Here it is! My first book for your pleasure and convenience. It’s only available on e-readers right now, but it should be out in paperback soon. Please download!!! 🙂 Thanks for all of your support!!!


Let us Pray

     She sat with her head bowed and her eyes closed. It was hot and she felt her dark, thick curls begin to stick to her forehead. She reached her hand up to touch the stocky shoulder of the man next to her. As if he knew her intentions, he opened his eyes and glared.

      “Don’t,” he snapped. “Head down. Be respectful. Pay attention.”

        She instantly snapped her head down, but she couldn’t close her eyes. She could feel the heat radiating from the bodies around her, and she shifted uncomfortably. Her hands were squeezing her black skirt causing it to wrinkle and expose her black stockings. She would be respectful and pay attention, just as her father instructed.

          A man started speaking. His voice echoed throughout the silent room. His voice was enticing, an intoxicating sound that captured the girl’s attention. She found herself clinging to his every syllable.

          The man’s voice was deep, seated way back in his throat. His consonants were crisp, taking away the possibility of sleep. She could hear his strength in his words, and she felt a draw to the man. Her instincts advised her to stand and approach him, to hold out her hand to him, but she kept her body firmly planted on the wooden bench.

         His voice rose in pitch and intensity. She could feel the entire room start to sway. The man on her right began to rock gently. Forward. Back. Forward. Back.

     A woman on her left let out a small moan. The girl lifted her head.

     The congregation of people had their eyes closed, bodies moving to some un-known music. Yet, it wasn’t unknown. It was the man’s voice. She could feel it building in her blood.

     The volume of the man’s voice rose again. The congregation responded accordingly. More moans could be heard from other people throughout the crowd. Her heart started to race.

     The woman next to her started to wring her hands together. Her mouth was moving, but there was no sound escaping her lips. The man on the girl’s right starting pulling at his tie and collar. Beads of sweat were dripping down his face.

     The speaker’s voice sang out, calling, deep and passionate. His words were cascading notes with trills and a strong melody. The sound melted in to her, hot and sticky. She gasped for breath, and snapped her eyes closed. His voice pounded her, over and over and she felt herself surrendering.

     Members of the congregation began to cry out; she heard their cries, sharp and frantic against his control. She ignored them. All that mattered was him and his voice.

     It engulfed her, and she allowed it to take over. Her body began to shake and shiver despite the growing heat. Her breath quickened and moans began to escape her lips. She thought it was beautiful, her sound with his, and so she continued until she too was crying out, her body moving uncontrollably. The cries of the congregation turned to screams, but she heard him, deep and strong and clear over the commotion. The music grew and so did her passion and excitement. She couldn’t stop. The bench began to shake with her movement. His strong voice penetrated her, causing hot liquid to flow from her eyes. She sucked in a breath of air and let him fill her. Like the beating of a drum, his voice became a rhythm that pounded into her. Slowly it grew in strength and speed until she could no longer breathe. Her passion melted into his fire until she screamed and with a loud shout from the man, the music stopped.

     She collapsed onto the bench with a sigh and a moan. Her clothes were soaked and her ears pulsed in time with her heart. His voice found her again, cradled her, warming her exhausted body.

     “Let us pray.” 

Publishing, Pictures, and a HUGE THANK YOU!!!

So, I know that I haven’t been posting much recently. This is because I am working on a new book and that seems to be consuming most of my time (outside from having a job and other everyday activities), therefore, I have not posted anything lately. But, the good news is that the book is almost done!!! Just waiting to hear back from my editor and a few others and we should be set to be PUBLISHED!!! 

The book is a book of poetry and has taken me a good bit of time to compose and make it right. It will be called Song of a Siren by Riza Exile (that’s me!). It will be published on Kindle first. I’ll let you know when it comes out. 

Other than that, I’ve been trying to de-stress myself from the formatting, editing, publishing process by taking photographs and editing them. I’m finding that I rather enjoy it. I thought I would show you some pictures for your enjoyment (well hopefully!). 

Also, I wanted to say a huge thank you to all who follow me. You have really given my the courage to push this through. I’ve been very nervous about publishing, but your support has really helped. THANK YOU!!!!

Well…Here are the pics! Hope you enjoy and thanks again. More info on the book soon! Image

A Child’s Heart

This is a little short to hopefully bring a smile to your day. 


A Child’s Heart 

When in doubt, use superglue! The advertisement echoed through his mind. He looked at the broken vase on the floor and then at the superglue in his hands. He was in doubt, but he thought to try. Picking up the broken pieces he started gluing them back together. He couldn’t really remember the exact shape of the vase. His mind wandered and soon the broken pieces began to take another form…

          The front door opened and the boy’s mother walked in with groceries. The boy looked down at the figure that was once a vase. He knew he needed to tell. Maybe she would like this new masterpiece. He brought his work to the kitchen table and watched as his mother put groceries away.

