She’s a no good harlot!
She’s possessed with evil intent.
She paints her face and wears improper clothes.
But, the winds scream Mary.
Why is she this way?
No one but she and her God know what happened to her.
One act of kindness from the Right Person-
She is healed.
And, the wind whispered Mary
My Catholic named is Mary Magdalene.
I know her pain and see through the lies.
Her invisible scars speak to me.
And, I cry MARY!
*giant nod to Jimi
Curling my fingers around you like a Twizzler in my hand,
Chewing off the top and bottom carefully as not to be noticed.
A deep inhale brings a sigh of relief and a pang of worry.
You infiltrating my lungs as if long lost friends,
Sighing out the vapor is bittersweet-I don’t want to say goodbye but I want to say hello again and again and again…
How will I stop;
When will it end?
Book of my Mother’s
a classic fete
rhymes of ancient times.
Story within stories
filled with conflict and allegory.
Your olden ghost emerges and beckons me
“Come visit me for awhile…just for a sip or two.”
And, I wander to the novel in a trance,
sit down on the couch, and drink it in.
Then, I smell my dinner burning.
Momma scoured the house every night
making sure the windows were closed and locked tight.
Like nails in a coffin.
What she didn’t realize was that she was locking the evil in-
as dad watched tv and wore out the carpet just itching his feet.
As popcorn birthing
My eye is popping, hurting
I can feel the vein
Thumping its way to oblivion
I grab my medicine bag
And produce a green and yellow capsule
Pop it in my mouth and flounce to the floor
Am I having a heart attack?
Should I have taken aspirin, too?
No, there’s some in the med.
I begin to meditate…my emergency meditations
The yogi asks if I responded or reacted
I did both, you fool
The reaction was my response
Did my heart attack me ?
I will never know
Has time passed, no
though the clock says so
I sneeze and, for a millisecond
My heart stops again.
The weird thing is I am in the exact same position as before
Only my chest aches on this stark, old, wooden floor.
Don’t believe in mystery!
Don’t give chance a chance.
Don’t buy into coincidence.
Don’t care about happenstance.
What if I were to tell you
That you are responsible for all you do?
You are. You were.
You forever will be.
Caught sleeping only once.
Speaking with your Father
into the dead off night.
How did you do it all,
Son of Zion?
Was it in my genes
To be like you?
To lie, to maim, to kill,
you did atrocities for sport;
I committed them for survival.
Survival from you, your family, your kind-
I never meant to cause pain.
Now, I am haunted and hunted by those I loved the most.
Should I go and drink the charcoal
or stay home and eat the burnt toast?
My brother was in the B-Team in school.
They told their classmates, I pity the fool.
He pulled out an ace;
So they called him Face.
When a plan comes together it rules!
Can you really change your stars?
Yes, if you wish upon a falling one.
As it turns my fate was marked in pencil not pen.
But, from out of my bereavement my blessings came.