Monthly Archives: April 2015

NaPoWriMo: Fifteen TRIGGER WARNING

TRIGGER WARNING: You had no idea

By this time, I was already being taught horrible things; I was six in this picture.

By this time, I was already being taught horrible things; I was six in this picture.

I don’t think you could possibly have meant

For me to return from where I rose my ascent

I was broken, abused, nearly destroyed

All because my father didn’t want to take away my “new toy.”

I held secrets so dark that nobody could love me

Not that way, not no way, not even the slightest possibility.

At fifteen I had not recognized the horrors I’d seen

At fifteen I hadn’t even realized it was safe to breathe

Although the constant abuse had stopped a decade earlier

It didn’t take much to re-abuse me, just be a little squirrelier.

I ran around raw as if chained to a razor blade

The slightest momentum and I’d dive back into my shade

The fears that accosted me, drove me wild with anguish

It took me a quarter century, those demons to finally vanquish.

No, I don’t think you would have, if you’d known what it means

To return to the age of fragility, loss of innocence, the unclean.

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Recipe: Crunchy Coconut Curry Chickpeas

I’m reblogging this, because if I don’t, I’m going to kick myself in the pants and I hate pants.

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Baked Chickpeas

In the mood for a crunchy and satisfying snack? Stay clear of the potato chips and processed crackers by making this delicious and nourishing treat! Chickpeas are a wonderful source of folate, fiber, protein, iron, and zinc. The sea salt gives this snack some added flavor and a boost of trace minerals. Enjoy!

Crunchy Curry Chickpeas

  • 2 cans low-sodium, organic chickpeas
  • 2 Tbsp coconut oil
  • 2 Tbsp curry powder
  • Sea salt to taste

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Rinse the chickpeas off with water and let them dry. In a large bowl, mix the melted coconut oil and curry powder together. Add the chickpeas to the bowl. Using your hands, gently mix them around to make sure they are all coated in the oil and spice. Spread the chickpeas on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Sprinkle with sea salt. Bake for about 30 – 40 minutes…

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NaPoWriMo: Valued Activities in My Poetry

Experience, Embrace, Enjoy

Southern Spring

Southern Spring

The winter haints poke billowy chill
In the clouds that pass my window sill
My sight obscuring by the white washed flowers
Coaxed from sleep by rumbling showers
I release my heater from whimpering to silent
As the spring rains come with stormy violence
I creep my window up inches by foot
Dependent on if the weather is good
The dogwoods bark perfume
As the red-buds come to bloom
The lazy flowering magnolia trees
Smell like Southern backyard orgies
I heed the spring promising summer lawns
With the haints of winter fading
Now
Gone.

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TRIGGER WARNING: Spousal abuse is no joke

The First Husband

April is Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Awareness month (among others). I am a survivor of Domestic Violence.

April is Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Awareness month (among others).
I am a survivor of Domestic Violence.

I felt the wash of rage strike through my stomach when I saw you there

With a ONETWO punch of viciousness, I cringed as if it were a physical blow

Violence flashed before my blackened eyes that have long since healed

I remembered in crystal clear detail the fire you created

That burned my possessions forcing me to be your possession

That charred my childhood into echoes of musical damnations

Removing the blessings my mother gave to me

On sunny afternoons in the plant room of my childhood home

And you, with lighter fluid in hand, me begging forgiveness

You tossing key upon key into the blaze despite my please, thank you.

There you were, glaring your judgement on my friend

Turning your nastiness towards someone I love

Every bit of forgiveness I thought I could give was erased

“I think you’re just being vulgar for the sake of vulgarity.”

Fuck you! You’d still have the wife you pledged to protect

If you wouldn’t have pulled her gun on her, or slapped her,

Or pushed her, or punched her, or threatened her, or raped her

Or abused her, or took her love and threw it like your smelly shoes, away.

You no longer are allowed access to me, you son of a bitch.

You are denied access to love from me or my tribe.

You are rebuked and are denied absolution from my heart because of your actions.

Lie all you want to the people in your life now, but we both know what happened.

We both know you are not the “Christian” you claim to be.

