of truth had best invisibility

and talent and creativity are misleading

where any trace of blatant phoniness, lying and flagrancy

cease to exist,

what better a place for a infantile narcissist to show off his

 naked lying face while  “charading” in bliss?

The Bar!

*       *

and so with giddiness

and glee

intoxicated on contradictions

lacking in confidence but poised ready and smiling,

  his mother driving him

down the road, round the bend

sure of conquering what’s at the end

in becoming

…..the hometown Bar Star

*      *

  the crowds here are easy

just learn some chords

they don’t even have to be yours

no one cares you’re a replicate on replay

they can’ t see the charade

and there’s never a challenge of credibility

of a guy with a guitar

impersonating, masquerading

playing music by real stars

who are  “blowin” up the radio

*      *

this is where extreme narcissists full in histrionics- are welcome

  guys stake their ground, shaking hands like a Russian mafioso

“hi man whats up, you going to my next show?”

where guys pushing 40, are free to

hit on the under 20s

in a skewed reality

 thinking…they are quite normal

*        *

The bar is a haven, housing emotionless relationships

where love is built in cheesy nourishment’s

dripping in lies and redundant lines like

“hi hun, how’s my sweat little thing?”

*      *

to keep the lie, that he is alive

he needs a constant supply of applause and adulation

to fuel dead emotions so he can beguile

swaying and distracting

your attentions away

 determining  your worth in qualities

confiscating the ones, useful in variety

to add to the image of star

*     *

but away from the bar

the narcissist will insist he’s above such “lowly” crowds

yet here is where he finds his supply-

 a corral  of  penned up sheep parts

currently trending in popularity

*          *

The Bar Star narcissist

feeds to replenish his eternal emptiness

camouflaging his dullness to clothe his blank, bleakness

creating a functional social round setting of normality, while

blanketing a


fabricated from

what he covets

and covertly envies-

ultimately- to cover up the disgust of who he is really

*      *

Be forewarned, the Bar Star will never retire

his dire condition demands durable enablers

like desperate groupies and yes, his mommie

here’s a tip for those hanging by the band at the bar waiting for Mr. tomorrow-

don’t fall for the lame guy who’s making you feel so (blah) special

like you and him share some  personal connection

 his affections are there to ensure  he gets back , positivity

 and possibly he’ll ask what  he should be pinning on (Pinterest)-

just to seem well rounded in interest

he’ll  boast, always humbly,  telling you how well traveled he is

although he’s never even lived outside of his home

in all the time since you’ve been alive

trust your instincts and not the flattery, it’s not for you anyway

*      *

the narcissist only finds worth

in his obsessing and chasing his dream

to fix an un-fixable bruised ego of a guy trapped as a teen-

denied the supreme senior reign

the  proms crowning glory


the high school class king

and all over,


    ……………………………The Bar Star Lives On

This is dVerse‘ last link up for this year! Head on over and read some amazing poems ! Looking forward to Next Year! Thanks dVerse for being YOU!

Haiku, I Think I Love You


long my labors and no longer young
I remain even now, like Sogi on the move
from lodging to lodging
….Matsuo Basho

I thought this speaks for the internal and external, creative writing journey I am on now

A haiku ( states “technically it is not a hokku since it lacks a seasonal word )that “emphasis not only the hardships, traveling beggar-poets endured in their search for inspiration from the visissitudes of nature, but also their restless efforts to improve their art-their search for the perfect poem expressing precisely what they saw, thought, felt, and meant.”.. Sanford Goldstien & Seishi Shinoda

I am immersing myself in hokku/haiku. My interest in this form of poetry (not to mention my extreme love and interest in antique Japanese woodblock, screen, calligraphy, actually all forms of  Japanese art! I’ve always hearted, is ignited again) … has been re-peaked since becoming more aware by the recent glimpses through posts and pages that have caught my eye, seeing the passion found for it here on WordPress and Blogspot. And from these places, I have been  tracing it to The Haiku Society and other passionate groups I’ve crisscrossed online. “The Haiku Society of America spent two years and used 20,000 words in letter exchanges among authorities before reaching a dictionary definition for haiku (The Classic Tradition of Haiku, Dover Thrift). ” !!!!!

