William fell as his mother wished, No more hugs, from brother Bill, No more love, under auburn hair. Will she find him in drug addiction? She hopes, She will, Upper lip quivers, then under it. Being alone, being different, Feelings like triumph, glory, Joy, will turn to sadness, Succumb to wickedness, Never to be reclaimed. Just like her boy is never coming home again.
Nary, another winter, Empty, heavy sweater, Brother, mother, Very insistent, Very defensive. Terminals are to monitors, Persons are to windows, Like words are from doctors, Termites, are to monsters.
Gold of copper, silver, others, Authors of doctrine, products. Sallow, is the frown from God, Where is all the yellow, gone? Random, is capitalist outcome, Like a drain or fountain floods, Fate, embracing to the bottom, Latin script, says "Your Honor". Jasmine flowers nod, goodbye, Abandon your cause, destroy. From a barren mountaintop, The wind, calm, mother... God demands your boy.
Yellow, and a bit of blue, Both, I, and you. Purple, Lilac, I just care not for it. Just like you never cared for me, Or any of the things that I thought. Fetch mother, friends, for comfort. Tell your co workers, or consort. I, no longer for dramatic concert, Agriculture of the hallway, march, July, august or months of autumn, Yellow, burst into skies of orange. See If I toss and turn about it. Like, he drives a porche, owns gold, Fire and opal in his coat pockets. Like, the eyes of horses see god, They see not much beyond carrots, Understand little of soap, clothes. Like, maybe you cared for poems, Little for poets, less even for prose.
Birth mother, Are you done in search of justice? From hunger the feeling lingers on, I want to be created equal, in three parts: My heart, my dreams, my thoughts. To stomach decisions these fingers long: How much must one muster? The war is over, the performance over, The opponent is dead and gone. He hears the fear in his voice, Drinks beer, balks, talk circles, Inside he looks awkwardly, Leers like a child at adults. 'Blood eater, what of your cuts? Is your search for freedom done? What is your word for love? Of people, of reason, Like earth, sun, One deserves better treatment, But worries when wonders gone.' Colonel, a third of your country, wrong. Fanciful fawns, thoughts prancing, Warnings: Songs bandied to a swan. Wanting nothing, wanton, famished, Like night always says to the dawn: Our prospects have long vanished. It's more self talk, silence in response, Dancing alone, along to the bombs that drop.
here i lie (not yet asleep) in my childhood bedroom (my soul to keep) under my childhood quilt (made by my grandmother) holding my childhood cat (could there by any other?) and listening to the cicadas cry over (mourn) the loss of my sister (come morn) when she moves away (just to our college town) into her tiny, adulthood dorm (someday to wear a cap and gown) with her adulthood newfound friends(i thought it was just the four of us) and her adulthood future portends (why couldn't it have always been the four of us?) and listening to her professors drone on (just like the cicada) as she compiles reports, and essays, in jargon (raw data) and- and- and i wonder, will she miss me too?
Estoppel, Mothers teach their daughters: Fear god like a cannon, It's about what comes after, Thanks can turn like a cavern. Characters in novels, Monuments in their honor, Buildings to hurl themselves off of, In life, it appears less often, Withering is more common. Peer down the fandom: Book like a standard, Fans buy a good lie. Banks burn like a tavern, Like a blanket in shambles By the fire that looks fine. Estoppel: The dragon sighs, Wishes a sweet prince, good night, Gone is he with the fire.
the first time i heard the word was in the third grade as teacher taught us, piously, of the price He paid as He felt the spike rip though tearing his palms asunder, in two He pleaded, Father, why me? why must the sacrifice i be? the first time i understood the word was in the sixth grade as i started the decline into womanhood as I lay, fetal, on the bathroom floor and the blood soaked my legs and the pain a dull roar I prayed, a desperate plea, Mother, why me? why must a woman I be?
Right person, wrong time, Mother was right, Life is not a slice pie, Sweetness inside, Yet better divided. Imagination lame, Deception, I change, Mirror, terrified gaze. Do dreams for tomorrow, Define today? I wish to wish my dreams away, Live a simple teal or gray.
