Long Pincushion Poems

Can blackwater lilies 
sing forth sonnets 
of daylight and 
unsung those 
cacophonous notes 
of omen, which 
rhymed with 
sombre elixir 
of spruce rivulets and 
veiled your crimson 
touch of life, 
in eons of unforgivable 
death?...

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The Obeah Woman

Heavy musty air reeks with the Obeah Woman’s pungent perfume, 
sweat, burnt incense, bitter roots, and swirling black smoke,
dim light from a waning moon streams into the shadowy room;
and mirrors crack as restless...

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The Grand Ball.
.
The amorous ambient moon
Hung full and high
Perched within the Twinkling
Dark velveteen pincushion sky
The welcoming warmth of a pleasant
Summers embrace
Ambles on at a steady pace
.
Orange bright light
Seeps through large arched windows
From the stately house...

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"Treasure Box"

The etymologist considered "themselves" singular;

like a butterfly collector they pulled the pincushion 
out from the treasure box and proceeded to capture words
pinning them to every wall, they felt a certain kind release,
voodoo prayers ran...

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The pain that hits the mind 
Gets more annoying 
Accompanied by physical 
Every moment gets weighty 
Each breath hard to take 
Yet something still wants to breathe
Is it the hope or dream that pulsates?
Go on...

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Industrious buzz of solo bee search jackpots
Unashamedly trial diving in each lurid shell
Stickier with every trumpet he giddily accosts
Finds further stupor in fluted sweet compel

Ruffled taffeta petals burn, vibrant five
Three wiggle flame fingered fringe
Other two...

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At seventy-plus, the top of my noggin is a barren landscape
that once grew a messy crop of auburn hair.
And yet, some scattered strands of grey
still, sprout here and there above a fussy hedge
edging a closely...

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Not remembering you in joy 
how had this come to be?
No memories of you content,
no happiness to see.

No happiness for your whole life
though plenty filled your plate.
Bards filled your mind at early age
with beauty on...

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Bruising my vein
Can’t stay in my lane
Don’t even feel any pain
Acting like my arms are a pincushion 
A dirty needle about to push in
Need that rush
Want the voices to hush
Never coming down
Life in the background
Up...

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For decades you’ve used our bodies as your pincushion 
Poking, prodding, cutting, and killing. 
Forcing us to be your experimental subjects 
Scraping, shocking, drugging, and drilling.

Locking us up in meager dwellings 
Filthy, restrictive, desolate, and...

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I Call My Ten-Year Old

I call my ten-year old
Hidden and secluded
Alive in death’s grasp
Unseen yet hovering
Unconscious, subterranean
Felt but not heard
Needles prick chin’s pincushion
Screams echo through
Heart’s tormented chambers
Images flash
Blood red, avatar blue
Not on film’s cellophane
But in...

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Shivering with cold the patient reposed on the lightly padded table
Trying not to move for acupuncture needles were all over now-
in her arms, her feet, and her tummy
Ouch! She said as they were pushed in.
OUCH!...

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Under The Same Moon and stars.

Sometimes
I look up to the opalescent milky moon
Set among a vast  fascinating
Star filled pincushion soft velvet night
Deep in wonder awe
And delight

And I ponder
Is there a girl 
Out there in...

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