It is stitched into my bones, this disease,
call it shame if you need a smaller word.
What it does to me is uglier than that name.
It festers in the soft dark of my soul,
rotting everything my hands reach for.
And still, I love it.
The way you love a scar you keep reopening.
The way you love a fire for the warmth,
even as it eats the house down around you.
I know it will kill me.
I know, and I stay.
So tell me,
how does anyone let go
of the thing that has learned
the exact shape of their hands?
my mother’s light blue jacket
it’s that little souvenir of a terrible year
cancer is mean, a bully, a curse
she had it in her lungs for a bit
Cancer got uglier, and spread about
He got into her brain, her bones, her everything
a terrible year, a terrible year
the last three months worse than all the others
I see my mother’s light blue jacket now
and remember cancer well, but cannot get rid of it
because it still has the fragrance of my mother
I can always take a whiff; it’s the only scent of her I have lef
Thanks, Dad.
Thanks for teaching me how to ride a bike.
Or not, because I learned on my own.
Thanks for teaching me to shave.
Or not, you left before a hair dared to show up on my chin.
Thanks for teaching me how to do math.
Or not, because my mind still slips on division.
Thanks for teaching me to have a firm handshake.
Or not, because a handshake isn't enough for a job anymore.
Thanks for teaching me how to jumpstart a car.
Or not, because Triple-A still came out.
Thanks for teaching me how to tie a tie.
Or not, because I still break down in the mirror.
Thanks for teaching me how to start a fire.
Or not, because the burns on my arm get uglier
Thanks for teaching me how to use a knife.
Or not, because these cuts get deeper.
Thanks for teaching me how to use a gun.
Because I finally left my sorrow behind.
Thanks for not being present.
Makes my departure easier…
my life laid lifeless in your hands,
you decided to be the one to bring me back.
to be the only one i held faith in.
to be the only one to deserve me.
i never asked to get attached to these scars.
it got uglier with every line you drew.
with every cut you made, i healed perfectly.
why would you give me
these beautifully flawed tattoos?
you never answer me.
this mirror is no longer my reflection,
i’m missing.
this body is no more than a reminder.
the eyes i looked at you with.
the tongue that dirtied your name.
the face that you longed to see.
what use am i now?
i can’t handle this alone,
this soul meant to hold two.
My body got cold with no trapped soul
Its limbs lying still on the kitchen floor
Under the window that was next fixed
Icy whips whip against my even colder skin
But I never felt as warm
As when I got to be an Angel
Corpse gets uglier with the days passing
Its smell travels through the town
No one calls me, no one rings the doorbell
As my body is now moldy
But I never felt as free
As when I got to be an Angel
The room gets taken over by crawling bugs and maggots
Their meal is my heart
But I never felt as good
As when my heart was consumed
To never be alone again, never feel myself soaked in cold sweat
All that's left of me are teeth and bones
My skin turned into mud of blood and meat
I am rotten
But I never felt as clean
As when I got to be an Angel
Hair Long to short and teeth once straight
BUT
now instead crooked
Food made fresh,
BUT
now instead eat nothing, that requires me to cook it
The body with an exercise routine, I enjoyed feeling strong
BUT
now instead the mirror sought unbearable, I look uglier and stupid
A match made in heaven we both seemed so well-suited
BUT
now instead I see the devil, who all along disguised as baby Cupid
a young girl struck by love, my future plans then lucid
BUT
now instead my only thoughts are......
I must have been deluded
"Dead women, they haunt the bars, the streets, my bed. Memories of broken bottles and cigarette burns.
You never escape their shadows; they cling like smoke to an old suit.
They’re quiet now, but the silence screams louder than any of their words ever could. Life is uglier."
No one knows my name
I’m known as “their older sister”
You feel such pity for me
Yet you don’t care to know my name
The “uglier” sister
The “odd” sister
The “other” sister
Yet you don’t care to know my name
I’m tired of being the other sister
I’m tired of not being acknowledged
I just want to be seen
I want you to know my name
They’re made to look identical,
hide all that is unique.
With scarfs and veils and clothes that mask,
their beautiful physique.
In laws of old religion,
no woman was born free.
