Backyard Barbie Dolls by David L O’Nan – poetry

Backyard Barbie Dolls

Ethereal poses by the backyard Barbie dolls
She wants to join them
They dream unlike her,
a shallow gel over a burning world
They live a different dream
But she,
she wants to join them
Walk with a healthy strut,
red lipstick smear to smut
Pretend you’re never old,
if you want to join them
Suppress your caustic old-fashioned smile
Too crooked you’ll poison your ideal
Inherit the smirk of a dying golden rain
If you want to join them
There is a shelter you dare to seek
A natural beauty left on the brink
Hold your head over a toilet or a sink
Flush your mind into the pipes
if you want to join them
Barbies they want to play
Sucking limousines across the way
They have bleached away another perfect day
Digesting the Cancer
that lives inside them
There is a price tag on the plastic nude
She lays there crippled and rude
Overflowing in suntan oil and booze
Waiting for the eyes to join her

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren

Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now!

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

The return & revised version of “New Disease Streets” by David L O’Nan Poetry and stories

Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today!

Poem by David L O’Nan : Bleeding Money Polaroids


The prestigious hustling cupids
Slithering and horny in vinyl
Sending civility decades back.
Forgetting Steinem and MLK
While we drive in corvettes
And dress our jugulars in costumed jewelry
We’ll never have
These waterfalls,
They remain pixelated
It is like looking in from the threads of lingerie.
Look at our story,
The gamble
Sifting dirt from diamond prisons
If only we could die young,
Like artists
Wouldn’t have to pull the trigger to old-age pain,
When resting in fear –
Blue mime skinny bones in chairs of wheels.
With weathered pennies in pockets,
And 50-year old Polaroids scattered over grassy loom shag carpet.
Looking at pinpoint blur,
The visions of drunkened alcoholic uncles and other suspicious failed gods,
Making dirty carpet angels over coughed up fibers and oily hairs.
That stick to polyester like solvents of lint.
All the timelines read these pictures.
From all those bordellos and cathedrals.
Zoos with timid monkeys and barnyard elephants
Tigers on Quaaludes and broken neck giraffes
Limping to the tree with a few leaves to feed.
The mind brings back the Psychedelic Summers
To Winter bone blizzards.
Christmas presents in hands to appearing like mugshots,
Appearing like that guy suspicious to the murder of
Dorothy Stratten.
They always built clowns out of the macho,
In those times
Light will blemish us away
Our brains when teased become melting wax.
And we are nothing but the drippings from Pollock.

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren

Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now!

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

Poetry from David L O’Nan in the Famous Poetry Outlaws are Painting Walls and Whispers

The return & revised version of “New Disease Streets” by David L O’Nan Poetry and stories

Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today!

A Poetry Showcase for Rickey Rivers Jr.

man hugging his knee statue

Finally Understood

It took me a while to understand what you wrote.
I banged my head against the keys.
The words didn't correlate so I questioned their meaning.
I decided no meaning made sense.
I went to bed.
I went there angry.
How dare you write something so off putting?
I slept angry.
I couldn't settle.
You made me that way, confused, upset. 
I woke up screaming.
I got it.
What you wrote woke me up, gave life to my tears.

Cool Heads

Let us remain cool after warmed
With stress and pain
Our heads cool enough to nearly freeze
Not with numbness 
We've had enough of that
Instead with bliss
The opposite of overheating, we cool troubles away
A cool head prevails without danger of freezing
It's cold outside, it doesn't affect us
We are warmed in tranquility.

Evils of the World

For spouted lies and tales told
Chaos, destruction, death 

Father Time will punish 
And Mother Nature will morn 
For only so long

The evils of the world are often people 
The good can only suffer.
The law of the land 
History: a teacher

Am Not Muse

Muse I am not
So do not trace me

Muse I am not 
So do not draw me

Muse I am not 
So do not paint me

Muse I am not 
So do not sculpt me

Muse I am not 
So do not snap me

Muse I am not 
So do not touch me

Muse I am not 
So do not love me

No, I never said that.

Application of Learning After School

I should have applied myself better
I use to like school

But the years went by
And interest dwindled

School came with more than learning
They were distractions

No excuse
I allowed myself distraction

Who could blame a young mind?

Those things were not told beforehand
Perhaps they were 
And I chose not to listen?

