Long Sasha Poems
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Sasha began to close
She felt her legs buckle
She was now on the ground
in a fetal position
Her breathing came faster
She could feel a heartbeat in her throat
Bare and exposed
She tried to retain
A tiny sliver of her former self
Fingers clawed at her.
They were all trying to take another piece.
Family and friends, for she was their rescuer.
When they needed anything, she was their go-to woman.
Sasha closed tighter, her skin began to bruise and welt.
They all wanted a piece of her; demanded it.
She had already given all she could, more than she should have.
There was nothing left.
No joy, no happiness, only sadness.
Her hair dipped over her sorrow, concealing her pain.
She wanted to be alone, demanded it.
Sasha Marie woke up early, getting her healing herbs ready for market.
She was bringing the masses the ones they liked the most.
St. John’s Wort, thymes, catnip, allspice, and eye of newt.
Eye of Newt made her smile for it was a hybrid she invented.
Magi, her familiar, curled around her leg, mewing, wanting a pet.
Of course, she accommodated him. He was a black and white love bug.
Symba, her dog, began to bark loudly. There was a truck going down the road.
Sasha Marie rolled her eye; one truck in two days and the dog went nuts!
She opened the door and Symba rushed out to bark his disapproval.
I could finish those cinnamon rolls and take them too, she suddenly thought.
She remembered what a hit they were with the last crowd.
The phone rang. Someone wanted a healing, and a healing.
She made them an appointment, then began a walk through the garden.
Her best friend Marda, was already there. “Cinnamon rolls?” Marda asked.
Marda did not like to bake, but she certainly loved to eat.
It was handy having a best friend next door. She was weeding Sasha’s garden.
Matter of fact, it was beautiful – what Sasha had thought of doing this morning
Marda had already completed.
“How long have you been here?”
Marda looked at the sky. Maybe a couple of hours.
They went into the house, ate warm cinnamon rolls and spoke of the fair.
We had better leave by five tomorrow. We want to get our tent set up in a good place.
Are we taking those signs we made? The ones from last time? Sure. Why not?
They grabbed up a pile of signs that said “To No One Do Harm”.
Most do not understand them, Sasha Marie said. I was going to leave them here.
“Their children get it,” Marda said. “And that’s who we are educating anyway, right?”
They both pondered the negativity of the Christian men who used to write faerie tales,
Scaring children, making witches sound evil, threatened by female power.
A disservice to Wiccans.
It’s coming can’t you feel it
Something, absolutely wrong
They’re preaching greed and hatred
In the lyrics to their song
The precipice we’re perched upon
Hums! like a ticking bomb
As they herald their New Order
Their Future Babylon
Iniquity in every song
They share the Devils creed
The Puppets spilling secrets
That their Masters want revealed
Biblical immorality
No longer lies concealed
They sign their souls to Satan
Playing out the cards He’s dealed
The Forever 27 Club
Laid open to them all
Each soul is worth the same to Him
The writing’s on the wall
Janis Joplin, Morrison
Winehouse and Cobain
Jimi Hendrix, Robert Johnson
Made a Faustian exchange
The Beatles, Sergeant Peppers
David Bowies ‘Quicksand’
The Great Beast, loyally lauded
Crowley’s led them by the hand
They herald each new master
They applaud the righteous wrong
The Crossroads call at Midnight
Gathering soldiers in their song
Bianca, Cookie, Shady
Sasha Fierce and Luke the Drifter
An exponential family
Ri Ri, Lola, Twisted Sister
As Above, then so Below
Both egos need their names
There’s no-one who they seem, it seems
Duality’s the Game
The Boss don’t like these dizzy heights
Come shake hands with the Devil
The Devil’s in the detail
Hell and Heaven, on one level
Cos Lucifer, He ain’t greedy
Though He likes to thwart Gods plans
Shylock seeks his pound of flesh
Satan, only 21 grams
The sacrificial lambs line up
Like Isaacs only child
A soulless congregation
Cos there’s No Church in the Wild
It’s coming can’t you feel it
Something, absolutely wrong
They’re preaching greed and hatred
In the lyrics to their song
The precipice we’re perched upon
Hums! like a ticking bomb
As they herald their New Order
Their Future Babylon
Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama, our first African American first lady has her own accomplishments which far exceed what she had dreamed of when she was a little girl in Chicago. She has been a lawyer, university administrator, writer, and advocate. She has won a grammy award, shorty award, and Nickelodean Kid’s Choice award. She is multi-talented, presidential enough to be elected president herself. She has shown grace, confidence and beauty in the face of every challenge. Her husband Barack and her children Malia and Sasha are proud of her and her accomplishments. “I always tell young girls to surround yourself with goodness,” she is quoted. “I learned early on how to get haters out of my life.”
