It was beautiful to watch

As I stewed with a low and muted envy

At how he loved her

This stranger in an airport,

beaming with pride from ear to ear

with a familiar wonder at his girl

As she effortlessly entertained their friends

Her confidence emanating from within and amply spurred on

by his admiration

She captivated everyone

Him, them, me

She laughed completely;

open mouth, teeth showing

I couldn’t hear it but I could see

Her voice moved up her throat and soaked

every single cell

inside him

His eyes shining so wholly proud and spellbound.

(c) Ruth Nineke 2018


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Until Tomorrow

You know what my favorite kind of night is?
The kind of night when time doesn’t matter
and you’re not rushing to get drunk because
you know you’ve got all night.

I like when you’re in a small space, with comfortable seating
and mood enhancing vibes, like a basement
cause even though it’s not your home
it’s a home, and in the back of your mind
you feel safe, and you’re with people who all know each other
and you like them all.

I like it when there’s no pressure
and I can drink or smoke and talk and laugh
with whomever I want
I like it when walking is so easy I could do it for a living
like on a catwalk or something until I stumble
– oops, but it’s still okay

I like when no one’s bored till damn near six
and I don’t get home till seven, and don’t sleep
till eight, and don’t realize I haven’t thought of you
since yesterday, until tomorrow.

© 2007


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Win For Losing

Woman You Cannot Win

If you believe anything they say, you’re an idiot.
If you’re always there when they call, you’re easy.

If you tell them to fuck off, you’re over reacting.
If you remind them they’re beneath you, you’re angry.

If you say you care, you’re crowding them.
If you ask questions, you’re jealous.

If you keep your head down, you’re pathetic.
If you keep your eyes in front, you’ve got a bad attitude.

If you work too hard, you’re boring.
If you succeed, you’re an attention whore.

If you get power, you’re a bitch.
If you fall apart, you’re weak.

And no one cares. Why should they?
Who are they anyway? They don’t mean a thing.

Cut your heart out.

Deep fry it. Eat it and shit it out.
Because you’ll never need it again.

All it ever did was bring you pain.

(c) 2009


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Something Extra

a little something extra

she’s so pretty.
that girl’s so beautiful.
even lifeless.
like a porcelain doll.
she’s so milky, so fair.
and those lips.
so perfect.
that girl’s so special.
she’s got it all.
i killed that girl, in the woods.
inside of a shed.
i pushed her down.
i made her cry.
i made her beg.
i cut her slow.
i fed her mud.
i gutted her insides,
pushed her heart
down her throat.
i made her ugly.
i let her die.

she’ll never smile again.

© 2005


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The Man Who Looks Like You

On the train
there is this man who looks like You
He has Your beard
Your beard used to annoy Me
so rough on My lips, My face
But looking back now
it was a beautiful thing:
the rigorous exercise,
the righteous strain of loving You
through My mouth

His bottom lip is not so
quite like Yours
but close enough
His shaggy hair makes Me miss You
I miss when You were Mine
and I wonder if I ever really felt like
You were Mine

If I could go back
I would
to touch Your face
every chance I got (I’d tell You)
I’d tell You I love You more
than this whole world
and kiss You even more often
than all the time

But You’re gone now
and I know You’re not coming back
I hold out hope
but it slows me down
So I get off the train
and leave behind
the man who looks like You

© 2010


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Honey Darling

Oh honey, darling
Don’t be so mad
The world is not against you
It’s all you’ve ever had

Don’t give into sadness
Look up and share your smile
Everything will get better
In just a little while

Hold onto hope, and
Never let your dreams go
If you give up now
Will you ever really know?

© 2008


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The Due

What great pains
to reign in my temper
this tempest,
its fury

Though, I suspect
it may just be Violence
which cures me
I persist
A passionate crusader
of Peace, Tranqility
Understanding and Patience
None of which
becomes me

And when the storm doth hit
Where then shall those evil
hands lie

Upon what forgery
shall they place their name
To which birthright of death
will they lay claim?

Silence be no surpise
A toast to nothing then
but the strength
of denial, by groups
and in herds
There’s safety to be found inside the numbers
of the vast unlearned.

To all thine comfort and illusion
may thou be eternally
Prime ruler, surveyor
dost thou mind
to believe that it owns.

© 2013


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Get Lost

Here’s a poem
Dat don’t rhyme
He don’t love me
And it is a crime
But foolish he
Or foolish me
Something there is energy
Too smart for both our goods
Dont get mad bb
It’s understood
Caught some prose
Hahaha you fucking funny boy
With your thigh gap,
Striped uniform
Gettin all the hoes
Tell me again how you don’t know
Like this life ain’t a choice
And isolation isnt
A garden
You don’t grow
Cool cool cool.


