Desolate clown's
traveling train
tours famed cities
onto quaint towns.
He mimicks glee
for his ousted
heart's sutures
are dismissive
frowns.
Balloon twisting's
what he knows--
cause joggeling act
makes kids mope;
And sparking globe-nose
bombards
the Top's bleachers
with plumes
of blinding smoke.
His onesie sports
ink-stains for color;
And oily-face
with white base
sweating turns
cream-soupy butter;
Shoved and ridiculed
by crowds-even peers,
cause he studders.
His Mass Bay clown
soles have holes--
with grimy socks,
torn by nails and corns.
Grey's his story--
when a caboose's
the only corner
where he
can call home.
He'll tumbling fall
to gain their laughs-
cringing weeps
in silence--
from prying eyes.
The show must go on--
cause he's a star;
Like his forefathers
before him-since then past on.
The scarlet art of the sapphire sky of my halcyon heart
sparkled with sequined glow of the lone moon leaning low.
I tried tempted to touch your topaz sheen tinted unseen,
but you didn’t stay, slowly sauntered away out of my view
from my silky sky I shaped for you with pure joy for sure.
From the dark domain of dismantled dainty rainbow arc
strong storm surged with snapped shards of slashing scorn,
shattered my sublime sky while stowing in dispersed debris pile.
I couldn’t foresee how to dredge the drowned dreams free
from deep despair before destined day to depart came my way.
I shoved the splinters of my shattered soul on the sly,
turned them into a single white rose, residing in my heart close.
When on the run you returned to my garden under sensual sun
its fragrance fine floated with the pure passion of mine divine.
When in your sweet smile the curl of its pristine petals I saw un-furl
I knew the onset spark of the new beginning it’d memorably mark.
The day he found the sausage
is a day I’ll not forget
Another piece of childhood
that is permanently set
The sausage had been purchased
while he was on a trip
Shoved way back, forgotten
til he got back from the ship
The shouting was ear-shattering
I didn’t understand
My Father screamed while holding-up
the sausage in his hand
He ranted it was sinful
Muslim law forbid they eat
Any type of pig or swine
or any pork type meat
He flung it out the window
and it made it past the yard
Landing on the synagogue
where pork was also barred
Then from the kitchen window
I watched the crows appear
And feast upon the sausage sweet
so far and yet, so near
I knew it wasn’t Kosher
could evil lightning spark
Should we tell the Rabbi
as the sky was getting dark
If they found the sausage
they would never know the why
Of how religious rage took hold
and made the sausage fly
Have you ever cried so much, you created your own lake,
been pushed and shoved around, you’ve had all that you can take.
The disrespect, and the haughty spirits, you daily receive,
have you opened the eyes, in your heart, and in God tried to believe.
In times of our anger, who then, is in control,
as the darkness of the world, is eating at our soul.
The heart aches, bringing with it, all it’s pain,
the pressures of this world, comes pouring down like rain.
As you pray to God, your words just hit the ground,
as we wonder in our hearts, if salvation we truly found.
As the doubts start seeping in, the storms begin to brew,
we’re liable to cry an ocean, before we are through.
What a mess, the mind and heart can truly be,
as the ways of this world, destroy’s our soul you see.
The darkness, anger, wrath, revenge and strife,
will eventually tear down, and destroy your life.
When we get sick and tired of being sick and tired you see,
we will begin to resist this madness, and learn to live, as we were meant to be.
Fight me! Styx wants to say
It comes out as a ‘mew’
They stroke his fur and pet his head
Tickle, fuss and coo
Too soft! He thinks, Where are the claws?
The hard knocks and the teeth?
His friends, the other wampus cats
At least brawl like they have beef
But his clowder mates are holed up too
Hunkering from the hail
What he wouldn’t give right now
To bite another’s tail!
Adrenaline makes his muscles twitch
Pent up frustration writhes
Oh to be outdoors again
Running with his tribe!
Fight me! Styx wants to roar
All six legs set to scrap
He doesn’t want an invitation
To sit purring on a lap
Fight me! Styx insists
And receives a little shove
Yes! Physical contact!
He interprets it as love
Fight me! Fight me! He’s shoved again
He nips, inviting more
He’s rewarded with rough and tumble
And is sent sprawling on the floor
When it comes to good play fighting
The humans don’t quite know how
It’s not the same as wampus wrestling
But it’ll do, for now
Straining, yearning for a glimpse
of the magnificent personage
when shoved forward by the crowd’s energy
he found himself face-to-face
with the object of the crowd’s adoration
What else could the ten-year-old lad do
but kiss Mr. Kennedy on the cheek
~ for which he earned a standing ovation
__________________________________________
On the campaign trail, c. October, 1960.
