Fire is a jealous woman I say
I watch her angry, mean dragon way
Started with ten boxes, three of them small
Enraged, she is now spiking eight feet tall
Towering inferno, an orange black beast
These flames are hungry, the boxes their feast
One small light, and she took off like a tracker
Mesmerized, sits my cat, Mr. C.T. Paddywhacker
Neighbor called. Should she send the fire department?
I would like to push her into a tiny glove compartment
Fire is urging me to have feelings of anger and revenge.
A wild maniacal woman, and my best friend.
Thoughts speed racing
through my head.
Engine exhaust caught
in my throat.
Hands gripping the
steering wheel firmly.
Screeching of the tires
in my ears.
Random papers from
the glove compartment
scattered about the floor.
My world is skidding.
I'm almost out of gas.
Windshield wipers scraping
without rubber.
Transmission
slipping.
Telephone poles
like a toothpick
fence whizzing by.
Flashing lights
through the windshield.
When will it stop!
When will it stop!
How about now?
I’ve been driving around all night.
Setting fires in people’s front lawns.
Tiny notes clumsily scrawled with an old ink
pen I found in my glove compartment.
The wind will likely blow most of them away.
They’ll never be read.
But maybe.
Maybe someone will feel the warmth
of my arson.
Maybe when you check your mail.
You’ll find my torn out fire.
And know that someone.
Even though they never saw you-
Wants to make sure you stop.
Just for a moment.
Feel the morning Sun’s rise.
And appreciate the magic
of spreading a flame
like the one boiling so far above us all.
And how beautiful it can be
that we’re here, in this moment.
No matter how far I’ve driven away;
We’re feeling it. Together.
-James Kelley
My car was broken into on the other night.
When I saw the damage it really looked a sight.
My driver window shattered and glass laying everywhere.
The nerve of some people who really does not care.
My book bag was missing with my bible
thrown underneath the car.
My cd’s were all missing and the
Glove compartment left ajar.
The owner’s manual missing now
what am I supposed to do.
My portfolio is missing to and I am feeling blue.
It’s hard to see the good in this when I am angry as I can be.
I must tell the truth because it is bothering me.
So keep me in your prayers as I look for a safer place to live.
I know within my heart I must also forgive.
within' this present life ,
my self has been blanketed
by many selves , of past lives
yesterday is my today
until i can peel away
those onion layers of self
to find the true spark
of my true self .
like my bedroom closet
glove compartment
junk drawer in the kitchen
the past lives confronted in my mind
there is no disposal in the sink
no refuse container behind a door
no junk yard dog to help me release
for this is what i am
it's become the knowing and accepting
not the throwing and rejecting
of my self , where i find ,
the self now smiling brightly , saying ,
welcome home , it's nice to have you back....
home is where the heart is........
you are
happy.
like a cupcake in frilled paper.
skirts and pants.
c-_-s
fat and serviceable.
blonde dye job behind bathroom doors.
mama let the boys run trains on you.
fell down the stairs.
emergency rooms all too familiar.
everything is your fault.
stop whining. youve done this before.
d-_-s.
it doesnt have to be your world.
too often it is.
balding.
whisky in the glove compartment.
lost temper. lost self.
say sorry
to your
sister
wife
mistress
mother.
sex, gender.
the lines aren't well defined.
you are
sad.
alive.
corrupted.
an *******.