I just want a corner to lie
down in.
Pull the covers over
my heart.
Let it get buried in
snow.
Somewhere underground
where the coordinates get lost
A hideout from worry and the
slow burn out of life.
My calendar whited out.
My fingers too cold to hold.
My lips too raw to kiss the end note.
And I can live in the moment
before.
A frozen vessel alone
in the stillness.
My soul encased in a thousand
miles of Arctic air.
-Tosha Michelle
Sometimes all I can think
about is chocolate cake.
Sugar seeping into my
parietal lobe.
I run my fingers through
your blonde hair, stroke your
teeth with my tongue.
We move like batter
Clinging to each other
Stumbling around the
kitchen.
Desire in an embrace
You flutter to my
fingers, and I beg
you to give away
the recipe.
Knowing how this girl
butters to Southern charm
and blue eyes and measures
her life in spilled
flour on the floor.
Going under in a
flood of batter.
Gluttony in a three
piece suit.
I dream in dark
decadence and open
my mouth and heart
to confectionary splendor.
Happy to get lost in
frosting, strong arms
hard kisses, and oven
baked seduction.
-Tosha Michelle
Hello lovely ones. Greetings from the land of confusion. I have a favor to ask. As some of you know, I host a podcast with my beautiful friend Jane called Chit Chat Chicks. We bring you the latest in entertainment and good old fashion snark. Some of our past guests have included Norman Reedus from The Walking Dead, Allison Burnett, known for movies like Fame, Autumn in New York and Gone, and Ericka Eleniak from Baywatch
We have started a blog for the podcast. If you are so inclined we would love for you to follow us. I’m not sure where we will lead you, but I can promise it will be a fun trip. We will also follow you anywhere, but if you could direct us to a chocolate store, that would be great. As always, thanks for the support. The WordPress community is one of the nicest. Really happy to have connected with most of you. Ha! Happy Thursday.
You can find us here: Chick Chat Chicks Blog
When my life becomes
hard. I write away in
my notebook of dreams
that lives on my desk.
I take a short cut through
ink to be with it.
My pen
of angst spilling out
particles of love. desire,
fears.
I wonder how the pages
can ingest them all. My
constant purging of
emotions. Trying to
convey with words
truth before time
distorts it and it
becomes an artifact in
the Museum of
UnNatural History.
At times the fog
likes to exert control
over my verse. Longing
tend to be blind to
reality and reason.
It never sees things
as they are. The poet
trying to alter the
past and its asterisk
Poetry becomes a
contraption of denial.
Truth fight its way
through pages
watermark by tears
to sit on my back
like a weighed
pack, pulling
down hard on the
straps. Reminding me
how flimsy
my poetry and life
would be without it.
-Tosha Michelle
I liked the Tin Man song so much, I decided to do a cover. Hope you’ll give a listen
Hey there, Mr. Tin Man
You don’t know how lucky you are
“I’ve been on the road that you’re on
It didn’t get me very far
You ain’t missing nothing
‘Cause love is so damn hard
Take it from me, darling
You don’t want a heart”
A photo I took recently and my favorite Adele song. Happy Sunday. Hope it’s one to write about and remember. 💕
Please excuse my absence. I have doctor’s note. Ha. Just not from that kind of doctor. You guessed it, a witch doctor. Ha! In reality, currently working on my post graduate degree. It’s keeping me pretty pretty busy. I haven’t had a lot of time to write poetry. I did take a day trip to the mountains recently and thought I would share some photos with you. Miss interacting with you all.
I’m tired of being love’s
recruit. I want to enlist
in hate
I wish there was a dose
of something that would
make me care less.
I’m tired of doing math, I
forgot a long time ago.
Tonight, I want to get
wrecked and call it
victory.
I want to sleep on the
deathbed of empathy.
and be reborn a cynic.
Instead, I’ll wake
tomorrow. Victory
sinking and thinking
love is as necessary
as a soul patch to
a hipster.
Never content to let
it rest. Always trying
to stitch it and people
back together.
Always a sucker
for Mahler and his
tragedies.
Always in tune with
the birds weeping
in the trees.
Never content to
hide in dark places
with the moon.
Always making
something out of
nothing that
isn’t there.
-Tosha Michelle
Old school style. Happy weekend, beautiful peeps xx
“Why do you keep a comin’ around playing with my heart?
Why don’t cha get out of my life and let me make a brand new start?
Let me get over you the way you gotten over me, yeah, yeah
Set me free why don’t cha babe
Get out my life why don’t cha babe (ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh)
‘Cause you don’t really love me
You just keep me hangin’ on
No, you don’t really need me
You just keep me hangin’ on”
Everything I Never Told You 