not sure what to do
with my hands
so i over gesture
when making small talk
which i hate a lot
i don’t care
what your favorite color is
i want to know why
you walk heavy
with stillness
in your eyes
(C) S. Lynette, 2025
not sure what to do
with my hands
so i over gesture
when making small talk
which i hate a lot
i don’t care
what your favorite color is
i want to know why
you walk heavy
with stillness
in your eyes
(C) S. Lynette, 2025
I had no intensions of writing this book. I was preparing my book Awkward Years last year for publication which was the product after a long battle of writer’s block. I was proofreading when the line, “I’m not dead”, popped into my head.
What most people don’t know, last year I was silently dealing with getting a divorce due to being married to a porn addict who was also a hypochondriac on top of a narcissistic, unemphatic pathological liar. I was married to someone who tried to make me believe I was less than human. Someone that thought could mold me into what he wanted me to be. I was called fat, I was ridiculed for what I ate. I was promised things with no follow through, ever. I was blamed for the porn that was downloaded on my computer because “he would never do that”, so it had to be me. Family and friends were pulled on puppet strings and fell for every last lie that came out of his mouth. I could keep going.
One thing he had wrong. He messed with the wrong girl. I can’t be played. I’m not dumb, I wasn’t born yesterday. I stood my ground, called him out on his shit and he didn’t like it. In the end, I blame no one but myself. I knew after being married a year that this wasn’t going to end well and I played along to figure out a plan to rectify the horrible mistake I made. Anyway…
I’m not dead was stuck in my head and I decided that was going to be the title of my next book. I’m not dead became my motto. I was going to rise above this tragedy that should have never happened and I am going to reclaim my life. But this book would end up being more deep and powerful than I was planning.
At the same time as my divorce, I was also going through things that no mother should have to go through. I will not go into details but I will share things that are already public knowledge. My daughter had attempted suicide more than once and spent time in and out of the hospital last year. I can’t explain how I had the strength to keep going. I don’t want to say I survived because we are still working on powering through. But I will tell you, this last year had tested me in a way that I hope I never have to experience again. After all this, I am a believer that I will get through pretty much anything that comes my way. I have learned a whole lot and that in fact, IM NOT DEAD. And yes, I got the ok from my daughter to use this title under the circumstances because I did not want to offend her or come off as insensitive even though the title was thought up BEFORE her challenges. I feel like I must share this because I know what some of you are thinking and I will nip that in the ass right now.
I’m Not Dead is extra special. The plan for the cover was supposed to be me wearing my burnt up wedding dress (which is a metaphor for those who are a little slow) but as it turned out, I couldn’t fit into it so I had to go to the next best thing, my daughter. Well, she totally nailed it. I have gotten more compliments on this cover than any other cover I’ve come up with. And I have to agree. She captured the mood of the book not only for the cover but in all the photos in the book, more than perfect.
By far, this book is the one I am most proud of. I hope you give this book of poetry a chance. I’d love to hear your feedback about it, good or bad, and I encourage you to write a review on Amazon if you do take the plunge and decide to purchase it.

flower venom
field of glass
museum of the arts
beautifully flawed
midnight tongue
reckless rhymes
sliding down your throat
writings on crooked pages
plasma blossom ink
smearing dotted lines
keepin men’s splines chilled
in the wine cellar
and you scream out for more
(C) S. Lynette, 2023

