Willow Lake Press
The following are spoke word compositions. These works are fiction and bear no resemblance or likeness to anyone living or dead. All opinions and interpretations expressed here are entirely the authors. Copyrights are held by the respective authors.

The authors are: Sylvie Being (not her real name), Lynn Hernandez, Elizabeth Hill, and Spider Watkins.
Portal - Window
We Are Not Men
Spyder Watkins © 2000

It began like a dove
It became like a parrot
It was nesting then a fly-away
A rabbit and a ferret

We are not men
For you it's easy to see dear
And if you ever think about me for a moment
You could say that I'm not either
You Are Desire
Sylvie Being © 1997

You are turning towards an everlasting love
You will be washed within the waters of the few
You can turn your head away while moving toward me
You then prepare yourself to be released and new

If you find that you are lost and left abandoned
You can depend upon me always being near
When the night is black I'll be there like a shadow
Then I begin to train your passion and your fear

Be correct when you describe your basic feelings
Try to avoid the words that say too much
Like animal lust or primal passion
Do not reveal the places you want touched

If you are questioned and cannot recite an answer
That will simplify the shadings of your soul
Let them read it in the gleaming of your eyes
Let them watch you as desire now unfolds

I am like a thing that crawls in love with you
When the darkness of your needs come into view
I am like a thing that cannot be denied
I am desire and I have come for you
Portal - Window
Portal - Window
Touch of Sin
Sylvie Being © 1997

In white she walks,
Across the lawn,
Her smile in the shade,
Of a white lace hat.

She counts all her men,
For each of them,
She stops to chat.

The fullness of her spirit,
Causes heads to turn and stare,
Each one of them,
At her command.

The movement of her prayers,
Draws the breath and beats the heart,
Each one yearning, yearning, burning,
To play their part.

She draws her hand through wheat-auburn hair,
Parting lips pout with delight,
Eyes so wise beneath her loving lash,
She knows what will and won't be tonight.

Her desire and her need,
Is to serve the Lord,
To be His tool,
His instrument.

For me and for the others
Her love will be denied,
You see her love,
Is Heaven sent.

She's a Christian with desire,
To hold her hand is to feel the flames,
In her eyes a touch of sin,
Whisper soft and sad, "You can't win."
Mob Control
Spider Watkins © 1997

People are running
Out in the street
People are sick
From tainted meat

People are watched
Can it be
That no one cares

Now it's time to take action
Before it's too late
We will find a remedy
To calm this ache

You can always bail-out
Of a burning plane
But, here on Earth
It's not the same

There's only one thing
That we can do
Go out and step on
The Blue Suede Shoes

I don't care for our
Screaming cries
If the mob control comes
You know it's bye-bye
Portal - Window
Portal - Window
I Do It
Sylvie Being © 1997

I don't know why I do it,
Encouraging desperation,
A subtle glance and a smile,
My walking vibration,
I know it hurts them down below,
But I don't care.

I've got a boy on the phone,
But I'm not alone,
In my apartment,
I finish the call,
Say I'd love to ball,
But it's late.

He goes to the door,
Thinks he must be a bore,
I kiss and tell him, "Next time."
He flashes a smile,
And I think all the while,
"Damn, I'm great."

Why do I do, what I do,
When I don't,
Want to do it?
How can I expect
Someone to care,
When I don't care?

Is my time going by,
Being wasted?
I think,
"I want it,"
But I don't dare.

Once, I dreamed a small girl,
With her ribboned curls,
Standing in a vestibule.
Her mother grabs her hand,
"You'll be damned if you do it."

A bush, thorny and dead,
Around a wedding bed,
Calls me to rest,
I move to lie down,
The thorns tear at my gown,
It's a dream and I don't understand it.

Why do I keep control,
When there's no reason to run?
How am I to fall,
When I've never fell?

Why do I extinguish love,
Are your feeling this numb?
I don't know why I do it,
But I do it so well.
Love Song
Elizabeth Hill © 1997

Gently touch my eyes
In fire-light by moon
Shimmered by the clouds
Surf rolls in nature's room

On sand we sit
And talk of times
We are together
Embraced by rhyme

As others talk
Of tomorrows' day
We close our circle
And silently say "I love you"

Lay quietly by
And watch the stars
Drift in and out
Don't go to far

Hold me in
Your strong warm arms
And we'll create
Our own love song "I love you"
Portal - Window
Portal - Window
Like A Man
Lynn Hernandez © 1997

As it gets dark,
I slip inside of you,
Duel exhaust,
And misty hue of blue.

Then we go driving,
Hop up and down,
See us driving,
In your town.

When it gets dark,
She gleams like diamond studs,
Chrome grill teeth
And chrome-plate needle lugs.

Then we go cruising,
Drag racing heats,
Slow menacing moving,
Near your street.

The dash winks at me,
At your corner's light,
Ease off the clutch,
A smooth turn into the right.

Someday my family,
Will understand,
What it means to me,
To be like a man.

Then we stop driving,
Your white picket gate,
Our low door opens,
She's here, your daughters' date.
In Love Again
Sylvie Being © 1997

It looks like love
Is coming my way again
That steamy softness that can be so hard
On a woman like me step close and see

Love is my cruel master
Who delights me with his ways
His rough kiss placed on my tender lips
He draws his life from me

He holds me in protective ways
Lightly brush my cheek of tears
He statisfies my every want
And obeys the words he hears

I've saved myself for so very long
Now this ending of my hunt
Fulfill me now with your embrace
Fulfill my hungry want

I'm in love again
I've come to understand
This passion deep inside
This longing for my man

I'm in love once more
I accept this heart of pain
My burning love
Hot as a flame

Portal - Window 
Portal - Window
Best of Times
Slyvie Being © 1998

I took a smoke
And thought of the boys I've known
A long inhale of life
And thought of the men who came after

It was a curious rememberance
At some mile-markers of my life
What I've done
What I might now do

Watching television gave me a clue
Jane and Sylvia and Gloria
Gave me direction
But what did they really know?

Life in my mother's tea cup
Or my jelly jar wine glass
Full to brimming with it
Overflowing with it

The glory of yesterday
Or the vision for tomorrow
A baby on my shoulder
A child in my head

I saw them and yearned for connection
I read them and wondered at their thoughts
I heard Joni on the radio
She reminded me "No regrets, coyote"

Joni went to a recording boss
He said, "Who are you?"
She quelled for an answer
And then said, "I am them."

She said, "I speak for others
"Who have not been spoken for."
Joni and me
Voices for others.

Her voice now chalky
My voice like hers
In organized parties called bars
Behind bars I find my freedom

Another smoke
And that's three less days
In the long procession
Does it matter?

Again I am looking to the screen
I see the end of a woman
Her life measured our lives
She was older when I was young

A lantern's flame gutters
Then goes out
Should we blame the lantern
Or blame the wind

Puff and it goes out
Match and again a flame
Should we credit the match
Or praise the ready wick

It was the best of times
It was the worst of times
It was a paragraph long sentence
A flame, a glow, then embers

But, I have this thought that it goes on forever
Daughter to mother passing secrets of life
A puff of smoke from embers
A flame reappears near the end

A line of passage?
A circle of remembrance?
Should we not think so far behind?
Should we not think so far ahead?

Winona and Hillary and Maddona
Remember when she . . .
But no
Remember when I . . .

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