          “Mom?” he interrupted. She looked up at him.

          “Yes dear.”

          “I accidentally broke your vase. I knocked into the table and it fell over. I’m really sorry.” He looked away from his mother’s stare. “But I tried to fix it,” he added hurriedly. He walked over to the table and picked up the old vase pieces and presented it to his mother. “I used superglue,” he said as he handed over the newly formed heart. 

Ode to a Tear

A beautiful oval hangs in the sky.

Its transparent nature opens the heavens.

How I can see through this other worldly gate!

What wonders lie in its crystal gaze!

Bright stars amid an icy black ocean,

suns that burst, their pieces shooting

into the elliptical gate

the portal sliding into oblivion.

I wish I could catch that sinking drop,

could hold it in my hands this tiny

crystal that contains all.

O glorious drop of stars and suns,

I will listen to you as you fall and

perhaps, my wish will come true.  



Poem to my Husband on our Wedding Day

I’m going to be very honest here. I’m not the best at love poetry, so when I decided to write this for my husband for our wedding day, it took quite a bit of thinking, teeth pulling, sappy romance songs, chocolate and revisions. I’m still not convinced it works.  

Poem to my Husband on our Wedding Day 

As sweet and soft

as the warmth of lullaby

that enfolds me in its sacred heart


As the light of

the guiding stars 

that keep faith

in the depth of night


As the moon highlights

the river’s gentle curves

and gives harmony to

the melody of rest


As the wind licks the

branches of the trees

and nestles to find

the strength of home


So our love sings together

a song through the ages

solid as stone

two souls now one


Please do not read this if you have any sensitivities to what was mentioned above. As someone who has been through some rough experiences, I understand how these things can make one feel. Please read at your own risk. 

Also, for those of you who have to have perfect grammar, the grammar inconsistencies and mistakes are in the piece for poetic purpose. 

Letter to Rapist

You thought yourself strong as you pushed me down on that bed and striped me of my dignity, tossing it on the cold floor. You thought I wouldn’t mind if you took me, bent over, while the world around me turned black and shattered. You thought it was ok when I was drunk and laughing, but I wasn’t laughing when you broke my trust. It wasn’t ok when I woke up to you next to me, your hand groping for that secret place inside me. You thought it was what I wanted, even when I said no. Even when I screamed and cried, pushing you away. Even when I passed out, naked and broken on the floor. Even when you touched me as if I was a porcelain doll, afraid to crack something you found so fragile, then proceeded to fuck me so hard I bled. It wasn’t ok.

But in your eyes, the world’s eyes, this pain was my fault. In your mind I loved you, wanted you, craved you. I needed to be violated as you tethered me to the bed and blinded my eyes with handkerchiefs I used to tie back my hair; that was your delusion. And when you were done with me, you picked me up and tossed me aside like a used rag. You didn’t care who I was. You didn’t care about me. All you wanted was a quick lay, and you didn’t even ask. You just took. And so now, I am another trophy, another notch on your belt, so you can go and tell your friends, “Hey, I had sex with her.” And at that moment, I bet you were proud of yourself. But when you saw my tears, heard my pain, it became my fault, my problem. The guilt strangled me, cutting off my air until I could no longer breathe. But it was my fault.

My fault.

It was my fault that you felt the need to assault me, rape me, destroy me from the inside out until I no longer wanted to live because who could ever love a piece of trash. And I didn’t dare go to the police. Why would they help me, when it’s my fault? Why would I want to fight the court system? Be violated by doctors and tell my story over and over until it becomes my life, my world, just so you can laugh and say that you did nothing wrong and that she’s lying? Besides, I didn’t want to deal with another man, not today, afraid and alone, wounded and crying.

I wonder how many other women you have done this to. I should have been smarter. I should have listened to the rumors. I shouldn’t have gone off by myself. I shouldn’t have trusted you, but I did. And for that I am sorry, not for your actions or what they did to me. I am sorry for my own crimes of which I am only guilty of being the girl foolish enough to believe that you were different. I wish I hadn’t been wrong.

But through this pain, I have become stronger. I will not be kept down. I will not be silent. I will not stop. What you did to me was wrong. I am not a trophy, a rag, or a piece of trash. I am a woman, strong and alive. After you spent so much time and effort destroying me, I can say you failed. I know life. I know the meaning of true love and companionship, strength, courage, and beauty. You? All you’ll ever know is the company of your hand as you jerk off to the Eagles or Bob Marley every night. I’d say I feel sorry for you, but I’d be lying. Hey, it’s your own damn fault.