We both know what you’ve done.

The door is closed, return to your own hell.

NaPoWriMo: Poetizing the News of 1913

The assignment is to write the news poetically, from 1913. I express that I do not believe every cop to be a representative of his brothers and sisters. I believe there are good cops as much as I believe there are good people everywhere. If this strikes your conscience, then perhaps you need to evaluate where you stand on race. I, personally, stand on the side of the Human Race with love in my heart. I do not condone the use of violence that seems prominent in law enforcement (admittedly it is reported because it riles up the masses) currently. It was in 1913 but for a different reason even if there are strong similarities.

Negro and Phagan

Negro and Phagan murder trial headline

The Knights of Mary Phagan

The Knights of Mary Phagan no longer wear robes of white

Instead they put on the shades of gray, wear badges in broad daylight

The Knights of Mary Phagan were making “justice” of perceived wrongs

While now the blue badged brothers sing the same lyrics of the lynching song

Mary Phagan was a 13 year old girl, found murdered on an April night

When the nightwitch discovered the heinous crime, reported it forthright

Battered was her death, filthy with dust her face,

Her childish life void of life or innocence in grace

Her neck emblazoned with her own petticoat, her childish body ransacked

That the responding officers were convinced at first their victim to be black

But she was Mary Phagan, just shy of turning 14

just trying to get her paycheck, instead her labor demeaned.

Leo Frank, a Jewish man was accused of committing the crime

The evidence said he’d dragged her face down, which caused the face of grime

But yellow journalism sensationalized the slightest breath of truth

The state of Georgia ran amok chasing stories like the fabled golden goose.

After Leo Frank was convicted and sentenced to life in prison,

The Knights of Mary Phagan, refused this coward judge’s give in

They stormed against the “who cares” guards and took Frank to the lynching tree

Where they made strange fruit of the Jewish man just like they would a darkie.

Over a hundred years have passed since street “justice” faded to shade

But now we’re shown it differently, yellow faux journalism with failing grade.

And we’re told, to look over here while the story is in plain sight

So we can’t tell the difference of 37,000 days and nights

The Knights of Mary Phagan no longer wear robes of white

Instead they put on the shades of gray, wear badges in broad daylight

The Knights of Mary Phagan were making “justice” of perceived wrongs

While now the blue badged brothers sing the same lyrics of the lynching song

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The Angels That Visit

Even angels sin sometimes.

Even angels sin sometimes.

I was in desperate need, down to ten cents in the bank

I cried out in exasperation, forgetting to give thanks.

“WHY?” I begged the Universe with tears upon my cheeks.

“Have I not been obedient to everything you’ve asked of me?

Have I not gone out in frigid cold to bring the hungry food?

Have I not given coats to those without warmth? Their heat absent for good?

Did I do as you commanded and taken in sick and ill?

Did I thank you ever day for the warmth of my home and not the chill?

Have I not attended you faithfully in conversations we’ve had?

Have I not given everything you’ve asked with a happy heart not sad?

But I stand here on this physical plane with physical needs, my friend.

The debts they keep accumulating, I need some means to an end.”

I was mad enough to be yelling. I was hurt that my peace was denied

While it seemed granted to everyone else wherever I was sent to abide.

I went to sleep that evening, there was only one thought in my head

“I’m still grateful for the comfortable home and a comfy snuggly bed.”

I dreamed.

Over seven days and seven nights, something happened I didn’t foresee.

Thirteen angels showed up at my door bringing things that filled my needs.

Some brought cash, some brought food, and some brought trinkety things

But as each angel crossed my threshold, not a one of them had wings.

Instead they had on meat suits, just like the one I wear

They had gray, black, blonde, red, and even multicolored hair.

They helped me ease my burdened mind, to show me I’d been heard

And into their arms I gratefully wept, though my vision remained clear not blurred

For every angel that came to me, there’s a secret that we share

It’s that love is all around us, if we but ask for it in prayer.

