I heard the winds of petitioning change howling ‘cross my floor
With courage bound beneath my wings, I opened up my door
The zephyr stole the tendril rooted as a graft for something more
Then whispered inspirations of hope to lift me up to soar
The torch of passion lit a match within my questing flame
to engulf the hearts of lovers true so they would know my name
The fuel that sparked me from the hearth that offered me fair game
has rallied blazing scars of power, on which to stake my claim
I felt the waves of transitional change sprinkling on my skin
The enterprise crashed over me, before I knew to swim
The tidal pools they pull me down beneath the spiraling spin
But the riptide it allows me surf; to shore it brings me in
My feet were planted firmly down beneath the molding clay
which were planted in the sanctioned soil that sent me on my way
The rocks beneath my nomadic feet gather no moss today
The earthen field I stand upon gives gardens of rosy bouquets
You confessed that death equals love
pain equals love. You are alone.
Suffering solitary confinement for life
with shadows of who you dreamed of being
reflected in the mirrors of their burgeoning souls
warming your icy skin with alien affection
you won’t afford to give yourself.
As you stare at the distortion created by the bottle,
that screams generations of return,
understand that love does not equal pain
or loss or abandonment or unnecessary sacrifice
or lies, deception, theft, loss of integrity
or tears of begged forgiveness forgotten immediately
when the other “Lady” comes knocking
with sharp shaved heads, steaming lips,
and nothing but broken promises.
You select the path. You get to choose now.
It will not be long before it will no longer be your choice.
It will be out of your hands. Choose now.
I have discovered a magic within
one that depends not on blood, kith, or kin
It is the luminous moon
the heated sun
the gathering of teary puddles
the shattered undone.
The siren’s wail of my mortality
blooming forth into all possibilities
For some a child is a promise of eternal life
a quenching relief from the death born strife
But I have found magic within my hands
which I’ve been commanded to touch on the lands
to forgo my fears of tomorrow’s gleaning
to step loudly into the room of vanity preening
that I, with the breath of truth on my lips,
must shatter the walls with the twitch of my hips
While singing hymns of thanksgiving, love, and peace
While weeping with gratitude, I crawl on my knees
The oceans of tears that matters to healing
have accepted my joy of life now appealing
For I have discovered my magic within
Ne’er shall I die, for the darkness can’t win.
The First Husband
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.
The pitch of cloudy moonless nights are harrowing
Despite the switch-back trail chosen to navigate
Maneuvering childish thoughts jagged and narrowing
You said, “Bring the child back home.”
The misty breathy wisdom cites a frightened wraith
With parental patient guidance blessed wisdom
Exhuming trust, from brittle bones, from a wild-haired waif
You said, “Return the child back home.”
With coward’s yellow pungent stench un-protecting
Winter’s breath of springing fallen truths disarming
The summer child sees comfort’s spirit connecting.
You whispered, “You’re safe. Come home.”
Where there are tears,
Where there is despair,
Where there is darkness,
offer your light.
Where there is injustice,
offer human rights.
Where there is loss,
offer a shoulder.
Where there is a spark
offer to smolder.
Where there is plenty,
offer to share.
Where there is anguish,
Where there is emotion,
offer your being.
Where there are shackles
offer the freeing.
Where there is chaos,
offer a peace.
Where there is frustration,
Clumps of dirt, dust, and debris rotted my brains
whenever I tried to speak to passers by
I’d hold my beggar’s cup earnestly pushing
for loose change to fall chiming into the depths
speaking foul breathed words of backwards intent
Clumps of zombie flesh fell from my body
repulsing potential friends, disgusting possible employers
I blinked my eyes to dream and you coalesced
You made strange sense of my chaos, spoke to me
with careful brush strokes through my tangled words
Ever so gently you tugged at my self-loathing,
conditioned my confidence,
curled my toes with affection,
showered me with the truth through your actions
as you loved my pieces back together.
With frightened squalling wails of labor,
forsaking all others
I was born into redemption with your hand embracing mine
the day I agreed with you that I am worthy of love
every light bulb in the house but not the light
every shade from the windows but not the curtains
every blanket from my beds but not the warmth
every canned good from my cupboards but not the bread
every animal from their house but not the pets
every gift he was ever given but he left empty handed
every hug and kiss sprinkled with praise but not the love
and I let him go because he asked with action not with word.
Am I my own imagination come to life or who others want to see?
Am I an earthquake that shakes the foundation of your beliefs?
Am I the whirlwind that’s met with cautious alacrity?
Am I so enigmatic I am hidden even from myself?
Am I a magician’s assistant that performs with infuriating stealth?
Who am I when there’s nobody around to witness me?
Am I just a wanderer piloting my ship on the popped blue collar sea?