hearts bleed secrets
cutting lines
living in circles
can make you blind
there have been hints
written in the sky
that are hard to read sometimes
worlds collided from there to here
on chance shaped by
background noise
and spilled ink
no gimmicks
no roadside flairs
nothing is what it ever was
chrome cities
shiny toy guns
fucked up love suicide missions
that was then, this is now
new abandon temples to hollow out
but not alone
the wanting to
hide behind raspberry bushes
and reshape the sun, with you
get drenched in syrup
from your smile
feed on energy
from burning planets
from words that escape our lips
that may not last forever
i don’t know what this all means
but time is never lost
when the nights are young
when sleepless hours
break walls made of glass
silence always reveals the truth
but i’m here to say out loud
maybe someday i can touch your face
and call you mine
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
(Lady on a Wire and Mike Zone collaboration)
the mind is a weird mechanism
moving into exile
anytime on purpose
a reservoir of secrets
burning alive with
subliminal messages
of rebound history lessons
shaped with shiny flakes of spiderwebs
getting thrown in the wind
but never finds a place to stick
there are no happy accidents
and this world is turning to shit
feeling exposed with dark matter
bubbling up from the center
it’s part of the universe
made from radioactive waste
of distant suns
where orchestrated desires
will only last for so long
space diamond dust
will pepper the fire
with its nuclear waste
metal
no one’s safe from
marching ghosts
raking over coals
from one dimensional space
random thoughts
raw desires
whirlwinds of counterfeit
romances
all tucked away in the
asylum of locked doors
where hollowed out metaphors
walk alone
fuck love
i said fuck love
it’s all going to shit anyway
and all that’s left is our dead eyes
trying to save us all
(C) S. Lynette, 2023 (from Razorville)
(Lady on a Wire and Mike Zone Collaboration)
geometric shapes
written out in morning stars
testing time through
the burning hourglass
messages hidden in
flying trapeze acts
goth clowns raising havoc
on the tightrope
chasing the dark
through paranormal glances
sideshow headliners
steal the souls of onlookers
winter chills
silent screams
summersault through
the burning ash of dreams
puppeteers stretching truths
in this museum of the dead
the world waits for a new
cabaret to turn
lady on a wire
mr. zone
magicians of the darkness
owning the limelight
with graveyard antics
they don’t play with
with disjointed fools
come one, come all
this is nothing short
of a three-ring affair
desperate jesters, unicycle monkeys
junkies for the thrill
all try to play along
with their own dismal stars
snow begins to fall
coating the big top
like a weighted blanket
exhausting the spell to
hypnotize the masses
time ends eventually
light fades
blackness falls
leaving silence between
unmeasured fault lines
until the next day comes
(C) S. Lynette, 2023 (from Razorville)
(Lady on a Wire and Mike Zone collaboration)
you write a bold anthem
within this junkyard fantasy
black omens rise above
secrets etched in the woodgrain
ball busting atomic winters
i was made for this
murder for ransom with notes
written on war paper planes
traveling in dream time
in a post-apocalyptic suicide mission
tragedies will circle the ruins
half past noon
riddles are found etched
on the bones of our ancestors
maybe the origin of
mockingbird affairs are
found there
the prophet will graffiti
the city with forged promise
ask questions to the burning tree
shadows that bend backward
disappear
but i tell you
they do come back
with razorblade edges
in their eyes looking for
deep throat advances
this world has plenty
of origami lifelines
crashing them into manic
moon waves
reading scriptures
from the book of mirrors
under a dark veil
you turn a page and say
you can’t win them all
so with that i say
i’ll keep your balls
right where i want them
for now
(C) S. Lynette, 2023 (from Razorville)
when a siren sings
everything stops
strangers
village idiots
dead beat comrades
all want a piece of what we have
tossing away thoughts to the floor
makes vacancies for more
burning desires from
across state lines
for each other
we are parasites on parade
feeding on the others ink from pens
romanticism
star gazing
dancing a waltz for lovers
between the sheets
living abstract
touch my lady bits
with your long measured
free verse
visual moments of
light and color
filter tones
between my thighs
forged letters
will become unmasked
swallowed into their own
burning ashes
fraudulent cities will crumble
against their paradoxes
and turn to powder
they can’t have what they
thought was theirs
bone and teeth
poems and blood letters
from sacred vaults
they can’t bring us down
we already own the night
as we become one body
and will make it a relic
to our forms
-S. L 2023

i like when
you talk those
big words
your sentences
glide across
my thighs
those eyes
wanna learn
the secrets
they hide
butterflies
migrate to
my belly
any time you
say my name
can’t wait till
your lips curve
around my…
and do it again
hold me close
lose your
fingers in
my hair
until morning
comes
(C) S. Lynette, 2023 -from Kissing Strangers, Coming Soon!