13 | A True Poem About Domestic Violence


13 years ago
I loved a man I didn’t know
I knew he was violent
But justified my swoon
I thought I was safe
Because he’d take me to the moon

I’d known him two weeks and a day
And let him fly me far away
I went with blindly out of bliss
The bruises hurt less then his kiss

A year later I accepted
That one day I would die
At the hands of the man
That I’d hold when he would cry

I wanted to love him so much and so long
That even my death would be like a love song
I wanted to show him that no matter his way
My love was unbending that my love would stay

I remember this moment; I blacked out and came to
He was holding me weeping and my love for him grew
The secret between us though anti beau monde
Felt like a foundation that strengthened our bond

But my child got older, started noting things around
saw me weep as his dad held him while beating me to the ground
It was slow motion when my boy’s eyes and mine locked
I’d never seen my innocent child so hurt, scared, and shocked

I would’ve stayed forever, I’d accepted my own end
But I couldn’t let my baby grow up in a stitch that few can mend
So I got up, grabbed my son, and pushed my husband out the door
I called the man, husband ran as I cleaned my piss up off the floor

13 years ago, I loved a man I didn’t know
Perpetually throughout the years I’ll fight the seeds he’d sew
13 years later I can’t count the times I’ve wept
I cry for him, his broken heart and the love he couldn’t accept

~Sarah Davenport 2014

Music, Poetry

In Two Years


I don’t care what you say
I’m keeping watch
In two years
In two years
A smashed glass dawned with scotch
Spain and bullfighting
Horror movies
And sleep
Rain and night writing
Androids dream of sheep
Laughing and fighting
Fucking so deep
That no strike of lightning
Will destroy what we keep
Shut the fuck up
Say nothing at all
Just wait and you’ll want it
More than you want the banal
Shut the fuck up
And don’t think of love
Think of lost kitten
Metamorphosis Dove
Shut the fuck up
Break all the mirrors
I’m keeping my watch
In two years
I’ll be smashing a glass full of scotch

Music, Poetry

El Rancho


Roll up in green Datsun strolla’
Whip it in El Rancho pulla’
Bump the luggage up the rolla’
She never did what mama told ha’

Bed got holes from cigarettes
Ashtrays full of hair barrettes
Tiny soap folded towelettes
She comes through with all her threats

Bang it
Pop it
Stick it
Lock it
Treat it like a shot and drop it
Ain’t no use in tryin’ t’stop it
She got he fingers in her pocket

Her legs got cuts from shaving dry
Highway stretchmarks down her thigh
Scars from pins above her eye
But she takes he up to heaven’s sky

If she not happy no one colda’
If she cryin’ don’t try to hold ha’
She losin’ grips – shits gettin’ olda’
She never did what mama told ha’

~Sarah Davenport *Davs 2014

Music, Nature



Listen to lyrics put to music HERE

There’s no reason
That I should be afraid
I’ve been played
It don’t matter
Just another nom de guerre
He will just fade
And tomorrow
I’ll be in another mood
That’s all good
I’ve lived worse

Always could


Before I know it
Someone better will be here
Getting near
I like cliff diving
I’ve made falling my career


I’ll be happy
Everyone thinks I am a mess
That’s ok
If they knew me
They’d think of me even less


Nothing matters
Except the color of your eyes
When you’re crying
Is when you tell your biggest lies


~Sarah Davenport 2014

Music, Poetry

Where’s The Old California


Where’s the old California, hippies making peace signs with their hands
Where’s the old Oklahoma, a good old southern country bands
Where’s the one I called my love-r – – – The one I left for an-other
When we were young and time was wrong
He’s been waiting for me ever since I went free
To come back home where I belong

Where’s the old-time piano, a player singing in a dive
Where are all the people dancing for no other reason
Then to know that they’re alive
Where’s the one I called my love-r – – – The one I left for an-other
When we were young and time was wrong
He’s been waiting for me since I went free
To come back home where I belong

Where’s our old picnic table, carving, singing, drinking beer
Where’s that little surfer wagon that would take us far and near
Where’s the one I called my love-r
The one who kissed me like no other
When we were young and time was wrong
He’s been waiting for me since I went free
To bring me home where I belong

~Sarah Davenport 2014

Music, Poetry

I Might Be Fucked


I might be fucked
One way to tell
Jump and go to heaven
Or fall right into hell
I’d rather jump
And know I tried
Then a purgatory
Sunday ride
I’d rather trip
And shit my pants
Than say I never
Got to dance
I’d rather be judged
And fall out of favor
Then drink the koolaid
And die on it’s flavor
So I might be fucked
I might go down
I might lose at all
I might be a clown
But I’d rather
Be fucked
And a failure
And grin
Then run in a rat race
I never wanted to win

~Sarah Davenport 2014

Music, Poetry

Name Dropping


I was born with the weight of the world on my chest
My life through a cardiac arrest
I’ve never known which color I like best
Everything’s a double entendre
But there’s no more Mae West

I just want a car to sit inside of
Buckled in like a machine glove
Going seventy on a long desert drive
Looking out Hitchcock’s Rear Window
At destruction survived

All I want is some land wild things all around
Laying flat in the brush my body the ground
An echo of Annie Oakley’s gun through the trees
Nothing to do but sort memories

No one really knows not even I
What it is that’s been 30 years stuck in my eye
And I’ll never get used to the things I can’t see
And Kevorkian can’t even clear out the debris

Take me home gravel road take me home rusty car
I’m tired and hungry and travelled too far
Take me home broken tape deck no more Fred Astaire
Let me sleep for so long that I dream like Voltaire