She is the vision of assertive womanhood.
michelle obama
role model to young women
grace personified
I’m a master in the performance of freedom. In Paris, this is just part of the social graces, but I maintained it as an act, to deceive potential college friends and then my current boyfriend into thinking I’m more fun than my truth.
The truth eventually outs though.
Shall we go poetic?
Last night we (my bf and I) went to an Opium rave
On Saturday nights we try to be brave
we ordered our drinks and as as they were raised
the noise hit us like a tsunami wave
I keep ear-plugs in my purse, so we were saved
but it was mood-wise and musically depraved
we flinched, like a middle-aged couple, and flaked
I should have sampled the bands - It was a mistake.
Alas, it didn’t turn out the fun date-nite we craved
Sundays we recharge and we needed the break.
Ok, I’m over it (rhyming).
Opium’s a music label with a universe of artists like Playboi Carti and Sexisdeath. What drew me in was the fashion trend, a “Opium aesthetic,” you might say, which meant fans weren’t just listening to, they were dressing for it, developing a style, which pulled from goth, punk and metal.
The sound evolved from those influences too, but there’s way more distortion, screech and hypnotic repetition. As bad as it was - and it was bad - it certainly kept the crowd moving in a film-it-with-your-phone mosh-pit way.
They were between DJs when we arrived and we’d ordered drinks - then the music hit and OMG, we gulped our martinis like shooters - leaving early and irritated. Does this mean we’re getting old?
Anyway, don’t worry about us, we’ll erase that experience when we see ‘Tyler, The Creator’ at the ‘Rock en Seine’ festival, Wednesday night. The man makes a crowd connection.
Ooo, want a fashion tip?: Sasha Sorrell jeans are the new Hedi Dior jeans.
.
.
A song for this:
See You Again (feat. Kali Uchis) by Tyler, The Creator
If you want to simulate our rave experience, try this link: and turn it up (I dare ya):
youtu.be/Kx6OGDFS5Sg?list=RDKx6OGDFS5Sg
yea tis history - that end gin shelled a mesh by mit Romney wailin
such below figurative belt mortar attack subterfuge and constant railin
per accusations hurled at barack Obama presidential campaign
lobbed like scud missile grenades from invisible hand no longer m palin
in comparison and hence moot point for republicans to gain
so this joe of a voter re-fused 2 bide time 2 prevent candidate from failin
app laud clinched 2nd term deserved and occupy white house seat a gain
intent i wanna talia 2 acknowledge salient tactics to boost usa now ailin
sasha bravado blasting and gunning futile fusillades
which questionable oppositional stealth indiscriminately fired pell mell
to discredit supreme commander in chief an exemplary persona in the main
such desperate toothless and nail biting tactics
replete with political retaliatory slanderous stockpile bombardment
but rather, he opts to build fracking rainbow coal bridges 2 somewhere
over the rainbow toward future with his omnipotent time tested girders
of righteousness and gravitas quite simple and plain
casting confidence that the democrats rank as the robust strongest train
eclipsing her livid burst of 15 minutes fame that briefly wax than wane!
