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*Posts from Before the Dawn to Cynicism and a Glass of Wine were written before the blog was created-(July 2008, November 2009- January 2010)

Sunday, March 28, 2010

The Chamber

The Chamber
By: Katie M. Moss

The warmth sustains me in my dark, lightless chamber.
The rays slide effortlessly through the bars of the window--
Leading me, begging me, to come outside.
I smell flowers, and spring, and heaven‘s dew upon grass.
I open my eyes, and  see the four posts of my own bed. 

The birds sound the same, in this still room of mine.
The flowers still flowers, and vines--
--wrap around the posts of my bed.
I wish I were dead.
How I wish I were dead.
For but to live, as happy as this--
Is quite surely bliss--my soul’s own new bliss.
Sustainable bliss.
From one little kiss.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Le Parapluie

Le Parapluie
By: Katie M. Moss

I forgot my umbrella on purpose today--
I’ll wash him away, I’ll wash him away.
Le parapluie, le parapluie
Quand il était avec moi, il y a toujours pluie.

Mais, tu-- Tu as apporté la soleil--
Mon cœur, Mon cœur
Mon coeur t'appartient.
Your energy--- it covers me.
I left my umbrella on purpose today--
I’ll wash him away, I’ll wash him away.

Every day, decisions faced, can go this way or that.
We choose, or not--- we cast our lot, into the world of men.
Agony or jubilance, triumph or defeat--
All this rain, not unlike tears, will wash all over me.
But life is fair, good fate is kind--- yet only you control your mind.
---Our rainbows now are intertwined.
I ignored my umbrella on purpose today--
I’ve washed him away, I’ve washed him away.

Thursday, March 11, 2010


By: Katie M. Moss
March 11, 2010

From there to here, I don’t know how,
Don’t fully understand, the rift between us and why--
We’ve closed the gaps, left open by hard shame and fear and--
In between, and somehow gotten to the place we--
Are right now, so easily-- it scares me how--
The ship that sailed so long ago, somehow has made--
Its way around.
To nowhere, somewhere, all around--
Is love, or something like it, in the air and in--
The water here, and there, and all the places in between us.

I no longer wish for no more mistakes--
 I only wish--
To see your face, and for you, to see--
This place that you have been, for all this--
Time and space and for my aches, and pains and something like--
The nothingness that’s been within in us both--While we‘re alone---
I thought I knew--
What we Thought, or knew, or believed--
Or even hoped.
It’s dead.
And I’m alive again.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

White Cotton Gowns

White Cotton Gowns
By: Katie M. Moss

General confusion.
She types in the archetypal click-click pattern,
As her eyes follow the dusty old keys.
This will be her new beginning.
This will be her blank life filled.

Snow on her toes as she trudges up the mountain.
Dirt in her heart as she trudges through the streets.
Garbage filled, sorrow filled, guilty streets of life.
White powder cleansing it, shards of daylight.

Brain, body, soul, up in the air.
Transcending words, transcending her cares.
Stop light. Red squares of delicious, malevolent hope.
Green is go. Jealously and luck swaying to and fro.

White cotton flowers. Strands of hair. Daffodil petals.
In the moonlight.
In the sunlight.
Ivory, porcelain.
Re-creating life.
She soaks the sunlight through her damp fingertips.
She sways in the wind of her sisters gone before.