Long Ward off Poems
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girl memories now gulped from too much air
I could not save you from feeling water
may a daughter's ashes be in sea's throb
the Diet Coke days, I knew who you loved
moments for awhile are in ocean fizz
I thought in your arms I would never drown
though not you turned your face from me within
strewn glass shingled there before me, and cut
kissie, kissie, my bare little pinkies
we sifted through sand for a chance above
the sandcastle we made sea fell over
disappointment slows to figure out waves
unknowing was I how you ward off storms
absolved eyes were blue enough together
an asylum's toll reached out, the buoy
I grew my two more feet after you left
salt tears only come when madness is past
your footprints making mine, between we share
may a daughter's ashes be in sea's throb
I cannot save you from feeling water
girl memories now gulped from too much air
I have gained nothing from white supremacy
with singular power, sans The Almighty
My faithful friend with sheets of white
my pal, poised, unpen itself to make things right
How squeaky clean each new beginning?
that borrows from the dead, and those still living
I arrived blank naked and undisguised
my soul redeemed in light of sunrise.
I have gained nothing from white supremacy
its dubious power sans The Almighty,
Where would I be without coloration on the scene?
life would be deserted as though obscene
I'd fall through the cracks to a singular world
where boys play god to control every girl.
I have gained nothing from white supremacy
with singular power sans The Almighty
I've read of Sodom and Gomorrah's crude ways
that glorified false light, as before the flood days
Now, there's liberation theology for you and me
the God of our understanding is of mercy
What race of men thrives without grace?
where would we be without speck of faith?
I have gained nothing, from white supremacy
what dubious power sans The Almighty -
A garden with grounds as fertile as love
who charted each course? Only One from above
I think of evergreen, and majestic pines;
and my roots unending; yet not one of a kind, because
The humanity of man was molded by divinity
and hand washes hand, to ward off calamity.
The termite culture's rich and vast,
more so, sometimes, than humankind,
with martyrs and mujahideen,
and projects ponderous yet precise,
and back-up plans, a hundredfold.
How do they do it?
Society is based on caste,
with tasks and territory assigned
by social rank. Some watch, some wean,
some whittle, weave, ward off, entice,
while food for all is fairly doled.
How do they do it?
Their architecture's unsurpassed,
with geodesic shapes, designed
with opulence almost obscene,
and altruists. Self-sacrifice
is common. And they mine for gold!
How do they do it?
Hardly least and never last,
over her subjects (all of them blind)
there reigns a massive, fertile queen,
releasing pheromones (how nice!)
She lives to forty-five years old!
How do they do it?
Muddy Water's Gramma gave us licorice
I walked the old Kenwood neighborhood with my twin little brother and sister in tow,
'hold there hands and look both ways before you cross the street'
No use trying to talk my way out, knew it was the only way mom would let me go.
October's new moon, peaked in and out of passing clouds,
leaving the night gloomy in stygian darkness.
Faces painted, carrying our paper bags, dressed in raggedy linen pillow case shrouds.
Low sad sound of a guitar's slow lick, pitch in open E, played a few doors down,
accompanied by a soulful song sung:
'Well, my mother told my father,
just before hmmm, I was born,
"I got a boy child's comin,
He's gonna be, he's gonna be a rollin stone,
Sure 'nough, he's a rollin stone..'
I knocked on the door, our shrilled chorus trio called out Trick or Treater's round,
Clutching a Bible in her hands 'to ward off evil spirits'.
Gramma Della turned on the porch-light, framed in screened doorway,
emitting a joyous whooping sort of laugh, invited the three of us in.
The bright-eyed man sat at the kitchen table, looking up from his guitar emblazoned in Formica reflected glory.
In the corner, a pretty girl, dressed as Cinderella, sat cross-legged on the floor..
with what looked like a million dollars worth of candy.
Muddy, who had ceased his song at our knock, nodded our way.
With curious smile that was both happy and sad, in smooth, measured voice said
'Oh don't you look a fright'.
Della handed out licorice that year, the same as all the years we once knew.
But what us kids remember best, and last, the man who sung & played the Catfish Blues.
What I didn't learn 'til later, a picture placed in Muddy's view of the living room.
Little Walter, with his harmonica cupped in hands,
who died just a year earlier, a day after Valentine's moon.
Inspired by McKinley Morganfield and his Grandmother Della Jones
You get a heck of a sound from the church. Can't you hear it in my voice? -Muddy Waters
MOONSHINE ELIXIR
My rose perfume scents the hospital room
where he returns for moonshine elixir.
My eyes, wide and afraid at the pale monster
who glows with pinkish cheeks as he drinks.
I scream, from inside my brain, as my mouth
softly moans, “no...no…”
My friend strung a cross - pressed it to my heart,
but he snickered, for i’m far too close to the dark.
He forced a nurse to remove it — she wore it
to ward off the evil, that terrified my bedside.
He told her, as he licked his lips, “Keep it on,
or i’ll send you next, to the funeral parlor.”
