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Her bio (in her own words) "I'm one of the few tattooed, pierced,
long black-haired, 5' 10"
tall, poetry writing, Children's Librarians
that exist...at least I'm the only one that I have ever met.
It's fun
to be unique."
"Comfortable Poison"
How warped
And Picasso-esqe
One's reflection looks
In the
bottom of a
Half-empty glass;
How the room spins
Like a midnight
Joy-ride
Roller coaster
run
When the biting drink
Spikes its way down one's throat;
How fast
Comfort can turn
To complaint
When one finds peace
In a bubbly bottle;
And though it touches
The lips
Briefly
And gently
On
its poisonous way down,
How unlike a kiss
This beverage can be
When all one longs for
Is a warm feeling
To make the cold
Just a little bit more bearable.
© 2001 CrowLili
"A Taste of Fruit"
Show me your apple--
Stretch out your hands,
Let it rest in
your palms;
Hold it in front of my nose
So I may gaze at my
Hungered reflection
In it's waxen brilliance.
Bring it to my lips--
Let me trace its skin
With my thirsty
tongue;
Inch it temptingly close
So my senses may feast
Upon
its sugary aroma.
Hold it to my mouth--
Steady it in your hands
While I bite
Deeply into its sweet flesh;
Revel in the crack of teeth into skin
Ringing loudly through the air
Of this garden.
Smile wickedly as I chew--
You think you have tempted me;
Branded me a sinner
By waving your forbidden fruit
In front of
my eyes,
But I've come across other
Serpents
In other gardens,
And I've already seen my nudity
Reflected in the skins of their
apples.
Carve another notch in your core--
Close the garden gate behind me;
I'm not leaving to
Search for fig leaves
To cover my shame;
I'm breaking off a twig
To pick what's left of your fruit
From
between my teeth
While contemplating what to have for dessert.
© 2001 CrowLili
"Dining With The Devil"
Over tuna melts and coffee,
The Devil whispers me promises
Of
brighter tomorrows
And hotter nights
As the jukebox plays out
A dark Johnny Cash tune.
The fire in his eyes
Boils in the pit of my stomach
Like hot,
melted cheese
Burning its way down my throat,
And I find myself
falling for him
And the wicked way
He spears a french fry
With
his pitchfork.
Licking his lips
With his pointed tongue
He tells me its as
easy
As apple pie--
Easy as yes or no.
Stalling,
I ask him
To pass me the ketchup;
His cloven hoof
brazenly
Knocks over the saltshaker,
And I easily recognize
The futility
Of tossing the spilled grains
Over my shoulder.
© 2001 CrowLili
"Before They Hatch"
I'm not quite sure
Where this silence comes from--
Perhaps from holding my breath,
Afraid that parted lips
Might
reveal the hopes burning
In the back of my throat;
Afraid that an exhale of swirling smoke
Will gather into rings
That dissipate all too soon.
Sometimes a telling grin
Is all that is needed to hold off
Until morning--
A secret is easier to explain
Than the best
laid plans of mice and men.
It's safer to remain still
Like the hunting Tiger
Camoflaged in
the shadowy reeds of sunset--
I will only let out my satisfied purr
Once my prey remains silent
in my belly.
© Crowlili 2001
"Metal Through My Tongue"
It was a quick bite
Of lightning,
A fashionable jolt
Of
cold steel and
Invincibility.
It was a sudden burst
Of fire,
A red hot skillet-lick,
A
romantic embrace
With a mouth full of embers.
It was a fast flash
Of needle-precision,
A cactus tongue kiss
Concentrated in one
Deeply held breath.
It was a last minute impulse
Pondered over for years,
A ten
second blast
Of distraction and power,
Another notch
On my
emotional bedpost.
It is
Another dot on my 'i',
Another page in my book,
Another piece of metal
To inevitably set off detectors,
And
another reason
To make you weak in the knees.
© Crowlili 2001
"Making Believe"
True feelings
Eventually
Rise to the top
Along with the pond scum
And the cream;
Knee-deep in this confusion,
I simultaneously
Love you,
Filter you out,
And lick you off
my fingers.
In jest
And over-dramatics
Some claim to be
killed
By indecision, rejection and love;
I only claim
to
Rest in the pieces
Of the bittersweet attention
Because I think
I may have already been dead.
Like being trapped
In a dream
Of vertigo,
I pretend
the fall isn't real;
But I hit the
ground
In a mass of broken bones
Way before I even
Drifted off to sleep.
I'm a baby
Playing
Peek-a-boo;
You
cease to exist
When I cover my eyes,
But my hands are
Growing numb
From the blood rushing away,
And I can't play this game
Forever.
© Crowlili 2001
"Orchestrated"
I'm a virtual virtuoso,
A prodigy
I'm told,
At playing the Second Fiddle.
I'm a masterful
Maestro
Two seats over,
wing low
With my bow,
Pushing out muted
strains
From behind the shadows.
I've become well rounded
In skirting the spotlight,
Beating around
The proverbial bush
While the
two birds
Fly far out of my reach.
I'm a patient waiter;
Convenient accompaniment
Poised in humility
For First Fiddle to snap a string,
Split a bow,
Break your heart--
I'll warm that seat
Until she returns
With a
flourish of trumpets
Knocking over
All stands in her
path
© Crowlili 2001
"Driving Out Of Queens"
Your silence astounded me--
I couldn't have said it
Better myself.
The tiny corner of the couch
I had always inhabited
Became the mouth of a dragon--
It burned me
In its unfamiliar stance.
One more cigarette
And a hundred more
Unexplanations
And I was on my way
Racing
east on the 495,
My tires spitting up
Debris in your
general direction.
I suddenly found humor
In realizing
This expressway
that connects us
Is known as the
L.I.E.
© Crowlili 2001
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