Since writing my first poem in Kindergarten with ten words, “I love bread and cheeses, I love God and Jesus”  my passion for short, and to the point poems, have never really ventured into really lengthy poems of emotion and observations. And that is something  I am trying to work out in exercises. Also because of the way my mind is “working” since that whole, left- side paralyzing, obscene pick ax to the brain episode I wrote about (sending out an  sos to my brain) I think creating (attempting) haiku’s would be a great exercise for rehabilitating my creativity without frustrating me to the point of tears.

I want to thank Trifectra for having the haiku challenge and all of the writers that participated, and also the wonderful writers over at dVerse from whom exposed me to more haiku!!:) So I’m looking forward to seeing if this will be a help for producing poems more consistently.  It’s always been hard for me to write unless I’ve been thunderstruck for better or worse. keep on keeping on :)



Slogan Rap: Equality

justice statue with sword and scale. cloudy sky in the backgroun

For dVerse, prompt, A word that has become a slogan, Equality, I picked to write about, that carried me away.





                              EQUALITY, IS IT REALLY  FOR YOU AND ME?

I would have to respectfully disagree with what has become some peoples idea’s of the meaning behind the word, now slogan, Equality. It’ a deformed word, making a mockery of the brave people who gave their whole life to finding this country, a place where  truth, justice, and the freedom to worship, would never again be a felony. But In a land where, I can be all that I can be and am encouraged to think differently, this freedom of expression has now become the “anti” and considered a crime for some in our society.

Equality groups have popped up who are jeopardizing the freedoms we all have, falsifying their call with demands  for equality that limit them. You, can have’em, but read their fine print, it says, only as long as you think the way they do and if you don’t agree with their opinion or beliefs, they cry , you’re a racist, a bigot, a thief.  They refuse to see, by acting like this, they’ve now turned into oppressors and discriminators, the exact things they were fighting against.

Take a look at this seriousness, a purposeful blindness of which advocacy and equality rights groups and this nation continue to ignore. I implore you to think about this, about the discrimination of our Jewish population. You’d think after 4,000 years of oppression, these people, a large number now living here, within a free nation, would have found acceptance, heard their plight sung about it in rap lyrics . Somehow mainstream media isn’t getting the scoop, wow, big surprise there, and hasn’t reported this world news, well, new here but years old everywhere else.  The Bible, the heritage of the Jews, can’t be banned from schools. It’s the account of Jewish History, a remarkable record of their ancestry!  Go take a tour in Israel you can see for yourself, the time lines of documented found ruins round the Temple Mount. The evidence is undeniable and proven by archaeologists everywhere. So you can’t take this text out of, well anyplace, that would be, and is, a direct open opposition in statement, a purposeful violation stemmed in extreme and open hate, against a whole race.

Schools study world history and about the fake gods that come along with it and while Asian, Black, Island Pacific, and a limited  study of Native American history with others can be found in the class and that’s cool, yet why is there a ban that prohibits all of us from learning about this, the worlds oldest race? Let me ask you, while people will rip someone apart for “exposing” their child to the word Bible in school, they don’t fuss about the obscenely gross  sex/same sex literature forced upon their little kids in the class room , those minds are in no way  built or meant to comprehend  this  adult stuff , they’re  being used for peoples selfish agendas to spread their beliefs around, forcing your child to absorb stuff you don’t agree with … blatant torture-isn’t it?  This is the stuff you are against, you’re the ones who won’t tolerate the spreading of stuff like this, remember ? You don’t, Why not?? You keep the Bible banned from schools, ohh its just your continued way to show your hatred for the Jews?