I miss that girl who wore the moon on a chain, The one who found happiness in solitude and rain, Who wasn’t smothered by the endless need-to-dos, But instead made simple moments her muse. I miss the girl with the honest, unforced smile, The one who could always stay for awhile, Who took endless photos of sunsets and trees, And spent time, just being, under canopies of leaves. I miss the girl always seeking out the new, The one whose blue days were ephemeral and few, Who spent her Sundays, childlike, taking trips to playgrounds, Instead of as an adult, pushing expensive mops around. I miss the girl who wore pink bandanas and braids, Whose undercurrent in life wasn’t always “afraid”, Who wasted away hours in make-believe lands, And felt no guilt with book or controller in hand. And I miss car rides with no destination, Enjoying the lilting song of a clock for pure relaxation, Not feeling enslaved by my own procrastinations, Making last minute plans, happy deviations, I miss yesterdays that happened years ago And I miss the me that I used to know
i see sunday mornings beyond my time. does sunday still exist? i see my history yawning out before me. can corpses exist on both edges? i see my mother. can grief follow a child out of the womb? time, death, and life roll the die to see which takes their turn first. west and north argue over the sun while east and south clutch each other, wailing. god's suicide passes through us concentric circles of chaos look, there is too much blood in the streets!
my mother's trauma trailed behind me out of the womb, feet first. her grief sticks to new skin like glitter. death would be more glamorous than this. how do i tell the woman who gave me life that i don’t want it no more?
She writes fallacies of nobody, Highlights for her hair color, Callously she laughs with glee, Ire beauty and young bravery. Screaming in doorways sobriety, I like to think she knows me not. Picking flowers from her yard, Policy alike her start, mother, Discovering what to be, rather, Honesty like her heart, lover, It beats nobody clever. Until. Forgive my desires: two stepping. Your teacup leaking, I laugh still. Sieve steeping, a living actress, And to live needing? is this banter? Definition in short order, leaving. For give my empires to Stephen, An idea more Corey than Cancer. A ballet dancer, but a thick boy, Holes among left awood with joy, Man ideal for lawyers and cantors, For one who teaches is forgotten, Cotton tarnished in an oily oil. Royalty royal and parched to often, His voice softens, off his head, For I too seek enjoyment, spread.
He finds for her nothing, Saving judgement, touching, Loathing bother abundant, Absurd, absence, junction. Usher standing with mother, Prose, another woman lovely, A job done poorly.
Like a dull axe she finds problems, Forever chopping away at them, honest, Heart longing for promise disregarded; Dressed for the ward, fully pardoned; Walking son further follows suit, Continuing without education, Tongue misconstruing in search; Fuhrer didactic, in foolish, Shooting skies of oration, Bullets true to the earth; Flippant remarks of life, Piousness to the dirt, Burying words in nonsense, Burning iron and desertion; Shakespeare by any other name, Apt it was before tall tales, Lies furious among the vegetation, Born, lived and smothered there; Meat filler, then life billiard, Son born a killer, Writing of nonsense, Mentally ill, political figure, Opinion maudlin.
Whatever I did I did it myelf Fucked God and the Devil Miserable Accosting young rebels When I was a kid I sat on a shelf Hiding in darkness 'til I piss'd myself Not fearful of Argus A game where amid We sought and dispelled My mother found these Piss covered shelves No brother beside me She helped when I hid She'd hear if I yelled Instead she heard beveled Breakfast cereal Make music of rainfall Taking blame for the good Forsaking myself Fuck with God and the Devil I play songs as well Drawing crosses in trebles All over the grid I marvel at how When I look at these crosses They offer some help
It's you I want I just mean Do it Want me I'll scream Drown them More feelings Of wanting Longing For something Aloof Trot of the hoof Fall from the floor Land on the proof Smile at the whore Missing her tooth Trying to score Good times with the roof Ease to cool her Down and pass out Songs of abusers Speaking of peace Echo through darkness Then she falls asleep For something Standoffish I just mean It you whose the problem Not me I just solve 'em I can't be wrong 'Cuz I'm peaceful And honest And a really chill guy If you don't mind me talking At lengths just to show I'm not racist I'm mocking Their race 'Cuz it's funny Not Angry Just Loving That Pain From Above Automatic Dark static Creatures of habit Throwing outrage around Myself I won't have it Outraged at myself Myself never planning To be holed in a cell Living under you bandits You won't have it yourselves Yourselves being outraged At all of yourselves For all of your work Education and health Yell at your brothers Strangers Mothers Escaping from hell By throwing dirt At the world Insurmountable selves By the billions All with a version of self I'm doing it now Laying a seed To expand And develop I mean I just want to scream These guys I girl dog about I'm mad 'Cuz I'm me
Child Support Fun! I'm making payments aligned with divine arrangements that make clear the destiny of what's well know, established and fair. This morning's depth of fresh air has me positive with cheer, without fear of who is here in love or just there, as a shell of mere existence. I once sat underneath the Bodhi tree, the place I've always longed to be, for long centuries. Way before Amiri strummed along while rhyming; like mother and father, now son doing some shining! He even dances to the beat of his own inner drum a well mixed conundrum, only confusing to none. I gladly make these payments in fair arrangement until my arrears are done. Child Support Fun!! Dangerous Soul Life