As a child,
Like a grown up, you would put on my make-up,
In my heels you'd stumble trying to stand up.
As a child,
Knowingly, you played at 'mothers' with your friends
Each one using grown up language in pretends.
As a child,
Many times you would not do as you were told,
Capricious, stubborn as any eight-year-old.
As a child,
Already knowing that you wanted to be
A loving mother, exactly, just like me.
As a child,
Peas in a pod, we went through it together
Daintily dancing through all kinds of weather.
Time has passed, and even though you're grown up now
Admit, you can't hide sometimes stumbling somehow
like a child.
where the branches go
return to the voices
that bitter inner verse
dressed in birds
I know now those roots
I know now where lovers die
Who knows where the branches go
to song to heart to some cruel universe
where no life turns, no beast pretends
a cage of mothers – a cry of death
Branches sway – Branches night
swing off into a color of sticks or sound
she awaits my bird my tiny wing
from our ancestry of none our null dream
to lie awake to die apart
oh soundless fury pray for me
I've done none, I've none
but the wind to carry me under
carry me away
I have known courage
And it has not wept
And it has not slept
It dwindles in the night
When it is all dark
And pretends to shield when day breaks
I have known courage
And it has scars
Its crimson drops
Ageing soul and peace seeking
I have know courage
It has sought death
And resurrected on hope
I have known courage
It has left me beaten
Bandaged me in healing
I have known courage
It almost took my soul
And when I thought I didn't have anything left
It let the light trickle in
I have known courage
Every journey
carries
its own arrival
folded inside
what it first
let go.
A stone kept
the other pocket.
The skip
noticed neither.
A bridge
pretends
to be its arch.
The span,
hung in chains,
remembers.
The ladder
offers
one rung
to tomorrow,
one
to yesterday.
Both feet
know.
The escape hatch
grows lighter
without opening.
The room
learns
its counterweight.
The kite
believes
the string
is holding it.
The string
believes
the wind.
Neither
touches the sky.
The grandfather clock
unwinds
its weight
until
the floor
begins to listen.
One day
the other pocket
forgot
its stone.
The hand
didn't.
Water speaks under the planks.
Cold mouth counting my breaths.
I will not feed the water.
The river wears broken mirrors.
It calls my name in pieces.
I will not feed the water.
The bridge pretends to be mercy.
Bolts cry out then swallow sound.
Cold mouth counting my breaths.
You wait across the dark.
Your voice a thin lantern in skull.
I will not feed the water.
Cables hum like teeth in wind.
Each sway drafts endings I can't revise.
Cold mouth counting my breaths.
I taught myself fire for you.
Now current learns my face.
I will not feed the water.
Love begs; the current applauds.
Boards bow praying not to snap.
Cold mouth counting my breaths.
Something separates us final.
Wood, water, and my terror.
I will not feed the water.
Paradise.
What is paradise?
The picture-perfect place?
Perfect house, perfect car, perfect partner
Is that what you picture when you picture paradise?
Paradise
Everlasting sunlight and spring flowers
Dresses, hats, and sunglasses
On a sunny day with a long beach
Cold ocean and sand castles
But waves stop crashing
Sand castles get destroyed
and flowers wilt
Perfection
Yet even the sun sets in paradise
And the boat has to leave
Illusion of perfection and forever
Forever doesn’t always work
Perfection wasn’t always perfect
and that’s okay
cause a different forever will
always find its way to you
just not your intended perfection
Paradise.
Paradise is a car that you can drive
in a color you enjoy
Paradise is a house that’s a home
Walls painted your favorite color
Paradise is trying not to laugh while
everyone pretends they’re working
Paradise is hurting someone
but learning from it
Paradise is inside jokes and
happy moments with your partner
Maybe your dream was simpler
and more ordinary than you thought,
Paradise
Missy Glow said she has giant cat swing; I did not expect this
It must have cost her a fortune, I say to my curious sis
We both go back together to take another peek at this swing
I try to get a price, but she pretends she does not know a thing
It came from my fellow, a sweetheart, an angel, my new beau
I want one for myself, so I try to get his number from Missy Glow
He won’t take your call, he does not know you, she says expertly
I am so irritated I can barely swallow my crumpets and tea
We shuffle the days
like cards across the table,
hoping to draw Spring.
But the deck grows ever thinner
with every hand we choose to play.
Entropy walks on,
spilling sugar, cooling tea,
loosening tight knots.
dealing cards from beneath the pack
while Time pretends not to notice.
There's much kerfuffle
when stars bend the road between
one heartbeat and the next.
Cards arrive out of sequence
Distance becomes duration
Time is stretched and distended,
paths are bent and distorted
and you arrive before you left.
Memory itself reshuffles
dealing tomorrow before yesterday.