We can’t allow one advocacy group more “rank” over another (womens equality? can you say, a justice still so uneven?) You can’t expect everyone to agree with you either nor of your beliefs, your way of life and then cry to congress “boo hoo they don’t follow me, it isn’t right.” We are a land full of diversity, look around, how could you have not gotten the memo? Do you know what groups like this are doing? By throwing people in jail for refusing to conform to thinking that their way is the norm, even when its not? It’s doing what the 1st amendment says you absolutely can not …have one groups belief , a belief that allows no one to disagree. So now we’re a country in throwback to the Inquisition. 4 hundred years later how disgusting and humiliating it is that our claim to progress boils down to this as Illiteracy, Poverty and Child Welfare  sink further and further into the  depths of no return.

Some of us have gotten so wrapped up, diluting what’s good for this whole nation, trying to change a situation to fit our own mission which has instead resulted in creating more exclusions and omissions. We have to keep the truth behind equality.  We disagree, that’s what humans do, but just because, I sometimes disagree, that in no way means I hate you. So stop fighting against the “me’s” and the “we’s” for being  true to who we are too.

Chaotic Beauty

Hello! Hello:)

For today’s dVerse metting at the bar: Give it to Me One More Time (Do It Over Again) Victoria from the good folks over at dVerse, asked us to pick a piece and revise and revamp it. I am re-everything on a short story or poem, I don’t know what it was trying to be, I wrote years ago that I just can’t seem to get right,nor finish. It keeps evolving, devolving, and fading in and out of memory, but recently I’ve been thinking about it. I tried using it for nano short a little while ago. The new version is a couple words over 300. Here’s the original,  my first attempt (long long past) at a long (for me, story………UM YAH IT”S EMBARRASSING!

Original                                      CHAOTIC BEAUTY

She stands inside the screen porch doorway. The sun shines kindly on her back unbiased to the macabre scene out back.
Tiny drops of blood entangled in her blonde ringlets fall upon the cool wood floor. Now a witness to her rebirth.
A tiny morphine smile stretches across her face as she falls to her knees embracing herself with a soiled hug.
Her mind flashes back to him. But in her new found bliss, quickly discards that memory for eternity to the shadows of her mind.

 Tonights Revision (I don’t mind if it’s only ok, It still needs a lot of work! But I am soo much happier, Thanks Victoria for this push!)

She was looking out from inside the screened in porch doorway, watching as her promise faded into another’s dream. She fights to keep her dark eyes from swelling and filling with tears. Laughing, he just turns and starts walking towards the car down the old  dirt driveway .She remembers something and shouts to him… I made your favorite lemonade, you can take it with you. Under her breath she adds, I don’t need it anymore.

He turns around smiling. Aaah sure, he replies, drawing out the sounds of the words, while smiling the kind of smile a guy uses for a girl he could care less about if they live or die.

I’ll bring it to yah, wait a minute. She closes the screen door and heads into the dark interior that swallows her completely.

She’s in the doorway again, but she isn’t interested in the ghosts walking away with her life anymore. She hums low as the strong light of the sun warms kindly, unbiasedly, upon her back. The dark cherry wood flooring cools her feet as she steps in, on to it from the porch. Tiny droplets of blood entangled in her dirty blonde ringlets fall to the red stained shine below, inviting it to settle within the hard worked finish.

Looking down she stands transfixed, watching the droplets splatter, landing in a unorganized rhythm. A tiny morphine smile etches across her face. Suddenly she tosses her head back as she falls to her knees, embracing herself in a soiled hug. An uninvited thought pierces her mind.  A memory, a faded image of his hand holding hers.  There’s nothing. And she lets it go, discarding it within the depths of the dark stillness consuming her senses.

She sits up on her knees and hovers over. She pauses and looks interestingly at the pale skin interrupted by blueish, purple lines and leans closer and kisses his mouth, his cold, dead eyes and whispers.. goodbye my love, goodbye.


ballerina en pointe

she likes to eat reverb off of fat faces

laced with stratagem smiles

waiving to comfort

us free slaves

so she can spit it

back out in spades

and help save the day

for the few who choose

to Believe



Hello Dverse,  Thank you for coming over to read the second poem linked for Dverse. The first line is on a mixed media project I had made awhile back, but I think it’s a fun idea and can be used  for many other expressions.