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Kitten Does Not Know Best

All curled up on your lap like a kitten
Your hand by my ear, it’s so clear that I’m smitten

And I can’t help but disclose these –
My heartfelt, romantic confessions

Partially aware that you both enjoy
And fear my dramatic lack of discretion

In these moments your tenderness is
Ever present and understood

I can read what I want to see in your eyes:
The hint of a heart which aspires to good

I don’t remember what I was on about
Anymore, or even why I started

While I wish this was easier, I’m pleased
To cover ground previously uncharted

Just to relax, listen, go with the flow
As you hold me though, I know I’ll be left

With the lingering memory of this moment
In time I’ll see, it was all for the best


copyright Ruth Nineke 2008


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This Man

the most captivating,
spellbinding man
with words
cool and smooth,
voice clear and perfect
as a summer morning begun
on the quiet coast
measly is he only in grace,
robust with everything else
his confidence is effortless
as he’s always been
convinced of his own precision
obtusely open to suggestion
he drives a caravan of empty cages
the old homes of broken hearts
he’s cupped, and plucked and
chucked along the way
some endure longer than others,
for the sentences they’d given
to themselves
others step just one toe inside
and burn
their tender feet on ages,
layers deep with passion
running they go
pride all bruised,
swallowed tears seal cursed vows
upon their lips in prudence
still, more suffer willfully
pulling shut their prison’s door
never knowing
that he hasn’t got the key
until malnourished they tumble
out from between bars
weakened, demented
granting forgiveness easily
in exchange for some morsel,

copyright Ruth Nineke 2011


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Summer’s Fall

O June!
How Romantic
How Sweet you were to me
that surge of energy you injected with your kiss
like a lemon flavored cupcake
so tart, so sugary
And how! I fell
from Grace with haste, so fast and carefree
just like a wide-eyed little child
A wild bird, I tumbled recklessly, helplessly
through a tree with no one down below
to catch me
By July, how foolishly had I thought
that perhaps I could run and hide
But why bother now
to try and deny
when the truth is I didn’t want to stop
and really couldn’t have if I tried
How quickly August did follow
with a Lion’s roar indeed,
King of the jungle he
came charging in
And I felt he’d swallow me whole,
in the very first week
his intentions were clear to me
For it was solely my ego that he meant to eat
On the ground now is where I lay
awaiting September’s virgin
Her arrival only a few short days away
So I close m eyes and to her I pray that with her dawn
A goddess might raise
her voice and beauty, truth and mission in
So many words, with so much to say
I seek her good council and strength
that we may toil and harvest plenty for winter time
When this jumpy sprite will retreat and hide, cast away
in the darkness of her cave
She will return to play again
some sunny and far off day
when after the Earth had died and dried up
She shall embrace its Rebirth as another enchanting phase
in this, Her ever-constant seasonal change

copyright Ruth Nineke 2010


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Michael J. Fox




How long?

Do you have to go?

Until you get back to center?

Where did the winds

TAKE you?

And when did you land?

How fast

were you going when

your heart

turned to sand?

Turned to sand. (that’s good)

Never mind

I don’t think

I think

I don’t


to know

I think

I think

we already know,

all of us

whether we’re waking

or dreaming

it’s all very familiar

and we know what’s happening

And now I wonder

if Freud dreamt in Dali

or how thoughts


in – flu – ence…



Copyright © 2017


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I Can Go Out Further

Real life is nothing
like I thought it’d be.
Everyday I am so sad.

All the weekdays blur
into one another.
And I’m always so exhausted,
or sad.
I don’t know where my passion went.
Pretending to be happy is tiring.
There is no easy way out of my life.

Not suicidal.
That phase of my depression has long
since passed.
Just v v tired.

I keep looking for something to do,
something to love and throw myself
head long into.

Life is me
in barely three feet of Bali ocean
when I know I can’t swim.

It is nothing.
I can go out further.

But there is
an unknowable line,
after which
an uncontrollable force
begins to pull,
from where
I will be unable to remove myself,
if I should go
too far.

And when I even remotely sense
to this line
I flip about furiously,
scraping my knees
against the very close and
very safe,
basic, and eternally mocking
ocean floor.