A mother's laugh, a child's distressed cry—
both hiding in the same hand
waiting for the shuffle
to reveal a trump card between them.
We trace every moment
on clock faces and calendars,
yet we cannot tell
which breath came first
or which came last.
The instant we watch too closely,
the dealer stops dealing,
skips a card,
moves on—
then quietly slips
an extra card into our pile
while we're looking
the other way.
For, the kerfuffle of entropy's shuffling
keeps ruffling the deck
we mistake for
of our Time.
The prototype -vs- The polished versions
Imaginary wool that doesn't match, separated
from the flock.
Just reflect what they are.
They speak in implications and secret codes,
Do they resent you for making everything
crystal clear?
The Black Sheep learned the truth has no
inside. Black Sheep is your honesty called
"Aggression" their silence is called "Peace"?
Being called "Difficult" for naming what
everyone pretends to agree to ignore.
They refuse to acknowledge the prayer, the
Black Sheep were born first but cursed last.
The uncut Gem too sharp for the polished
settings where the rest of the clan lives.
The mirror hung backwards, it showed the
truth, so they face it toward the wall.
"The Black Sheep "does not" apologize for
its wool.
As a child,
Like a grown up, you’d put on my make-up,
In my heels you’d stumble trying to stand up.
As a child,
Knowingly, you played at ‘mothers’ with your friends
Each using grown up language in pretends.
As a child,
At times you would not do as you were told,
Capricious and stubborn as any eight-year-old.
As a child,
Hastily, already knowing that you wanted to be
Identically, a loving mother just like me.
As a child,
Like peas in a pod, we went through all of that together
Daintily dancing through all kinds of weather.
Even though you’re grown up now you cannot hide
That sometimes you stumble like a child.
Harley’s favorite life began at Arkham
She reinvented herself
no longer a mere psychiatrist
now Joker’s lovesick groupie
she flashed from tame to wild
from mild to violent
a murderer now but still likeable
she pretends to be naïve; but she retains kindness
craving affirmation, she latches onto people she likes
selfish? Yes
Unstable? sure
An unstoppable force
Harley Quinn, with her faux innocence
highly suggestive, easily manipulated
an anti-hero villain you grow to love
I have seen
his face
in New York City.
I have heard
his voice
in Europe.
He speaks
of love.
Yet practices
division.
He speaks
of human rights.
Yet strips others
of their humanity.
He speaks
of peace.
Yet profits
from war.
He sends armies.
He sends weapons.
And calls it
freedom.
He forces
democracy
upon others.
Yet rules
through fear,
power,
and obedience.
He pretends
to be a thinker.
Yet borrows
the wisdom
of others
and calls it
his own.
He speaks
of spirituality.
Yet worships
power.
Morning and night.
He preaches
virtue.
Yet walks
with hypocrisy.
His words
shine like gold.
But his deeds
cast shadows.
Then I walked
through the streets
of America.
And there
I met him again.
Smiling.
Confident
Speaking
with a forked tongue.
Promising hope.
Selling illusion.
Some say,
he will change.
But history
whispers otherwise.
For the devil
has always worn
many faces.
And the greatest trick
is not deception.
It is convincing
the world
that deception
is truth.
The devil
is a liar.
And sometimes
he walks
among us
wearing the mask
of virtue.
The soft snowy body,the cute puffy face
The bulky swift creature,is never behind in race
The fully stretched being,often pretends to sleep
But,is always vigilant, having an eye to keep
Yor are dearest to me,no doubt...you are an Ace!!
We cling to traditions
And habits and friends
And gatherings where
No one lately attends.
It’s hard to let go
But how long one pretends
Things are just like they were –
Well, that kind of depends.
If whatever we cling to
In some way extends
To those with whom we share it,
That surely transcends
Any reason to lose it.
Still, time’s flow portends
Letting go is expected,
Since everything ends.
Per chance I sensed stinking pungent smell
when in land phone, hubby started to talk.
I picked up extension, stunned to inhale :
Since long he was cheating me ! Sudden shock !
When in land phone, hubby started to talk -
So surprised to know his clean betrayal !
Since long he was cheating me ! Sudden shock !
He pretends to be honest and loyal.
So surprised to know his clean betrayal .
Got devastated , yet I am to rise,
He pretends to be honest and loyal
but he has sent me to Fool’s Paradise.
Got devastated, yet I was to rise .
I must give him emotional divorce
but he has sent me to Fool’s Paradise,
Acted prompt as my righteousness forced.
I must give him emotional divorce
Listening his cheating, felt pain terribleF
Acted prompt as my righteousness forced.
To have relations, it was impossible.
Listening his cheating felt pain terrible
I picked up extension, stunned to inhale !
To have relations, it was impossible.
Per chance I sensed stinking pungent smell.
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