These Are My People: Ray and Coral Juras

I was scrolling my Facebook feed and I found a picture of Coral and Ray looking into each others eyes while they danced together. When I first met them, it was in the social hall at the old church building. They didn’t attend the service but had scooted in to “hang out.” They were so warm and kind that I instantly realized they were kindred spirits with one another. They were just content as clams to be nearby. I loved them warmly then as I do now. This is a poem inspired by that picture I found but can’t yet retrieve.

I barely knew the sea, ne’er touched the heated sands beneath my feet

I didn’t know the lighthouse song or the foggy waves clashing the beach

I didn’t taste the salty air or dream of it cleansing cool against my skin

I never watched the tides roll the beach, tossing shells as the waves washed in

But then I looked into your eyes with the warm smile of the sun a beacon…

I am intimately aware of the soul of the sea with the heated sands beneath my skin

I heed the beckoning of your loving heart and with the lighthouse of your love sing along

The fogs have lifted where once it was shady, but you and your love light my way again

I embrace the kiss of the salty air in the dream where I get to be your spousal song

We’ll dance like the tides ebbing and flowing, splashing playful at the shore,

As I return again and again to you, my beautiful, the one the ocean dictates I adore

NaPoWriMo: Estranged and Cut Off

Songs of Nation’s Pride

I truly believed at my mother’s knee

That when I sang, “My Country Tis of Thee”

The words I sang were truer than true

That if I bled for honor, it would be red, white, and blue.

But I’ve awakened to find a land divided

Bathed in disparity, desecration of what was once united.

I was taught at my Navy Veteran Daddy’s knee

That the Star Spangled Banner was to be honored deeply

That if I sang with truth in my heart

I’d stand united with my countrymen, never to part.

I believed in the land of the free, home of the brave

But I’ve awakened to find a land of the fee, home of the slaves.

I understood from my Grandparent’s legends

That America the Beautiful open armed beckoned

The words describing purple mountains and amber waves

Breathing life into the fruited plains of graves

But I’ve awakened to find a dying fracked rocky tops

Blackened drought plains laying desolate of crops

Where my family is from in Michigan The Rapids, la Grande

Makes me, all joking aside, a Yankee Doodle Dandy

Where the emblem of, the land I loved

Was supposed to be where there’s never a boast or brag

But I’ve awakened and I’ve found this only applies to non-fags

If you’re slightly brown skinned or poor, they turn you away

Ain’t nobody got time for that, they’ll remove you from society’s gray.

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NaPoWriMo: Poetry For The Blood Flesh Bone And Spirit

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Immortal Life

The Universe beckons with unlimited views, of endless possibilities, of impossible creativity

The Milky Way skitters about like a kitten, while I chat with Orion about deniable topics

I sing a new planet to life while dancing spirals around a tangerine moon

I embrace a tree that has soft pink fur and mint green fingers that hug me back tendril-ly

My body has infinite form. It is how I discovered you searching for me at just the right moment.

Just as I am immaculate in my divinity so are you in yours, together we are creators and destroyers.

Come, let’s dive into black holes to be born again and again like an eternal slip and slide

So that we can laugh with one another in the air of different worlds,

So that we can sing in languages so ancient they’ve not been invented yet

So we can make love under waterfalls of diamonds or daisies while clouds hold us aloft

Let every trouble we’ve ever known fall desolate and lonely into the darkness

Come, let’s join as one; dividing centuries with our offspring flourishing anew each season

Let’s burn rage to the ground, wash tears from our children’s eyes, breathe death to life, and fill our footprints with the petals of flowers that sprout into massive forests of lively discussion.

Let every wonder be a present of unlimited views, endless possibilities, and impossible creativity.

NaPoWriMo: I Made This Poem

The ending lines to this poem are not on this art. Diane Crump of Wyoming, MI is the only one who has the true and intended ending of this ditty.

The ending lines to this poem are not on this art. Diane Crump of Wyoming, MI is the only one who has the true and intended ending of this ditty.

The Dandelion Dress

I want a dress made out of dandelions

And a crown made out of stars

I want shoes the color of the Milky Way

To wear to a dance on Mars

I want hair the color of rainbows

And a song as warm as the sun

Come, take my hand, my friend

Come follow me to the fun!

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