Copyright © 2017


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You’re Welcome

When I think of you sometimes it hurts
Terribly, actually
Because I can see your face, and hear your voice
And examine exactly the way your breath releases from your nostrils when you’ve spoken quickly, inhaled through, and shut your mouth

I can feel you too, your weight on top of mine
Your tongue inside my mouth, your lips against my ear as you tell me I’m beautiful
And I’m overcome with both desire
And grief

This torment is beneath me
How my body twists and turns against itself, and in my sheets, against this bed
On one side my back, tiny prayer lanterns set adrift upon its base
Where your palms should be
Gliding around me

But you are not here
You can’t come here
You won’t be near me for these reasons
That kill me
It feels like I’ve waited for you for so long
Like I’ve tortured myself enough, wandered about dazed, hypnotized, blinded
And then you were there

Everything I thought I ever wanted
So painfully good
So pure and imperfect and honest and kind
So handsome and virile
And brutally, obviously incapable of being mine

That would be enough
Usually, I think
If I could dispel you, the memory of your touch, the sound of your voice
The feel of you like this gigantic missing piece to the gaping wide hole in me
I just can’t ignore how much it hurts to love a ghost who’s still alive
What it feels like to want, to know your need, and be forced into denial

When I think of you, while I’m working
Or writing, or trying to sleep, or pressing my hair, or lining my eyes
When I recall and can sense the feel of your face between my thighs, your breath at my core
Suddenly my neck’s twitching, and I’m fighting against the fatalist tears of my inner petulance, my fury and rage, my decades long penance of rejection, my selfishness, my impurity, my pain
All of these things
Wrapped up in me wrapped up in you so that even the memory of our sex is a nightmare I can’t escape
And I wonder how long this will take

When will you come around
When will I come down, back to earth
When will all of this be worth something?
When won’t love hurt?



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Satisfaction’s In The Reaction

i think a lot about how we’re just the same

i see or imagine a reaction
a thread
connecting us and i think
i get you

it’s only in my head
that’s mostly just me in my feels and
my ego
dying to be right
i’m just so grossly desperate for love
that way

i want to believe
(and in that way aren’t we all the same?)
i need to believe that
if i can catch a little bit of truth
between us
if i can just tap into that
unlock you
you’ll be so happy i did
that i took the time to build on my inkling
of knowing that you will just burst all over
right through your humanity
and weakness
and mine too

and you’ll adore me for it
pouring an eternal shower of infinite
renewable and constant love
down unto my cracked and dry

i want my reward
for loving you

well no

i don’t want it i don’t
need it
i don’t believe in you or
this stupid fallacy
this imaginary
glowing rainbow of true love

it isn’t real and you all can go on
and just
fuck yourselves

© 2016


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Cloudy Blue Skies

The clouds today
in the Earth’s blue sky
layer down all around
Across the the horizon,
in every direction
for as far as the naked eye
can see
I noticed this optical joy
from the start
of my four-hour ride
It seemed as though
the sky could not hold
the speed with which
the clouds had grown
and for their part,
it looked to me,
like the clouds had decided
to compete
with one another,
to come down here
and kiss the trees
But the beauty was
how they engaged in their game
so leisurely
and I thought of you
and I thought of me
when I woke up
half way through
hour three
I saw you as great
as the earth, and every tree
upon its surface,
and I was as eager as each
and every cloud
highlighted by the sun
to drop down
a loving kiss
upon each one
So I set about
to write this out
as though words
could ever
really say
what I saw today,
or how it made me feel
Like I could ever
make you know
what you mean to me
Till I realized that
maybe you were the clouds
and I was the trees
it didn’t make any difference
Because just like nature
We’re going to be
whatever we are,


copyright 2010



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Dyin’ Nice Us

I’ve got this problem, see
I need to get my fill
cause I’m strapped
with a hunger for satisfaction
so like, I crave it,
I’m constantly preoccupied with
terrible urgency
so that all around me,
every where I look,
every one I see is raw
pure, potent potential,
and boundless
And I want some, got to have just a little taste
or so I tell myself
But then
a little becomes a lot
and I need every single last drop
You see,
with this much good around
and everyone else so deaf to the sound
I feel it’s my personal duty
to take it down
And I wont let any of it go to waste
If I can help it
I’ll wrap these two hands,
and those two legs
around everything, all of it,
whatever they can grasp
I’ll hold on as tight in these moments
as I can
because I really do understand that
nothing is permanent
neither pain nor joy, your rejection
nor my inferences
of promised ecstasy
not our kisses or
when I hold your hand in mine
none of it, not one second in time
as we know it
was ever meant to last
So, it’s with that in mind
that I intend to live
to push it, to pull it,
to climb and erect it
to break it up, tear it apart,
thrash it, and birth it,
repair, and rebuild it
Everything We could be
because every idea,
every moment, and breath
represents Infinity
and as many permutations of
our possibilities
I crave Infinity so,
I’m wild
with dissatisfaction,
hungry and jaded
palpatated, breathless,
sweaty, whiny, tired
and plain old strung out on
my addiction to life
Do you think you even
kinda get it yet?