I don't think u can fix it
I'm ripped apart by the stains I spilled
I tried to clean it up
shoved and smeared
into a mess of something I wished we could've had
I want brand new
not left outside
to sink into the clump of regret
not left outside, letting the whole world know it's damaged
that we let it fall apart
Im sitting here waiting for someone to fix it
an object left to wait on the side of the world
a piece of myself exposed to everyone
Can u even attempt to see who I was before all I became?
What if you can't fix me?
Where will I end up if I let them take me away
If I continue to let them use me like they can't tell im not the same
until I no longer serve my purpose and am replaced
I don't think u can fix me
throw me back on my side of this place we used to love
and continue to pretend im fine
I do not understand why I cannot take up space.
I understand I'm expected to be eloquent, always filled with grace.
Perfectly positioned hair and makeup to cover up my face.
But if anything—anything—is out of place...
I'm just something to be shoved back into your crawlspace.
I do not understand why I cannot take up space...
I do not understand why I cannot take up room.
Only if you let me grow, if you let me bloom.
Something you wouldn't just push aside with a broom.
Let a woman feel, let a woman fume.
I do not understand why I cannot take up room...
Written by Lillyana Little
I wish
I could blame
The salt water waves and humidity
High school daydreams
Shoved in his backpack
On the flight to you
Thoughts bouncing off clouds-
How delightful
How impressionable your empathy is
It gets easily lightheaded
After clutching face kind of kisses
And calling you “baby”
His shoes
Neatly in the corner by yours
Quickly turn to
His empty wallet
Collecting sun damage on your counter
With penny worth promises of change
Opening up a suitcase
Of emotional wounds
From demons with the face of old loves
Littering
Your house
But mostly your mind
Until common sense
Got too claustrophobic
Under the weight of him
He concealed
The erraticism
Into an obligation on your finger
A little gleaming distraction
From the disheveled rubble
He left back home
Trying to keep
The dust of me
Under your rug
For I was
Years old intimate boredom
Soothed in tv static
You deserve better
Than his words dripping in honey
That just end up left out to harden
Did you notice
That our flirtatious hellos
Fell upon the sun’s prying ears?
How she shoved
The storm clouds aside
For a better view?
The gelid March rain
On the asphalt
Was the perfect stage
To swallow your colors-
A kaleidoscope
Of moss, earth and gold
Spilling
Into my lungs
From the whirlpool of your eyes
A down pour
Worth
Drowning for
Until it wasn’t
Truculent waves
In your mood
Sent me looking for shelter
Wholesome flattery
Crashed into me
But the taste was awful
Immediate
Rejection
From my insides
I couldn’t meet your gaze
Until the nausea
Cleared my head
I’d be lying if I said
I remembered
The color of your eyes
I’m tired of this dance.
The pretending.
The quiet nods that make it seem like everything is fine.
You drink.
You lie.
And I clean up after you, again.
What hurts more is that I’ve learned how to live with it.
You’ll go dry for a few days, maybe a week.
You’ll hold me like you remember who I am.
You’ll say you’re sorry with soft hands and glassy eyes.
For a moment, I get the version of you I miss.
But he never stays.
The other you returns.
Sharp.
Careless.
Everything becomes my fault.
The dishes pile up.
The beer cans get shoved under seats and behind toolboxes.
I ask how much you had tonight.
You pause.
Like you’re testing me.
Measuring what you can get away with.
You lie.
And I let myself believe you.
Because it’s easier than the truth.
And just like that,
we start over.
the long-lost plush toy with ill intent
somehow had been shoved into the attic’s vent
his face was scarred, his teeth were creepy
I could not relax that night, though I was sleepy
I kept thinking he was going to get an axe
then sneak upstairs and kill me and Max
Max is my cousin who has no sixth sense at all
He slept soundly, while I listened for sounds in the hall
My lover is Tyler Durden
Only cared for me when I handed him wealth
And once he wiped my tears away
But several times he faded away
Only when I needed him the most
So I shoved his suitcase out of my doorway
And threw him onto the cold streets
Because I came to the realization
Men with two sides aren't worth marrying
The four seasons are each wonderful on their own
but when they are shoved into one day it can be overblown
Sun, wind, rain, and snow
all dramatic and putting on a show
They shoved Lady Justice to the ground.
He tried to help her up.
He warned them not to touch her.
And in his last breath,
he asked her if she was okay.
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
They said he brandished a gun,
but everyone could see it was a phone.
They said he was a violent terrorist.
officers attempted to disarm him.
Why won’t they release that video?
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
His extrajudicial execution?
The way they pinned him to the ground?
The way they pumped ten bullets
into his mortal form even after he lay lifeless?
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
An American intensive care nurse,
working for the Dept of Veterans Affairs,
living a life devoted to the care of others.
or a friendly neighbor always helping
those in need?
How should we remember him?
I will remember how he gave his life to help
Lady Justice to her feet.
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