Dreamcatcher

This thin, brown thing, capture's dreams.
It is believed to suck out the bad things,
this thing from another land,  a more native place.
Where legends float up,   like smoke, into the night sky.

It hangs above the beds,
as the sleeping form rests below.
Its round, woven shape;
brown yet thin in nature.
Tells the story of another time, another race.

It's web so intricate and alluring,
adorned with feathers and beads.
A symbol of unity, or is it a symbol of protection.
As nightmares pass out of the window,
disappearing with the day morning light.
I wonder, with thoughts pounding like beats, about this dreamcatcher of mine.

Sincerely Fay,

something inside

She's drowning in self-confidence,
the appeal clinging to her every curve.
He exudes pride,
every touch becomes a possessive trail.
They are wrapped in lust,
love can't dwell here, it is not wanted.
They exist within four walls,
their bodies mangled within each others, gripping, caressing...

Cravings spill beneath the doors, escaping through windows,
the lost control seeping through cracks of their beings.
Burning trails of ecstasy chasing away the linger of pain,
marking its path on their bodies like fine art.
Heat so intense, it melts away common sense, inviting instinct to take over.
Emotions in battle, fighting only to be held back by the body.
Tearing at their bodies to unleash it all...no love could live in these conditions.

This is not the matter of heart, nor common sense,
this is the shear exploding existence of the carnage, beauty, and instincts of something inside....


-Sincerely Fay,

Excerpt from my Poetry Book...

This young lady knows how to love.

When I love, I love with my mind first.
I know then that this is not just lust.
I know that I can crawl into the blood vessels that lay within your brain,
travel along those scattered patterns, find you thinking about us.

Then comes heart, soul, & body stanzas....I know I haven't posted on here in a while so I thought I'd give you a quick update on my work!!! Ciao!!

Sincerely Fay,

Fly Precious Dove

There are pain within these walls,
there are scars etched within this flesh.
There are stories to be told,
the lessons I have to learn has yet to be revealed.
So the dove grew wings and learned to fly.

Seen a bush burn before me,
I have seen the world burn to flames.
The walls of my home coming down around me.
I heard a dove dive,
wings beating against the strong current of the wind.

To love and to learn to forget,
they always tell me that time heals all wounds.
But that's a beautiful lie,
it can't heal over 200 years of oppression,
thousand years of mass genocides and false assimilation.

The dove is stuck,
 it is afraid to lift its head to the sky that speaks of unyielding promise.
Sky whispers to the dove,
but its words gets lost in the wind, who violently pushes against the dove.
The vicious wind began to tear at the wings,
pushing its body back, bearing an innocent chest and an open neck.

The wings scarred,
the dove can no longer breath with the wind stuffing its mouth with lies,
feeding it unimaginable horrors and
Neglecting the sweet promise of death.

It is broken, bent out of shape...
It dares not lift its head up for the sake of its life.
The threat of violence and the stench of fear,
 so thick like smoke crawling in, filling your lungs till you no longer remember where you come from, who you are...

Humanity's Dove.
But this is our world, its the reality we face,
the deadly lies spoon fed to who,
a monstrous cycle reoccurring over and over again...
Fly precious dove

-Sincerely Fay,

To my Mother...

You held me when I couldn't hold myself,
You cared for me when I could not.
You read to me before I even knew how,
I didn't know how to formulate the words but I knew I would love you back.

You loved me when I had no name or face,
you loved me when I turned into flesh.
You loved me with the only way you knew how.
You loved me and taught me the art of love..

You raised me up,
You raised a human capable of more,
I carry your dreams and your wishes.
You raised me to be humble, smart, and caring.
You raised me to be prepared for the world...

For that I am grateful...
I am in debt to you forever, forever and always,

-Yours forever, Fay

Cracks in the Porcelain Girl

I used to sit at home and think,
I would stare at a blank page for hours,
while images and words, tales and adventures, would consume me.
The page was the only thing that understood and allowed these eyes to see.

I have too many stories to write,
too many lives to live,
too many places to go, it seems that its all stuck inside the four walls that is my mind.
I walk around trying constantly trying to be a thousand other people at once.
So I'm exhausted, I am my own canvas,
filled up to the brim with ideas, thoughts and voices that will probably never be heard.

The pen, an attached limb,
an appendage of another kind.
Pumping ink through these veins of mine,
words leaking from my pores and it is still not enough.

Calloused fingers,
writing my with my soul, my essence.
Night only lit by the moon,
my message heard by the universe,
changing lives from the function of your ears.

There is too many stories to be told,
too many lives to live, too many places to go.
I am a canvas, even when I am blank I am never empty.

-Sincerely Fay,

Sky Talk

Orange with streaks of pink becomes the sky,
sometimes shades of blue with hues of purple.

Sun sets in this city,
high rise buildings shadow grow and shrink.

Sun sets in these mountains,
peaks that shrouds us in nature.

Stars find their homes tonight,
the black sky and all its beauty.

The moon hangs in the sky,
showing itself to its children in the day,
 to earths children at night.

The wolves howl to the sky in the deserts, mountains, and forests.
The owl hoots, rotating to see all of the world.

The north star shines to show the path to freedom.
The stars reflect maps to worlds- old and new.
Hopes and dreams ascend up like smoke signals,
The sky tells us who we are,
where we've been.

Sit and close your eyes,
a tale is being told, listen as the sky talks.

-Sincerely Fay,

Art of Storytelling

Crafted from the depths of souls,
shaped from the pits of experience,
is the birth of storytelling.

Storytelling holds people,
holds their values, and life lessons.
Voices that expand the horizons,
dipped in octaves of sound,
resonating and creating worlds.

Powerful is this tool,
makes us laugh, weep, and prideful.
An experience that takes on the life of its own kind.
When in another's world we experience,
their pain, joy, courage and love.

The storyteller is a creation,
part of who we are, what we are.
Tells us what could be,
holds the past and shape our future.

So tell tall tells,
discover different worlds, find they keys that connect us universally.
Fly with birds and hunt with wolves.
Fall in love with the sun and sleep under the moon.
There is so many stories to consume.

To understand and see where their dwelling,
is the Art of Storytelling.

-Sincerely Fay,

Dream Spasms

Tonight I lay alone
my bed cringes at the sound of,
the sound of the silence that fills this room.
An unkept melody that can't find its muse.
There is no amount of noise, of notes or melodies that can replace you.

Tonight my tears fall slowly,
leaving a burning trail,
where your fingers once traced a path to reassure me.
There is nothing but my pillow to fall back on now.

Tonight there is no peace of mind,
I am restless, my body yearning ,
for the ghost of your touch...
to haunt my dreams and bring me joy and pain that will never fade.

-Sincerely Fay,

Dark places in Tight spaces

Dark places in tight spaces,
I've always wondered about the times when I would give up,
what would be the outcome and the result.
What would happen to those around me,
how would this effect them, would they be able to look beyond and see.

Dark places in tight spaces,
no one ever told me that my presence would affect someone else life,
That my actions could cause a long heavy chain of reactions.
They didn't say I wouldn't be able to embrace it,
I now know what is dark places in tight spaces.

-Sincerely Fay