copyright Ruth Nineke 2010



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Every Artist Has A Vice

“You’re an alcoholic, Honey.”
That’s what he’d said to me.
“And I could love you if I didn’t hate you,”
he went on, and I’d hoped he was joking.
But, it turns out
none of what he’d said was funny.
Everyone in his life had told him
to “Turn the other way.”
And I just didn’t have the
there was no fight left in me,
to bother, to beg him to stay.
Mother told me if I made it up
I’d have to lie down
in this bed, where
memories we made yesterday
and my dreams of the future
danced together awkwardly
to the beats
he played inside my head.
And I wondered,
who was this woman?
Just who’d she think she was
meant to be?
They spoke her name,
said good and faithful.
And when they called her friend,
I was certain
they were saying it to me.
The stories that she wove
into her artist’s tapestry
were variations of the same,
timeless truths:
Love brings pain.
we lose all we gain.
From death comes birth.
Whatever you create
holds value only in
whatever its destruction
is worth.
The stars speak of knowledge, brotherhood, unity.
But people worshiped carnage;
synthetic beauty,
photocopied emotions,
based on imprinted memory.
And I wanted to be real.
I tried so hard
to comprehend the very essence
of energy between two life forces,
the points where they converge,
where their souls might truly blend.
What I sought was invisible.
For no naked eye could ever see.
An imperfect human being
can barely grasp
at fleeting moments
such as these
split seconds
on the pathway to divinity.
The most I can do now is admit my own weakness,
my poor attempts at mastery.
And if I pick up a glass,
knowing I’ve already lost,
that he will always judge me,
then I suppose
I’ll just have to learn
to let that be.


© 2010



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Candy Striper

Everday I meet this candy-striper
As I’m sitting in the hall
I try to tell her
what it is
that aches me,
where my body hurts
from the fall
And everyday she stops
before passing me on by,
She says
“What are you doing?
You can’t sit there.”
And before I can even answer her,
I begin to cry
“Hush hush,” she tells me
“This is a hosp-it-al.
“We’re very busy now
“In fact we’re awfully full,
“And you sobbing just wont do.
“You’ll have to come back later,
when someone can look at you.”
“But you’re here now,” I plead,
“And I’m in such terrible pain
I think if you could just see…”
She cuts me off,
“It’s not the same.”
“I can’t do a thing for you,
“You’ll have to wait for the nurse.”
she says the same thing
to me – word for word.
And I find I often wonder,
before we meet,
if she remembers to rehearse.


copyright 2008



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Entrails & Innards

City dwelling must be
the most absurd
and costly way of choosing to die:


The hunt
for just the bare bones,
and the extinction of one’s soul
pits men and women against
reflections of themselves
in the most vile and vulgar
for glory and supremacy;
all the while
each ignorant to their shared
at the bottom of a gutter
into which
an invisible man continues to piss
away their imaginations


A heat wave of envy stews,
the awful and telling stench of death
and failure
reminding citizens to seek and find
what gaseous validation they can
in constantly complaining
about the weather.


copyright Ruth Nineke 2013



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Breaking Beauty

There’s a certain type of man
who a certain type of woman
can rarely ever tell
confidently she
can never easily, honestly

There’s a certain type of man
who looks for,
thrives on, and can almost always
make his mark

There’s a certain type of man
who loves to break a woman
like a cowboy he determines
to learn that wild beauty
a lesson in endurance,
loyalty, and obedience

There’s a certain type of man
who talks a certain type of way
as charming as a wolf speaking Latin
attired in a dark designer suit
he licks the blood of his kill behind the teeth
of an otherwise sparkling smile


copyright Ruth Nineke 2013



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The Sex Poem

when your lips met mine I
was unable to deny the pleasure
of your request
the top swiftly pulled
above my head,
on their own
seem to have fled
as your desire and intent was clear:
to have me undressed
there’s nothing tender about hunger – truth.
without “food”
physical nourishment, soon
a body will be pained, no matter the mind
how well trained
through this want; my devouring yearn
I thought I suffered alone,
at once both
relieved and increased
at your touch
I found what it meant to burn
and know
that every sensation, torture
every lie, promise, and explanation
has its turn
mine was now
you are it,
this is familiar
this, I recognize
the feeling
the moment that it hits
up go my thighs
there goes my breath
my verbal sense sounds
rise out from my chest
as my nails slide through
your sweat until
I can’t hide, can’t pretend
nor disguise the joy dripping
from my eyes and here
am I laid
not a lady, not yours
and not concerned
open and nothing


copyright Ruth Nineke 2011



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Heavy Hearted & Light Headed