Sometimes sold by fathers,
a financial commodity.
The more that females cry out,
the tighter the noose gets.
The more they try to break away,
the uglier the threats.
The males which hold the power,
fear they’ll be left alone.
Because they know that deep inside,
the women all have grown.
Grown from ancient customs
which keep them tethered to,
a lifetime lived in servitude,
each day told what to do.
To cook and clean like servants,
their worth to all the men.
Surrender themselves every day,
no matter how or when.
They want to have their freedom,
end old ways of the past.
Each one with their autonomy,
where their word is the last.
So they remove their headscarfs,
march in protest of their plight.
Their numbers keep on growing,
for it’s every woman’s fight.
We are not anti-Jewish
We're only 'anti-Israel,' you see
So, your Jewish Chanukah celebration is canceled
~ it implies we support the Israelis
She was Chinese and only eight years of age.
On the noisy school playground,I found her.
Just beaten by fists of anger, fury and rage.
By a fifth-grade, tall boy,in no way demure.
But that year, San Francisco decided to
integrate all its great schools.
I helped the girl rise from the cement ground.
When integration was born, harm and incivility!
Became the American federal de jour rule!
Sir Fists of Fury,should have been suspended.
That sweet little girl….he hurt and punched! I’m
But it went on constantly and having a soul,
My teaching career just had to be ended.
I thought of what work I could possibly do.
Filing papers for a company nearly me bored me to death
But I was in no way going back to a violent zoo.
And.as I-walked, thanked God for my soul and breath.
Life was harsh in those sad, solemn strange days.
But today’s world..”We are coming for your children?”:
Far more lost, in nightmarish, uglier immoral ways.
And as poets,why do we never pen of this then?
6/29/2023
Though thicker, deeper lost in
No wood is gloomier
Than who's imaginnings within
Shape a myth, shadowless.
Oft through life's walk have been that child.
And with fear, their breeder
In day's midst, just so for friends' lack
Felt crowd round troll's likeness.
The world is weary,
weary of the fear but
afraid for the future.
Political campaigns
ugly and growing uglier,
airwaves choked with
insults and outright lies.
Hate thrives and turns
friend against friend.
Covid lurks in wait
outside our doorstep,
invisible, threatening health
and possible death.
Masked people shy away
from one another in stores.
People isolated and lonely,
visitors often limited for seniors.
for many, one bleak day
passes blindly into another.
The only recourse
from television news
strangled by political infighting -
The Animal Planet,
The Great British Baking Show,
old movies, perhaps a Zoom meeting.
The world is weary, but
this, too, shall pass and
become part of our history,
and we will survive with the
hope of creating a better world.
Just hang in there.
I am the Grinch,
I'm not green with envy.
My heart is not two sizes to small,
Or made of coal,
With demons in my soul.
I am the grinch,
With hatred for an overrated holiday.
Based upon nothing,
But money and greed.
Family time doesn't come in to play,
It's like a board game of Monopoly,
A race to make it to the boardwalk.
And screw everyone else.
A holiday to compare who got the better Christmas gift.
And how much it cost.
I am the Grinch,
I am not green with full of envy,
My heart is not two sizes too small,
But four sizes too big.
I have a heart of gold,
And unlike the real Grinch,
I Would give you my shirt off my back if needed.
I am the Grinch,
Why you need a holiday to spend time with family
Makes no sense to me.
We spend enough money all year round for retail.
Just for them to get richer on a holiday,
Raises prices above prices.
And all the greed in the world gets more expensive,
And Uglier.
With two simple words,
Merry Christmas.
Happy Halidays.
I am the Grinch,
That didn't steal Christmas,
Just the Grinch,
Just hates the holidays,
and what they have become.
So, Miss Alanna, you aren't the only one inside,
and you thought I, was some uglier guy.
You should look around, there isn't much time.
I'm as ugly as they come, and I'll keep You alive.
Oh, Miss Mitsopolis,
you're the deadliest kind.
You conceal cold steel,
butterfly, on your thigh.
With a flick of the wrist,
You won't blink an eye.
Oh, Miss Mitsopolis,
You make grown Men Die!
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