There was a Tilley Willy in her back
It was a seasoned one with pneumonia hack.
Sasha had been trying to shake it since lunch
It had grown up with the McMillian bunch.
It had tentacles that wrapped around her twice.
Tilley Willy thought living inside her was truly nice.
Other humans and dogs have ticks, lice and fleas.
She kept begging it to leave using manners and please.
The Tilley Wiley was determined to stay forever
Then she met a comedienne quite nice and clever
So she encouraged Sasha to stand really close
And that Tilley Wiley jumped from host to host.
Sasha’s pneumonia promptly and abruptly went away
The comedienne had a ridiculous cold the very next day.
SHE IS LADY ZOYA
From rich bucket bills of grandeur bliss
Dawns wobbling chills from cruel treachery
Harsh is the murmur of the night, my Lady
Has Aidos spang slain as disgrace ink reign?
Swarm of bees threats and afire the days
Seems... to live life, one must be on break away
Gowns and golds gone like a storm
Tears a rain clouding the seeds of reform
Never-say-die attitude the tarring rock
Ah! The Lady Zoya got this trait in blocks
Shut down on countless turbulent thuds
Still, she arise like a Monarch from the mud
Royal blood dance viscous to her veins
But to burlesque shows, she swayed in vain
For her children: Nicholas and Sasha.
Her picturesque-like the late Princess Diana.
Huge fire almost killed her children
She changed. Later became, a fashion designer
Simon Hirsch saw a diamond from a spread of roughs
He married and dressed her in lovelier stuffs
The tambourine music of war took her husband life
Penthos again bathe her ever wounded thrive
Yet, love abounds never did she succumb
She strive to strum melodies from the crumbs
________________________________________________
**Zoya Konstantinovna Ossupov is a Russian countess,
a young cousin to Czar Nicholas II during the Russian revolution and World War I..
Terms:
Aidos: shame, can range from a sense of respect
Penthos: grief, suffering
©
9:38pm; November 11, 2014
Testa
Undone work
On a corner
Passing daylight
Timing in my afterlight
Caught between no canvas Pietro
Illustrations disappearance
Two see no other rain in sight
We passed true as our ghost lept
Fide et Amore
By faith in love
Fidelity as anul
Being Borrowed
For Film
By Another Woman
When We Come Aboard
A Military waited
In grasses tan, too low
Asnt in the future
Her return, ran from more
And in our time
All stood wide
Armed in rejection
Of a betters letters, above alls door
Oh stormy night
Dani Woodward,
Can we write tonight?
The nights editor
In The Times
Curtains of light kid,
Fall on my fold
Before you turn it in
Under the evacuation
She appears
It's easy cloth I fold for you lady
He's edited headlines besides it once
She's missed page before
Also why your wise.
Copyright © kevin mathenia | Year Posted 2025
Good Scene Sasha
May came and flowers of all colors and shapes declared their earthly glory;
their perfumed wafts mixed with the spring morning crisp breeze
entered my nostrils, but their strong aroma made me sneeze...
while cherry and apple blossoms smelled like the fair skin of young Mary!
Towards noon, Fields of Sasha Daisies waved under the wind's warm breath as a gift,
and with that beautiful image in mind, I sought the perfect flowers for a lovesick girl;
ah, they were very tempting, so I picked them with a gardener's precise craft!
Did I forget to ask her the real reason that made her bluer than a lonely bluebell?
I often spoke to her, but her unhappy smile hid a mystery I couldn't solve:
had Mary lost love or was forbidden to have one? But why cling to fears?
I had hoped that giving her my flowers would have made her believe in love...
someone who cared and was willing to listen sparing her useless tears!
Returning home, I heard two Marines telling Mary, " We're sorry, Brian fell to the foe! "
And seeing me holding Sasha Daisies, she ran and embraced me to express her woe!