The reject club sits together
two of a type, pounding aggression
it’s not what we mean but
what they say

The sky’s a bright hue of
white on grey
Thankfully, though
the rain’s stopped
for now but
It’s still cold and I barely breathe
through my nose

I put Jason on hold
Moments later
Tommy texted to ask
What’s up

I want to be sexy and quiet
deadly, alluring
not demure but
not too flagrant,
social enough not to ignore
my chances

I want to smile very little
and pose very much
I wont dance
I’ll cross my legs
and smoke cigarettes
real empty-like


© 2011



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Pink and Dissolving

why do drunks drink
nothing about it
dulls the pain?
not the drink,
rarely the music…

the natural noise of the bar,
consistent and ensuing
only amplifies the hurt,
and rejection
the truth
inside your own mind
that you are unloved, unwanted…

alone and desperately adrift
rocking a rotting boat,
at the center of the ocean
no sails, no compass
no captain, no first mate
into a rocks glass of scotch
you are simply
a speck of eye shadow,
pink, and dissolving.


copyright Ruth Nineke 2015



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Possibility Is A Girl’s Name


I’m pregnant
with Possibility
Future soon to be
brand new,
a world deep, unseen
exists inside me,
Now is True Reality
in Dreams I hold my girl
she’s always lost
but comes to me
when I find her
in each other’s arms we are
and though,
careless as I may be
she waits
in Tomorrow, so patiently
for me
to see where roads
come together
though sad is she
at my unwelcome delay
how understanding is this babe?
For she knows
the waking life is built on haste,
a blurry
worrisome hurry
filled with inconsistencies,
barely a moment to waste
in Forever time
this darling Light of mine
has no reason
to complain
Grateful to me,
as I am to her,
for in conception
she has made me a mother,
Earth moistened,
ready dirt
And she, the tree
could only grow,
can only be
so long as I roll the die
of fate
and do not try
fully embrace
the invisible tangibility of
in this context
I would only exist
in that vision
if she did
And my girl,
soon to be
wonder of my world,
the daughter named
comes through me
in labor,
the Present
of my will


copyright Ruth Nineke 2010



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The Cold Winter

The cold winter’s beauty

is buried inside

walls whitened

with Saturday’s mid-morning sun,

down under

comforters that bathe

and encapsulate our skin

in deodorant

and last night’s cigarettes

We awaken

without alarm

welcomed to reality

by the possessive radiator’s


hiss and clamor


© 2013



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He was thin and exquisite,
a beauty by precision
like one of those fine tipped
and expensive,
art pens
the kind he used on his illustrations

He seemed absolutely crafted and
intensely committed to
his appearance:
all black with RayBans, tats
part on the right side,
the placement of his pants
only slightly an inch below
his square waist

His face was a teenage dream
elusive delicacy adorning stoic
lack of emotionality
made him tremendously
close to
impossible to read

He was not long
he was not muscular
or particularly virile in form
No, he was not a sculpture – hand made
and he didn’t much look as though
he was ever meant to be touched
by anything
other than the instrument of his choosing


copyright 2013



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Johnny, Come Quickly

Johnny dumped me on Easter Sunday
cause I started what I couldn’t stop
I should’ve known a lot better
To pull out before I blew my top

Sometimes you have to push and shove
Batten down the hatches
You’ve gotta be persistent if what you think
You’re fighting for is love.

But Johnny isn’t having it
Johnny isn’t mine
Johnny’s a cold-hearted bastard
And Johnny will be fine

Men love whores
And a whore can’t have a heart
Because a man doesn’t need that
Just warm welcoming legs to part

Johnny said this one thing
And I’m sure he’s a said a couple
But something had a different reason
When I figured out Johnny speaks in double

Strong versus weak, stupid versus smart
Johnny says he’s sorry I had to take it that way
Like it wasn’t him who turned on me
Like it wasn’t him who broke my heart

I spent a few hours crying
In the middle of the night
Wondering what she had that I didn’t
Until I realized none of that was right

She has nothing to do with me
Because we’re not in a race
And if Johnny had any sense anyway
He’d know I always come in first place

But it doesn’t matter now
Cause as of today we’re through
And both me and Johnny can get away
With whoever it is we wanna do

© 2010


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