Good night, Comedic Prince

Depression is more than just sadness. It’s trying to contain a semblance of self in a growing madness that wishes to masticate you like a cheap meal and toss you out once done.

If one’s creative, like me, outlets to frame what’s eating at you are chased and utilized to keep the voices or pangs of something stronger away for another moment or two later down the road.

Sometimes we can keep those pangs and voices at bay, and sometimes they overwhelm us so that we have no choice but to surrender.

Rest in peace, comedic prince. You did good on the journey that you were born to travel, and while we only had you for a short time, you made your mark. I will miss your talent and laughter, and whenever my pangs come through, I’ll watch a film of yours and temporarily laugh with you.

RIP Robin Williams

Gone too soon. But not forgotten.


Blame (Justice For Jada)

You blame me for the poison you drunk
You judge me for the depths I’ve sunk
You criticize me for the dress you wore
Forever omitting that you’re the whore

Be thankful I paid some attention
to the bland girl, I need not mention
I did you quite the favor
by giving some sex I’d thought you’d savor

Who told you to walk down the street at night?
A good girl doing what a bad girl does right
You shouldn’t have lied about your age
You brought on my colossal rage

Oh no sweetie
This is all on you
The names I’ve been called
What I’ve been put through

The threats to my family
The pain brought on me
You goad your legs agape
and now you dare call it rape?

©2014, Latanya M. Ivey

She, Darkness

I have a darkness inside me

I don’t know her name

She lives, nourishing me

Embodying me all the same

I hear her thoughts

I act on her vices

I speak her words

through all capable devices

Will she be an orphan? 

I don’t know

I think I’ll keep her

Where else would she go?

©2014, Latanya Ivey


Who the hell chastises a near-forty year old woman in this day and age, and thinks it’s okay?

Sexist pieces of crap threatened by their standing in the world today.

I have to leave this boring, old town. It’s not good for my soul. I feel like I’m selling out every time I exit the freeway of freedom. I need some space. Affluence does not appeal to me at all.

Playing the Game



I must be doing something right

heating the collars of those too comfy with the cold

no I don’t make deals over dinner

or give back rubs to undeserving cats

still aiding in the corruption and downgrading of America

words, meaningless words

worked ages ago, not so much now

practice some decorum and get with the program

your cause is lost and tired

wink, wink, handshake, handshake

nope, not for me and mine



I must be doing something right


Saturday –

The mothers dust off their children’s bats

tagging along with juice boxes du jour

smacking on fruit-like substances

proclaiming, “It’s organic”

Summer’s approaching –

playgroups rounded up like gnats

cheering on their mediocre child

over the true talent of the one in the back

while sipping on their boxed wine

hairy noses in the air, in need of trimming

They wag loose tongues of spite for the one

mother reading the latest novel

ignoring their chatter; yet,

adding to an intelligence level

so lacking in their cushy, bland suburbia

©2014, Latanya Ivey

Imagine What She Would Have Given the World…

…if it wasn’t for robbing banks.

The Story of Bonnie and Clyde
You’ve read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died;
If you’re still in need
Of something to read,
Here’s the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang,
I’m sure you all have read
How they rob and steal
And those who squeal
Are usually found dying or dead.

There’s lots of untruths to these write-ups;
They’re not so ruthless as that;
Their nature is raw;
They hate all the law
The stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.

They call them cold-blooded killers;
They say they are heartless and mean;
But I say this with pride,
That I once knew Clyde
When he was honest and upright and clean.

But the laws fooled around,
Kept taking him down
And locking him up in a cell,
Till he said to me,
“I’ll never be free,
So I’ll meet a few of them in hell.”

The road was so dimly lighted;
There were no highway signs to guide;
But they made up their minds
If all roads were blind,
They wouldn’t give up till they died.

The road gets dimmer and dimmer;
Sometimes you can hardly see;
But it’s fight, man to man,
And do all you can,
For they know they can never be free.

From heart-break some people have suffered;
From weariness some people have died;
But take it all in all,
Our troubles are small
Till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.

If a policeman is killed in Dallas,
And they have no clue or guide;
If they can’t find a fiend,
They just wipe their slate clean
And hand it on Bonnie and Clyde.

There’s two crimes committed in America
Not accredited to the Barrow mob;
They had no hand
In the kidnap demand,
Nor the Kansas City depot job.

A newsboy once said to his buddy;
“I wish old Clyde would get jumped;
In these awful hard times
We’d make a few dimes
If five or six cops would get bumped.”

The police haven’t got the report yet,
But Clyde called me up today;
He said, “Don’t start any fights
We aren’t working nights
We’re joining the NRA.”

From Irving to West Dallas viaduct
Is known as the Great Divide,
Where the women are kin,
And the men are men,
And they won’t “stool” on Bonnie and Clyde.

If they try to act like citizens
And rent them a nice little flat,
About the third night
They’re invited to fight
By a sub-gun’s rat-tat-tat.

They don’t think they’re too tough or desperate,
They know that the law always wins;
They’ve been shot at before,
But they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.

Some day they’ll go down together;
And they’ll bury them side by side;
To few it’ll be grief
To the law a relief
But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.

— Bonnie Parker

Summer Reading, Had me a Blast!

So, Summer officially starts tomorrow, and I have my reading list in place. Of course, if another book comes along and I have both time and space to add, I will because, well, it’s my prerogative.

1. Where’d You Go, Bernadette? By Maria Semple 

Status: Finished

Verdict: 3 out of 4 stars (I enjoyed it)

2. The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

Status: Currently reading


3. The Art Forger by Barbara A. Shapiro

Status: Unread


4. Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan

Status: Unread


5. Elizabeth, the First Wife by Lian Dolan

Status: Unread


6. The Husband’s Secret

Status: Unread


7. Until I Find You by John Irving

Status: Unread


8. The Sweet Spot by Stephanie Evanovich

Status: Unread


If you read these novels, great. However, create a summer reading list, focusing on your own interests. Just read a book already!