Forget THE boys

Ahh. Forget Boys. They’ll forever reside on this Earth beside us, humans…I mean Girls.  From now on, I’ll let them wait on my heart,so I can fly free, like birds who mate in trees, then leave. Forget the heart-breakers, charm-shakers, and dream-fakers, they won’t dissipiate anymore than my affections will. Let the boy fetch me and catch me, when I fall. Or better, I’ll trip him with sight of my splendiferous ankle and catch *HIM* when he falls-in love, with me that is.
Why is it always the other girl that gets my Amourdove?  Its *not* as if she’s smarter, funnier,or even prettier than I-it sadly, *just is*.

Belladine and Her Bugatti boy


Belladine ran from the leecherous boy as swiftly as her long slender faeiry legs could carry her. Her nymph laughs lingered in the Seattle air, leaving a trail for the passionate hooligan to follow. The sun shone on her face-everything else a mystery to be uncovered. No obsequious adulations tonight,only unadulterated,adulterated and rather licentious fun in the back of The Bugatti she lured him to.

The girl who shared her Amourdove with Joy


“Amourdove,”she called him impetuously,on the Saturday they sat together all morning. Her chocolate lover looked up with his dark brow set in lovely confufflement. He puckered his plum purple lips (plucked to full perfection) in curiousity.

“What’s that Sweety?” He stroked her cheekbone. Her feathery black eye lashes brushed against his fingertips.
“It’s a bit of latine”She leaned forward. He rest his chin on her shoulder and nodded her explaination on,”Amour means love.You are my love- My lovedove.You’re my Amourdove .”
She pressed her fingers to his curls and her to the birh mark at his temple. Her love smiled calmly, and a hollow appeared in his chocolate cheek.
Suddenly, he remembered something. He had to meet with his girl-Joy. He sat up quickly, “Rose,cutey, i’ve got to go get Joy.”

Rose smiled,”Oh yea!” Disguising the scalloped knife that ripped her stitched up heart. She always quickly ended their time together.

Her Amourdove hugged her around her waist, then turned to leave. She remembered when he had been love sick over a girl,Hope. Rose watched as he left, and prayed that Joy didnt remind him how to cry, the way Hope had taken away his dreams.

Twenty twelve 2012

Basically, the years over
But i’ve done about one
Of the million things
Youthful dreams have
Planted for me.
I havent published my book
But I finished it .
I havent fallen in love
But i’ve seen it.
Thats fine with me , really.
I danced in the sweat of the sun-alone.
I claimed fame in my school-in a good way.
I shun stupidity still.
Im a little sillier.
Im a little taller.
Oh, but I forgot to say what I meant on that day.
I made a lovely friend.
I study when i’m angry.
I told my mother about my friend.
She put a virtual end to that.
So, reality is left.

My reality is looking dull.
My future bright. But the present has to present presents for me.
So I have to speak my mind.
On Monday…

-If you understand, thank you.
If you didnt understand , thank you for reading.
Farewell lockettes

Why does the stygian mare charge at night?


Nightmares are awful! Most people find them horrible-i’m one of them. But, like everything, there’s a time to discover ‘why’.  1)Why do we have nightmares?

I have ideas on this question- Not exactly answers, but not exactly non-answers. Here they are:

1)Nightmares, I believe are the mind’s way of perserving a modicum, of even the most vile person’s innocence,because where fear exists conciliation is desired. Where there is conciliation, trust exists. Trust stems from love. Love is often met by adoration of a kind. And adoration inspires kindness. Anyone who tastes kindness realizes that life goes by swifter than butterfly wings and the caged bird’s song- augmenting the desire to keep longer the affections. In order to experience kindness and conciliating affections ,time has tobe taken for hugs and converstions. Even the vilest among us have at least one turtle dove they entrust every secret phobia too,every Dark Mare charging in the night. So even the vilest person is weak at the knees after bad dreams. Even they have to cry at times.
As for those with less evil intent, perhaps Nightmares remind us of the vile people and keep us away from things that reflect those abhorant qualities.
Maybe nightmares are one of God’s last messages, last nudges on the right path?

The appointment of Dis


The two umber doves you left behind, are woman you didn’t raise. Its not love. Love doesn’t feed crying babes. Food does. Get up Laze, find the drive to give your affections’ products a chance. Too late- A Daddy’s taken your place. One they can remember. Years go by, your left forgotten, crying and wilting at the recognition that you havent even accomplished your own dreams, whilst someone cultivated your daughters skills. Time wasted, day-dreaming about a grown male’s aspirations. Fetch them before they float away idiot! HE has. Why cant you. WHY CANT YOU EVER EARN AGAIN WHAT YOU LOST?
One daughter is a stone.She’ll fall on you like hell. The other a hummingbird.She’ll pick your eyes out if you come close enough to stroke her feathers.
The daughters you left, are woman you didnt raise.
Goodbye собак.

An Idllyic Scheme


Bottles of Joy were scattered on her marble floor. Her boy’s the lovliest and merriest ever seen in Paris.
His tousled mouse brown hair rests like a halo round his permanently  blushed cheeks. You haven’t you seen lashes as long as his since Joseph and the temptress’s slit wrists. A congenial kohl marks the rim of his hazel eyes. Hazel, the Parisian peach of this phebe’s  dormant eyes, looked on, her apple red lips parted in admiration of the scene before her. Her smile surpassed Sahara’s sun, her cheek hollows were deeper than a ruddy peach whose seed had been plucked. If the boy had been awake, he would be trying at fitting his thumb( still covered in chocolatefrom  last night’s fondue fountain) into the dimple.

Can you see the joy of the young two?
Can you feel Joseph’s likeness smiling against your cheek.

P.S. -The lovers will dance on silver roads when they awake.

Officially a locketteer

If you’re here, on my tumblr or any of my other blogs, you might as well press follow because YOU ARE OFFICIALLY A LOCKETTEER.Honestly, the truth is that i’ve lured you here with the repition of the word ‘locke’ in ALL sorts of coolio forms to promote my book in this vast universe! Except ,without the approval of teenagers/people who like my story, I’m just a writer- not a famous writer who gets to share her ideas with everyone. So do me a favor and support-locke. Repost, tagging supportinglocke. It would make me smile, AND bring my dream true!!

Chocolate Mars the heart

Theres a chocolate treat, i got on Halloween, from a house with a Chinese hostess, Tobagoian Cheif, and Trinidadian housekeeper. Every now and then, it beckons me come. It rests on my tongue, and it tastes like hon…ey. Its my best friend, but it doesnt yet know, that ill still be thinking of it when The Vanilla Snow falls. Just seeing it melt, between my fingers, makes my heart beat faster,faster and cheeks turn rudolph red.

Then its gone. And I humm a teeny little nonsensical song, Until tonight it calls me on my samsung galaxy.…