Lavender clung to Grammy like a familiar blessing,
a soft aura rising from her walk-in closet~
that kingdom of faux furs and pearlized buttons
where dresses hung like quiet stories waiting to be told.
I sat beside her at her dressing table,
watching the slow choreography of her bronze-brown hair
as she brushed it into its practiced sweep,
each stroke a reminder of the elegance she carried
long after her hand-model days had faded from magazines.
She tore two sheets of paper poudre,
handing one to me as if passing down a secret rite.
“Gently,” she said, and I followed her movements,
feeling the powder lift whatever childhood dust remained
from my ten-year-old cheeks, leaving them soft, matte, new.
Foundation, rouge, a whisper of plum on her lips~
then her porcelain hands folded mine inside them,
their warmth steady, their touch feather light.
“You’re a lady now,” she said; in that moment, I believed her~
believed I was becoming her lady-in-waiting,
one beautiful enough to be part of her gracious royalty.
Across my room is my little trusty dog
Furs around my bed while he sleeps like a log
I see he made my shoe his own chewy toy;
Lines here and there like an ill mannered boy.
Laundry stacked on one side with socks sticking out,
Their eyes stare from the heap, haughty and proud.
Though not often I meet this hallowed mess,
Like caught in a furry induced stress-tide
I pet my furry one and bring him a treat
For he's the only one I will gladly repeat
63 YEARS ON THIS EARTH MARKING A BEAUTIFUL EPIPHANY OF RENEWED WISDOM I WASN'T BORN BY THE RIVER IN A LITTLE TENT HOWEVER I WAS BORN AT HOME FREEZING COLD ARTIC BLAST 63 YEARS AGO IN A SMALL APARTMENT NEXT DOOR TO THE CHICAGO PUBLIC LIBRARY ON HOMAN I AM TRULY BLESSED AS I CELEBRATED MY BIRTHDAY QUIETLY CALMLY HUMBLY MEEK WITH THE PURE KNOWLEDGE THAT SO MANY LOVED ONES DIDN'T SEE 30 40 50 60 KNOWING WHEN I BURSTS THROUGH THE FIRES INTO THE WORLD MARTIN WAS WRITING HIS I HAVE A DREAM SPEECH HOW MY TINY SOUL SURVIVED SUCH TYRANNIES 1963 BORN ON SAM COOKS BIRTHDAY 63 YEARS LATER A SPIRITUAL EPIPHANY MY PLATINUM DIAMOND BIRTHDAY A RENEWAL OF WISDOM A SPIRITUAL AWAKENING IF YOU WILL THE MILESTONES THROUGHOUT MY JOURNEY MY PILGRAMAGE HERE ON THIS EARTH THROUGH TRIUMPHS TEARS ILLNESS FORGIVENESS LAUGHTER AND SO MUCH JOY MY GIFT TO MYSELF THIS YEAR IS SHEER PEACE HAPPY BIRTHDAY COCOA THANKS BE TO GOD I AM TRULY BLESSED
1963 AND ME
Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?
Alligators with stiff necks and jaws
Boars roaming and munching without trimmed claws
Cats that nap all the time
Dogs that snap overtime
Elephants of trumpet, splash and bow
Foxes gekker, gnash and chow
Goats that rap, blitz and bleat
Hares hop with furs so neat
Iguana with spikes and protective tail
Jaguars of the cat world that rarely wail
Kiang of the wild and meadows
Loris of the night without pillows
Mongoose of bravery and viper's nemesis
Nandu of strong femoris
Olms of the cave and false mimesis
Pikas of the puff world
Quokka of the smiley world
Red fox of historical Ethiopia
Storks that bring luck in utopia
Tapirs of animated and mythical world
Uakari of the New World
Vicuna of long eyelashes
Wallaby, big foot of dashes
Xeme of the gully world
Yarri of the lost world
Zebras that play chess and checkers
Animals of the nutty world
Carnivals of naughtiness
Festivals of display and vivaciousness
Intestinal relief of the blessed world
(Prosebite)
Precious kittens move my heart -
I’ve known this since small.
Whether still or in crazed dart,
they enthrall my all.
Silk furs, whiskers, purrs -
all make resistance depart
while cat love occurs.
Echoes of summons ring on.
With them a sonorous clamour for painted lines.
The rim of night stretches and holds fast to
a colossal nocturne hung on furs-and-clouds walls,
and a concentric image of life rotates on
edges of weak silver.
Long-dead poets campaign openly for verses –
among them Wordsworth and Eliot –
each putting a swagger to his arrogant gait of lines,
sauntering towards a nest of whited papers.
Initiation signs, nebulous, line the torso of night,
and are etched deeply into the black bosom
of distant whiffs of ceremonies, like faint
stars of a tumultuous galaxy.
You've missed a bit, there on your chin.
Thin reeds of river grass and fish—
cheeks-deep in roe, mud-covered twin,
you've missed a bit.
Let's bumble on to spawning's pitch
eat salmon-seasoned trout—with quince,
furs drenched in entrails glazey drip...
I long forgave your glutton sin,
big Grizz, I swear there is no hitch,
just time enough to feast with friends
you've missed a bit.
Issue, O Iridescence!
Luminesce on the sly.
Pore over, phosphorescence?
Oh yes, and here is why!
Students of the nebula!
Empire has its cost!
Best to keep it regular?
That or deal of Faust!
Sauced, are ye, wild warriors?
Well, at times it's best.