She pulls out a hammer and a stake, “That
would be a grave mistake, monster! Watch
your back. I know where you live. Do you
have time to move before the moon is through?”
He seethes, taking it out on me, raping me
of the rest of my lifeblood. He screams
at the top of his unholy breath…
The nurse’s hair caught in its vortex, the stench
of death she can’t escape. He vanishes
and fearfully he is able to find a new residence.
She must always watch her back, be careful
that no one unhinges the clasp at the back of her neck
...not even her husband.
Each night she hears a horrible howl, the wind blows the windows
and doors, a pale reminder of the evil that stirs...
12/21/2018
See my poem Victorian Virtue
There she stands in the wisps of the billowing snow, trying so hard to ward off the inevitable, blistering chill of the cold
She is undressed in all of her sorrow and her shame, frozen like a shard of glass waiting to thaw so that she can cascade down the pane
The icicles how they have encumbered into her porcelain skin, she can’t even shed a tear they are a wanted fantasy, a release that has went amiss
Her beautiful locks of hair they lie frozen in icicle strands, masking her beauty that has paralyzed her where she stands
She can’t move, she can’t open her luscious lips to speak, her eyes do all of the talking and the secrets those piercing eyes do keep
The lies, the betrayal, all of the pain that is held within her frozen heart, she is just anticipating the end when she will finally endure the shard
The piece that will bring this frozen misery to an end, so that she can sleep in peace and dream of what once was but will never be again.
October had three days of ice
with howling winds of cold
Winterize your home tight
for winter is coming bold
Get ready for soups and stews
and every type of piping hot brews
To warm the soul and ward off ills
blankets and long johns to fight the chills
Stock the pantry and fill the freezer
the furnace glow such a pleaser
Be ready to get snowed in
we are ready for winter to begin
November arrives with skies of blue
temperatures warm enough to melt igloos
A warm week in November became two
hardly a sniffle and not a sign of flu
The month went into week three
temps of sixty and over eighty
Glorious days with cool nights
my low energy bills a beautiful sight
But December is coming with a northern wind
time to winterize all over again
Goodbye to November roses and mowing the lawn
time for those things for a season to be gone
Dazzled by the lighting
of his fancy gaze his
lips blew peace.
i could feel the depth of
his cherry creek eyes with
warm embrace of visible absence.
a review of every word said and
how secured it made me feel.
i know there's no honesty
in a bearded man but I wanna
lay my nest in his palms.
My head feels too clouded to voice the intensity of our match.
look me blue from the
soul and let's cherish
the memories I withhold.
I want to see you fall in love with me too,
I'm too good to be true, I hear I'm the 9th wonder.
this night was made and you were in it.
those words I brewed were a hint to draw closer, I usually say them to ward off people with no yearn for my cute drizzles.
you seemed like a prince with a love for challenge, so i kissed you hoping you'll wake me up from my charade of a sleep.
Death Comes to All
We’re all going to die.
No way around it.
Statistics usually lie.
Not so with death.
No vaccines will save us.
Masks can’t ward off the grim reaper.
So why make a fuss.
You can’t hide, he will find you.
War, bacteria, viruses, accidents.
Not to mention murder and suicide.
The reaper knows his calculus.
His bony hand will find you.
The river Styx is in our future.
Make sure you have the fee.
Must pay Charon that old moocher.
We all must cross that dark water.
Diets, exercise, medications.
In the end all is useless.
There can be no abrogation.
Death comes to us all.
October 6 Scripture Meditations Based on Luke 18-19
Key Verse – Luke 18:7 And shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto him, though he bear long with them?
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR AVENGING ME
Thank You for avenging me, Your own elect by Your grace
In my cry for Your help to protect me with Your truth-brace
Against falsehood that knocks me down from spiritual race…
You alone can sustain me around Your compassionate embrace.
Thank You for avenging me, Your saved child
In my dependence on Your holiness from being abominably wild
Against tendency to become worldly beguiled…
You alone can guard me to avoid the proudly defiled.
Thank You for avenging me, Your transformed creation
In my plea for Your aid toward faithful conversion
Against backsliding-corruption…
You alone can rescue me from transgressions’ destruction.
Thank You for avenging me, Your privileged servant
In my prayer for Your guidance of divine grant
Against defiance that displeases You, my Master-Commandant…
You alone can direct me toward what You perfectly want.
Thank You for avenging me, Your entrusted steward
In my request for Your training of caring regard
Against stubbornness I should ward off though it’s hard…
You alone can mold for faithfulness’ reward.
Thank You for avenging me, Your enlightened student
In my need to learn from Your, indeed heavenly sent
Against failure due to foolishness-ignorance whereto I’m bent…
You alone can teach me with Your truth of no falsity-dent.
Thank You for avenging me, Your earnest believer
In my supplication for Your increase to my faith as humble receiver
Against doubts and disobedience wrought by evil deceiver…
You alone can instruct me well since You are the supreme law Giver.
October 6, 2022