Thursday, November 17, 2016

Exhaustible Fate

This is the last poem I'm going to publish from my book Through the Silent Caldera on the internet, since I am busy editing my second book at the moment. I hope you all enjoy it. My mother asked me to read this poem years ago, but I wasn't ready by any means. Death comes with some many different emotions that it is a very difficult to process at times, this poem only focuses on one, anger. 

Saturday, November 12, 2016


The day life slipped
From my only shelter
I met a primitive woman
Barely clothed
In a tattered
And frayed frock
Burgundy bleached
From an unforgiving sun
With short matted
Ebony hair
She took notice
Of me slightly
As I arrived
For I
Was just passing through
Deep within the jungles
Of South America

She had carelessly
Busted open
An exposed grave
While the rain forest wept
And began washing
What little laundry she had
Amongst the water
That had seeped in
To accompany
The decaying bones
Of a poor soul
Withering away
In an ancient cemetery

Suddenly my hands
Were her's
And I began chanting,
"Bana, bana bana."
At that moment
A decrepit stone sundial
Struck two o’clock
Sunlight glistened upon
Every crystallized raindrop
I realized
Death had consume me
Murdered me in my sleep
He did
While my attention waned
As a crescent moon

The Great Witch
A mother of divinity
Warned me
Two years prior
But not even
A channeled spell
From a planet
Where magic inhabits
Every being
Could untangle
Such a bitter curse
Of discourse
Marked upon my soul
By his misguided
Vengeance marred

For a week I traveled
In between worlds
Nowhere near humanity
Just glissading through
One looking glass
After another
And oh how he begged
Humbly negotiating everyday
With the archangels
Of lore
To bring me home
Wailing with clenched teeth
Bedamning himself
For all he had done

I was brought back
To my animated body
Kept copacetic
By a merciful angel
I thought I was
But you must understand
A man such as this
Has no soul

Would you like to know
How he killed me?
He took my broken
Grief stricken soul
Riddled with tears
Of multiple
Nervous breakdowns
And slaughtered
What was left of me
When I was most vulnerable
For this is not a human being
But a demonic force
That has only been witnessed
Upon the silver screen
In the shadows that creep ©

The Magical Caldera

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The Magical Spectrum

Take me where
The fireflies dance
And the meteors rain down
Bringing new star seeds
To Mother Earth

Bring me home
Where a dryad
Is always hiding
Within a Yule tree
Take me
To the might oak
Where the fairy folk
Live deep within
Aged roots of perfection
For no home is complete
Without their gentle touch

Let me dance
With James
The royal librarian
Under the spiral
Of an ancient bibliotheque
For he collects all my words
Keeping them safe
For future elf kin to read 

Let me adventure
Into different dimensions
Where comfort awaits
For it's too harsh here
Among the ruins
Of a developing civilization ©

Karen L. Fleming, The Magical Caldera

Microcosm of Poetry: 13

Half awake
I scribe poetry
Not even a drop 
Of coffee by my side
Cozy under
A heap of covers
I do lie ©

Karen L. Fleming

Monday, September 12, 2016

Microcosm of Poetry: 12

Your dramarama
Is too much for me
I'd rather play
Russian Roulette
In the quicksand
Than listen to
The hogwash
You preach ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 11

Empty words
Are lifeless gestures
Decorated in
Christmas paper
Topped with 
A god awful
Gaudy bow ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 10

Lullabies lost
Static creeping in
Cringe worth spider's venom
How it all starts to seep in ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 9

The worse pain
Inflicted upon a soul
Is abandonment
By a loved one
During illness ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 8

Shreds souls
Bit by bit
All inter sanctity ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 7

Lies spoken
I incinerate

I don't buy fables
Laced with cyanide
Whether on sale
Or priced
Excruciatingly high
To defraud my soul
Bit by metaphysical bit ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 6

Steal my words
I'll steal your fucking soul  ©
Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 5

Let the snake in the grass be
For no home shall it call thee

Forgiveness stolen
By a selfish prick t'was
No mercy left to bestow
Upon a desperate fool's head ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 4

When words have been lost
Forsaken due to lies decay
T'was love never ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 3

The clock chimes
For no reason
Time is
A quiet lullaby
To calm
My frazzled nerves ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 2

Shall I inscribe
The death
Of my muse?
Ah, I think so
Asshole that he is
Nothing more
Shall he ever be ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 1

Mud encrusted
Swaying to and fro
The dead have risen
A lower frequency 
Anchored to
They seek the warmth
Of infinity's sun ©

Karen L. Fleming

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Sample Poetry from Unsolicited Aspirations

The altruism of the universe
Granted me
Such a delicate wish
A quiet need
My specialty
Versed in galactic sorcery
Or maybe….
Just one preposterous thought
Began carving out a new future ©

Written: 10.06.15

Common Sense Observations 1: Women's Sexuality

Men have a tendency to believe any meme posted about women's sexuality, my advice to all the men sitting behind computer screens is to actually go ask a woman what she enjoys. Hint: We're all different and extremely diverse in our sexuality just as men are.

Furthermore, if you ask someone about their sexuality and they don't tell you, then that means the person doesn't trust you at all; hence, why people fuck rather than make love. Yes, most men don't realize there is a difference between making love and fucking; and if they do, then the gentlemen is a keeper. ©

Written: 1.21.16