Lost and sinking? Sail azures!
Tours and boors need rest.
Zest, O mighty zephyr!
Boreal pole, hear all!
Have you seen the lost heifer?
My! Io, give a call...
Fall, when winter, taciturn;
Sends the snow and ice;
Sullen, silent, spares to spurn;
Miracled device;
What will avail travelers?
High road, one with us?
Gods of death, synthetic furs?
Bile and blunderbuss!
Muss on heads of wearied folk?
That is not good news.
O for eggs with scrambled yolk!
Doom, Death, disabuse...
Channeled communications?
Be sure to precise read.
Otherwise re-educations!
Draw bead, O my greed!
Weed atop the giant's mound?
Zero Lost and Found?
O ye serpents, hissing sound?
Next below the ground...
Warning? Dark fire, warming?
O locusts on the air:
Sudden is thy swarming?
Life, ladies, is not fair...
holding on to illusions
trying to make it through
fevered dreams reflect fantasies
scattered threads permeate reality
this state of delusion
a symptom of the confusion
calling from the void
the angels shone with silver
their furs stuffed in a sack
lying upon cloudtops
but ignorant of their rags
seeking to reach the sky
he thought he could fly
but those born soaring
never needed to try
holding on to illusions
trying to make it through
fevered dreams reflect fantasies
scattered threads permeate reality
in silent despair
dragged down to hell
broken by breathless prayer
seeking salvation
the holy creation
unity of man
was there ever a plan?
The ship of dreams
Opulent surroundings
Fancy bed linens
Luxurious dinner plates and tablecloths
Gleaming virginal utensils
Dazzling crystal chandeliers
Polished walnut woodwork
Gold gilded fireplaces
Wardrobes ready for furs and dresses
An experienced captain
Eager staff
Bustling activity
Musicians, artists, businessmen aboard
High ranking officials, wealthy industrialists, celebrities
Cruising flawlessly in clear blue sea
A haven and heaven during the day
Easy sleeping and dreaming in the evening
J.P. Morgan was disappointed to have to cancel at the last minute
Four glorious days of sailing
Around Midnight April 15th, 1912 the Titanic struck an iceberg
The chunk of devilry slashed a three-hundred-foot gash in the hull
Haphazard evacuation ensued
First lifeboat could have held sixty-five people
It left with twenty-eight
The dream ship broke in half after filling halfway up with water
In two hours fifteen hundred people died
The majority of them froze to death in the North Atlantic
Jill is getting tired of tumbling down that hill,
so, she leaves the farm for the big city;
and in New York every view gives Jill a thrill,
till she is told, you are model pretty !
Jill works to become a runway fashion model,
but is told that her walk needs improving;
one day walking at class she felt like a noodle,
and came tumbling down instead of moving !
Only to be picked up by a really cute guy,
they fell in love within a New York blink;
she sighed looking into his blue eyes like the sky,
they got married, and Jill now wears furs pink !
WILD CAT, RIP IT APART ONCE AGAIN
Been a while I tasted it raw
Taste of a living flesh full of blood
My claws are itchy
Craving to rip off the furs and pounce on the flesh
My fangs and rusty
Need be oiled by the drippings
Mouth drooling the hunger is as large as the flesh
I just wanna rip the flesh again
Like a snow wolf after the winter
Too long a life without a feed
Many nights of hunger and thirst
Long curvy fiery claws
Guiding the wooly paws
The wild cat's whiskers are overgrown
Yet without bloodstains in a while
Seasons of cold and hot
Nights of starving and days of thirst
Big cats of the wild
Rip it out and eat from the middle
Howl louder big wild cat
Lure your mate out of the woods
Feed on the familiar tasty flesh
Your favourite of all delicacy
Lick the fluid off your whiskers
Flex the powers in your right limbs
Stretch out the veins and let them pop
Chase and make a catch
Pant in awe of your satisfaction
A well deserved meal after a while
It is time to rip it apart again
Innocent
Lighting travels through my core, like a diving hawk to prey.
Unwittingly, I let a breathy moan escape.
To the glory of the heavens, my eyes roll up then close.
The better to feel and isolate every touch bestowed.
Loved
Cherished
Liberated
Righteous
Found in innocent yearning, a blessed gift of pleasure from God,
Only man made shame can twist this right into something wrong.
No clothing but the skin I'm in, and not needful til I'm told,
This beautiful expression of love, this fire I can hold,
Is full of dirt and shameful works and turns the fire cold.
Shivering in my guilt, I frantically, hopefully, look,
for a way to hide and warm, as in Icy shame I shook.
The fig leaf doesn't cover me as completely as I'd want,
Desperately, I spill warm blood and in fresh furs I flaunt.
Only that life flow of crimson can cover any sin,
Now, knowing shame, and feeling guilt begins.
Deformed
Perverted
Twisted
Manipulated
From the innocence of love and sweet gift of pleasure,
To dark urges made ugly, no thought for forever.
I'm an estuary of ivy-furs,
sleeping in monsoonal moonglades of love~
as the savannah sun of sunset blurs,
slowly unveiling stars with golden glove.
When russet- fairies twirl in a bronze lake,
singing with springs of watermelon wand,
an untouched summer unfurls behind ache,
lacing twilights with lush wishes, so fond.
Garden of grapefruit, doesn't forbid faith,
exotic eyes paint life with a rare art,
where hilly hues drape seashores ~ daisy-bathe,
my muse weaves magic on the 'bay of heart'.
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