The expulsion of love

TheFeatheredSleep – Of that one love that surpassed all while it lasted.


this oneWhere are you now?

Sitting on your stoop, first light, cats weaving between

coffee in hand, watching sunrise,

what are you thinking?

You are not thinking of me

the door is shut on us and you turned the key

it took only the loss of hope that gentle thing

and I became a stranger

so many days, months, years and still

I know you less

is it that easy? Was it that hard?

The expulsion of love

still live, dying on the floor.

I met you when the coals were

burning hottest, all I wanted was

a reflection of those feelings

you took my hand and guided it

into your clasp and pressed my back

with a deep

push into another world

the world of you

where I have been these many years.

They weren’t just words

though if I strain I can hear

the first you whispered

our curled…

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One Year Ago Today: Color You Mine

Christine Ray repeats a lovely one.

Brave & Reckless

Unwrapping you
Thrill of opening
New box of crayons
Curated, my favorite colors

You taste
Granny Smith Apple
Wild Strawberry
Jazzberry Jam
Your vibrancy
Radical Red

Your soul
Forest Green
Pine Green
Midnight Blue
Blue Bell
Royal Purple

Our night music
Outer space
Robin Egg Blue

Your mouth
My canvas
To adorn

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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While I Was Out

Stephanie Bennett-Henry – Two selves

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

While I was out, the other part of me rarely got out of bed, brushed my hair, or even saw the sun.

But while I was out, I didn’t care about her, because I was dancing blindly with the madness, spinning my wheels in the night, holding hands with dangerous things like they came straight from the mouth of god. I bowed to all as if they were holy, as if I was the one people knelt to and believed in with all their hearts. I was unbreakable, but in pieces I carried around, gifting beauty to strangers.

While I was out, the me that laid in a daze of gray, lost somewhere between sobs that grow numb, didn’t give a second thought to the other half of me sinning like a hobby that became a religion.

And that other half, in her grandiosity, did unholy things in my name…

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Because you are not a stranger

TheFeatheredSleep – To one not a stranger


Because you are not a stranger

usually I am too reticent, restrained, packaged away

in some hat box with a faded bow

to reach, to linger, to listen

I am a carefully tended garden without entrance

belies her wild interior and the need she has to be untamed

and still you spoke

tearing through the bower, the shrubbery, all my thorns

as natural if we had just been interrupted. having a long conversation

bounding into my life with that long-legged gait reminding me

of those California girls with skin you want to photograph

and ride on horses with until their cheeks get hot

no you are not a stranger

anymore than my French fatalism

is contrary to the opalescent sway of things

we all hang in some form or fashion

from our necks till light betrays our dreaming

and we must enter the sore lot of reality with something of

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Why write about politics and religion?

LuckyOtter explains.

Lucky Otters Haven


When I started this blog, I remember saying I would never write about politics or religion.

Four years later, I’m writing about both politics and religion.   Though not every one of my posts covers these two divisive subjects, a good percentage of them do.    Sometimes I remember the promise I made when this blog was new, and feel like a bit of a hypocrite.

But then when I realize how closely our political situation (and religion too, since in America, right wing evangelical Christianity has become VERY political) ties in with narcissistic abuse and sociopathy, which was this blog’s original focus —  I realize I made the right decision in tossing aside my original vow to steer clear of religion and politics.

In 2019, narcissistic abuse is no longer a matter that only affects individuals, relationships, and families.   It’s the modus operandi of a criminal political organization or perhaps…

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Big Sur

TheFeatheredSleep – place, people, intimate


This is about you

about your long-legged stride and the way you shield your eyes

too light for the orange center of Californian sun

This is about you

it is called; Sorry I don’t see you every day because

if I did I think I wouldn’t care that we both burn

or our former rules and preferences

they were just defenses against the unknown anyway

what really counts, like you say in that dogmatic

tone I find so worldly; The soul it’s all about the soul

of course you are right

and not because you have lived 5 life times

and here’s where you correct me and say darling;

it’s eight incantations thus far

and you put on my accent and make me laugh

as the bog gnaws the bone that came by Amazon

along with my book and if I could

climb into that box and send myself


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Untitled #39

At The Hijacked Amygdala, The Feathered Sleep serves up pain beautifully.

hijacked amygdala

I forget

What I lived for back then

Maybe just hope

That indefinable future stretching unknown

It always baffled me how the young

Could give up and try to die

When there was always hope

And some sympathy for their tender years

I want to say to them

Wait until you get here

Then the going gets quiet

People don’t check on you

There is no sympathy for your failing

We’re supposed to be stronger

What doesn’t kill us, right?

Not true

Everything that’s destroyed me did not

Make me more resilient

That’s a lie we tell ourselves and our friends

Or maybe for some it’s a truth

Not for me

I feel with every battering less and less

Less willing to stand and fight

For why?

The illusion things will change?

The care that rarely solidifies

I am so good at lifting others up

So poor at building my…

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Redemption – Candice Daquin

Candice Louisa Daquin at Free Verse Revolution


What would you have me redeem?

Let’s go back to the beginning

You said

I was a terrible child

Just ask your father

So I did

Though in truth

I’d asked many

Years before

Seeking answers

For unanswerable things

Like why it’s my fault

And why my existence

Is such anathema

To you


If I could go back in time

Nothing would change

Not your hate

Nor your anger

I am

Who I am

The reason I find it hard to accept


Isn’t your fault

Nor is it your doing

I am so good at self hate

Though you taught me well

In echo

I only had to see how much

You hated me

To learn

But we cannot

Blame others

We are responsible

I cannot redeem myself

My sin

Is part of me

I was born of it

I became it

I sin when I want love

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TheFeatheredSleep sings love.


14gottschalk3-jumboWe learned to swim

in the flickering pools of each other’s eyes

desire born in quiet step and curtsy

before I ever touched you outside this dream world

you were the betroth of my sleep

we circled each other in origami folds

acquainting, never strangers, always known

as if time held us apart long enough, to generate

in the deep cry of longing, a hallowed place

where only those destined for the other

shall like painted flowers, made of paper

embrace, release and turn to ink

coloring water the stain of lacquered longing

reborn on latticed wing of desire

to breathe again in the surround of this singular girl

for you, are my pendant, hung close to my heart

you do not tarnish or fade in intensity

you are the twitch in my smile, a muscle pulling

upward each time I think of you

it is as if, with every…

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