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A-Muse Published on FeminineCollective

Updated: Aug 23, 2020

Another of my pieces was published! The website FeminineCollective took a shine to my poem 'A-Muse'. Unfortunately the formatting didn't translate well to their website, so I thought I'd post it here with the original formatting, as well as a link to their website. Enjoy!


My muse.

What a deceptive cunt.

Too little at the laptop. Too much in the shower.

Pen and paper at the ready?

The ink is flowing but no one’s figured out how to tap the imagination.

A pint of your best brainstorm please.

And let’s not forget to have the best ideas while driving.

Playing hide and seek with motivation?

Watch out for the wardrobes and the land of procrastination.

Finally sitting and ready to write. About what?

Pick a genre, any genre.

Horror… too many masters.

Too many sub genres of woe. I could be a King with my jester in a red room

right up until I terrify myself.

Monsters? They could come from lagoons that are black

or lakes that are placid.

But so many are just misunderstood.

Godzilla just wanted to be a mother.

Frankenstein just wanted to be loved.

King Kong just wanted a woman that made him look huge.

Who’s a good boy? A werewolf.

Want to be loved and live forever? Marry a vampire. It’s just bad interviews that makes them monsters; they really have sparkling personalities.

Fine. When even the monsters get happy endings it might be time for Romance.

Because some live under the illusion that Sparks hasn’t set the benchmark

sacked the waterboys

and fucked the head cheerleader with that one.

There’s still room there, right? Boy meets girl. Boy. Girls and boys. Girls meeting girls and boys. Shit. Let’s just say everyone’s meeting everyone somewhere.

They’re in love. They’re making love.

A little harder. A little darker.

Squeeze a little tighter. I want you, I need you.

Right after you sign the contract.

Leather’s not just for my shoes and couch anymore.

Teach me.

Please me.

Yes Sir.

No Sir.

Three bags full Sir.

Messy breakups. Betrayals and heartache.

Somebody cheated. Somebody’s pregnant.

Who’s is it? Does it matter?

It’s the baby that’s important!

Finding their father

Finding their mother

I was put up for adoption. Why didn’t you love me?

Follow your heart. To thine own self be true. Don’t live a lie.

Find a family but be unique

We’re all different

We’re all the same

Can anybody find me somebody to love?

No? Damn it

Then let’s go on an Adventure.

I’ll make my own. Where do I put it?

Googlemaps, plot and plan. Akubras and whips.

Word limit? What word limit?

Real adventures can’t happen in 2000 words.

Frodo barely got the ring to Mordor in close to half a million.

Can I fly a plane or sail a ship?

Is it now or then?

Worlds that are lost and worlds that are found

This is my world and I’ll claim it!

Maybe there’s treasure. Or a pretty bride

Inconceivable you say, but I conceive of many things

Like finding faith. Finding purpose.

Can I pray while I eat? Jesus is on a tortilla chip so I can’t eat that.

Your Gods aren’t my Gods but some Gods aren’t real Gods and everyone knows the difference while no one knows a thing

Australian Gods

English Gods

No Gods in America when Americans think they are Gods

He gave us life but we can’t be the only life

Ours is just one planet. We haven’t had a chance to offend the rest

We could find them or they could find us

Rocket ships. Spaceships. Lightspeed. Warpspeed.

Can you do the math on that one for me?

I know it’s about aliens but we have to make it realistic or audiences won’t believe.

Outer space. In myspace.

Whoa, what about the kids?

Am I too young to write that?

Am I too old?

I remember when I came of age. I don’t recommend it to others.

New adult. Young adult. Try not to be either.

New and young both end up old

Peter Pan was on to something. Wendy, girl, what were you thinking when you let that one go?

Definitely a Mystery.

A murder.

A crime.

Crack the code and you’ve got it made.

Who dunnit? I wanna do it.

Gone are the dragons, the aliens. They’re out there, sure, but so is everything else.

Lies. Truth. Stories. All the stories.

And me, with no idea how to tell them…

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