Photo Credit: Paulo Borges
The wind howls
dirt eddies creating a haze,filling my eyes with grit
dead leaves circling in tiny tornadoes
plastic bags
a scourge on nature, plastered to fences
making otherworldly ghosts to dance in trees
I seek shelter from the keening, but solace never comes
for it is March in Kansas
and there is no peace to be found
not even in my own mind
the book lies open in your lap
set aside
as I bend over you
to rub my nose, my lips
against the stubble on your cheek
needing to feel you physically
and express my love for all that you are
how many times each day
do I think in my head
“god I love this man”
which is as it should be
all of you is what anchors me
and heals me from all that has come before
I am not the butterfly
but the chrysalis
after the butterfly has emerged
empty
void of feelings
the beauty contained within has flown away
leaving nothing but a shell
which dances in the breezes of life
Ash Wednesday
was merely you stamping out your cigarette
and me standing there watching
as the last of the smoke escaped your lips
unable to give you up
for any sort of ridiculous religious conviction
atheist or otherwise
my sins paled in comparison to yours
and left me feeling pious and righteous
never worried about whose left hand I would be sitting at
when all was said and done
the food and the fucking both taste so much better
when someone tells you you can’t have them
so pour your communion wine into the dip of my shoulder
my belly button
and drink of life’s blood
drown out the trumpet sounds drifting through the windows
and toss aside all the beads
our Mardi Gras will never end
undercover spy
private eye
double agent
mole
smooth criminal
schooled in espionage and capable of assuming various personalities
covert ops
surveillance
lurking
slinking
wiretapping
staking it out
But the jig is up, James Bond
you’ve been
found out
discovered
exposed
unveiled
recognized
No more pussy galore for you
the water is closing in
but i keep flailing my arms
i try to will my legs to move
try to remind myself
that there are people who need me
i must fight to stay afloat
swim
i tell myself
swim
you pathetic, weak bitch
you haven’t survived this long
to go down without a fight
but
the shore is nowhere in sight
how can i save myself
if i can’t see the land
and
i wish you were here
to pull me out of the waves
but
the reality is
you can’t save me
you’re not my life preserver
or my personal flotation device
and
your own boat
threatens to capsize in stormy seas
*Originally posted on The Fat Bottom Bard
The song of you
is stuck in my head
It resonates like a tuning fork
I hum another tune
but it is drowned out by your melody
I want you to take your one man band elsewhere
Get it off my street corner
so I can allow another man’s song
to replace your lyric
which was filled with fables and broken promises
Photo Credit: felixgi.deviantart.com
sing me to sleep
your arms wrapped around me
kiss my cheek
my brow
as passionately as you kiss my lips
show me that hands are made for kindness
and words are meant to elevate
and maybe, just maybe
my sharp edges will be smoothed
I will lay down my weapons
and allow you a glimpse inside
before you turn tail and run
apathy has settled in my heart
and in my bones
like a rare form of cancer
it eats at every cell of my being
it burrows into my marrow
consuming all I believed to be good
about you
about me
about the world
indifference is a sheath for my feelings
numbing any twinges of caring
but never halting the progression of my sickness
it will eat me up from the inside and leave nothing
but a shell
it was you
and you
and you
and even you
who gave me this disease
who left me with these symptoms
indicative of a greater malady
which left untreated
can bring about
the downfall of society
I can’t take it. . .I can’t take one more day of it. . .people and their righteousness. . .believing their way is the only way and their ideals should be everyone elses. . . and morals where did the morals go. . .you said you’re a Christian. . .that’s what you claim to be. . . that’s what all those fucking memes you post say. . . and you lecture Christianity and “God’s love” only to turn around and judge and judge and judge. . . your fear is showing. . .your dirty, disgusting fear. . . turned outside in you feel the need to ejaculate your fear on everyone. . . you think you know so much. . . your anger drives you to a place you might not recognize. . .you think keeping them all at arm’s length will save you. . .how foolish of you to think the enemy doesn’t walk among us already. . .just send them there or there or anywhere but here. . .I’ll send money or clothes or anything but just don’t make me face my fears. . .but you don’t send money and you don’t send clothes. . .and you continue to live in your little house of fear while expecting the sons and daughters and mothers and fathers to keep your doorstep safe. . . to cast themselves upon your purported enemy. . .never once considering the fact they might not withstand what is dished out. . .to shine a light so you can try to block out the dirty filthy truth. . .which is that Americans aren’t all so nice and kind. . .and look closely because how many of you would turn a blind eye to murder and rape and the destruction of cultures. . . just because it might keep the wolf of fear at bay. . .look in the mirror and try to see the person you really are. . . try to see the person you might be if wars of religious righteousness were being fought on this red white and blue soil of ours. . .what would you do to protect the child you pushed from inside of you. . .where would you run when all doors close in your face. . . because you my dear are a filthy American and you are guilty by association
*The recent attacks on Paris and the plight of the Syrian refugees weighs heavy on my mind. My Facebook feed has been bombarded with it, and people have sickened me with their rhetoric. I spoke to a friend about it this morning, and walked away from the conversation more emotional and confused than I was before. There are so many aspects of these issues, and conversations regarding them could go on forever. I felt the need to write this and release some of the thoughts and feelings in me. It’s not meant to be anti-American, or pro-Obama, or to enrage or incite. It’s just meant to help me deal with the fact I must learn to live in a world, surrounded by people who can’t place themselves in another’s shoes, because they’re too angry and frightened to allow it.
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