You find out a lot through living.

It seems when school ended 
My will to learn came back
And it's fun again
When you're able to learn
On your own accord

Teaching the Self

Fooled by rules in school
With years in the proverbial pool

A kind of ignorance
Reality blew

A tool only
To gather information

Plenty unused after school

Learned a bit more 
After swimming on the hypothetical edge

Feet on the pavement
Gathering data

My wants I say
My wants, my way

Bio: Rickey Rivers Jr was born and raised in Alabama. He is a Best of the Net nominated writer and cancer survivor. His work has appeared in Brave Voices, Sage Cigarettes and Hell Hued Zine (among other publications). Sensurlon here:

3 poems from Rickey Rivers Jr.  : “Confidence, Anxiety, Self Doubt” “Who I am Now?” “Case of Emergency”

3 poems by Rickey Rivers Jr. “Sour Cup of Us” “Living in the Past” “The Thing about Us”

Poems from Fevers of the Mind Anthologies by Rickey Rivers Jr.

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Thasia Anne Lunger

with Thasia Anne Lunger:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences and biggest influences currently?

Thasia: In seventh grade a lady from the Erie School district came in and told us to write a poem for a city wide writing sampler. I had never written a poem.  Our teacher said to just write about something happy or sad.                                                                  I wrote about the young man across the street with three younger brothers who was recently killed in Vietnam. My first poem, which was included in the sampler was called WAR.


We go to our hill
where the wind blows
the still lavender flowers
straight and tall
for a world so small

The men in Vietnam
out there dropping bombs
with them ends peace
wont this war ever cease?

They are tired
of fighting
of dying
of everlasting crying

So we go to our hill
Where the wind blows
the still lavender flowers

Q2: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?

Thasia: In 1990 after escaping serious domestic violence, I started keeping the poems I wrote. A counselor from my past suggested I share them at a local women’s shelter. That began my career of helping abuse survivors understand they are not alone.                         I also went to Edinboro University to become a social worker so I could help more women.

Q3: Who has helped you most with writing?

Thasia: Early on in the 1990’s I met Craig Czury from the eastern side of Pennsylvania, he suggested I start hanging out in coffee shops and write about everything. I did that, and started reading in said coffee shops, and at rallies for domestic violence.

Q4: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing & did any travels away from home influence your work?

Thasia: I grew up in Erie, Pennsylvania, and basically have always lived within a fifty mile radius. I have been to Florida, Ohio, New York, California, Maine, Arizona, Texas, and all those in between. I have been privileged to read in most of those states.

I also write romance novels and they are all based in my surrounding communities.

Q5: What do you consider your most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far to you?


I have a poetry collection on the subject of domestic violence which has a warning signs list and National Hotline numbers for help.                                          That is titled; Subtle Shade of Bruise

What I am most proud of though; is my live yearly performance show now headed into year 12. It is named Women of Word with a few Man Made Words, or WOW for short. I have a troop of about ten poets who I will tell them; this year I need poems on domestic violence, PTSD, disabilities, and homelessness. My poets send me what they have on those subjects and I weave the poetry into conversations. Then we do short vignettes on those subjects. A narrator takes the audience from one scene to the next. The narrator will also inject facts and figures on those subjects.                                               It has grown substantially over the years to include a dance troop who creates dances to mimic my visions on the subjects we are covering. Sarah Foster dancing to Sounds of Silence, the Disturbed version, immediately after two veterans shared their poetry on suicide, never leaves a dry eye.

Q6: Favorite activities to relax?

Thasia: I love attending art gallery functions and poetry readings.

My other favorite relaxing activity is driving in the country. My husband and I are looking for a country property with some acreage..

Q7: What is a favorite line/stanza from a writing of yours or others?

Thasia: My hero is Maya Angelou and I love:  STILL I RISE

Everything Maya, as she too was a survivor of horrendous abuse. I use her spirit as a lantern through my darkness.

Q8: What kind of music do you enjoy? Favorite musical artists, influences, songs that inspire.

Thasia: I love writing while listening to certain music. I like most genres.. It depends on my mood. Music to write to is Ben Harper, Winter is for Lovers, or believe it or not, a compilation of the music from Crocodile Dundee! I love the didgeridoo and nuances.

I also really love Jonny Lang and his Turn Around album. It is chocked full of positive messages.

Q9: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

Thasia: Every March I do another WOW during Women’s History Month. I already have a theme and direction for the new one. A poet that has been with me from the beginning is now wheelchair bound. Each year I try to have her onstage the entire show. She interjects her comments and humor between scenes. For 2021 she was acting as a mental health counselor. 2022 Heidi Blakeslee will be behind a bar, and her poetry will be interjected advice to patrons.

I am currently promoting my two romance novels as steamy Christmas gifts and will immediately go into promoting them as steamy Valentines day gifts. The titles are; Check Mates loosely based on the old reality show Cheaters! And then Horse Sense based on my extensive knowledge of horses, and the history of Shadeland Manor in Springboro, Pa.

Bonus Question: Are there any funny memories that you can recall during your writing journey or creative journey?

Thasia: I facilitated a poetry writing workshop for seniors. And one older gal kept muttering she didn’t know why she was there. She couldn’t write poetry. I went through my whole gambit of enlightenment, and then walked the group through a portrait poem. When we got to her she read hers like a poet with enthusiasm and joy. When she finished she said; “I am a poet!”

Thank you so much for this opportunity to share what is happening in my Poetess life.

Links & Bio:        Thasia Anne Poetess/ Author

Thasia Anne Lunger is my Facebook name, please feel free to connect with me.

Thasia Anne is an Erie Pennsylvania poet who has been writing and reading since the 90’s. She has six books of poetry published through Alien Buddha Press, 5 Acre Press, and Guerilla Geneses Press. To date, she has 2 romance titles released. Check Mates and Horse Sense both through Alien Buddha Press.

As well as writing, she also has a TV show that airs on Cable Access Media. The program is called, Poetry, Prose, and Personalities, and her husband Bear is the videographer.

Her poetry production show WOW, which stands for Women of Word with a Few Man Made Words has been WOWing people for eleven years.

For WOW, Thasia collaborates with a local dance troop, Sovereign Ballet. The dancers, headed by Christina Maria, take the song suggestions from Thasia and create a beautiful moving interpretation that coincides with a poetry theme.

She may be retired, but she is still extremely active in the poetry community heading up a select group of poets for 100 Thousand Poets for Change. She facilitated a free poetry workshop in Albion and led a group of established poets for the Albion Fair. In the spring she led a group of female poets for an event called Healing Through Art at Artlore Studio, and weeks later read her poems at Artlore about Women’s Suffrage during their mannequin display show.

Together with her beloved husband Bear, Thasia Anne has 15 Grandchildren, and 4 Great Grandchildren.

A Fevers of the Mind Poetry Showcase for Adwaita Das


Adwaita Das is the author of Quantum Tango, a volume of science-fantasy stories with illustrations, Colours of Shadow, a novella and short fiction collection, as well as, the books of poetry, 27 Stitches and Songs of Sanity. Their art features in Young Mental Health: Mindscape SeriesDivine Darkness: Black Bough Poetry and Brown Bodies: The Rights Collective, amongst other publications and series. They have worked in theatre, news, advertising and filmmaking. Global speaker and creative facilitator for inclusive and innovative mental healthcare, Adwaita applies sound and imagery to address trauma and share peace.

The following five poems are from my book Songs Of Sanity published by Writers Workshop India.

Stir the sun in the brewed tea,
A pinch of silver bromide,
A spoon of pearl spit
(Posterity to add to the taste),
And they will see the reflection of the moon
In your intestines
When they slice you to make you confess.

The stars fall onto my wakefulness.
The stars tonight are alive.
Tonight this blue night,
this blue room of sky and stars,
make a wish
before all is lost.
Make a wish
although all is lost.

The games that people play
Take my breath away,
Gut me cold,
And leave me crying crumpled in corners.
I do string my words beautifully;
But this time I’m screaming for help.

Chilly seeds on widow cloth.
Fire specks dusted into eyes.
I have seen her some where
in summer,
in white.
Indian widow
using spoons
in punishment,
for reward.

Slave girl, she prepared cow dung cakes
for winter to come after rain
when she could sleep.

Wishing on stars blue and green.
So what if it’s not a fairytale
And such things don’t happen here.
The sky’s still singing for dreams.