winter’s wilding

Out there echoes the brokeness of my situation.
It crashes the house oblivious to the shattering person inside.
The trees how they yield for mercy, begging to be spared.
Helpless are we to save them.
As he was to salvage me.
Agitated currents force unrest below the stones.
Invisible fists lay waste to my sweet plastic pots for spring planting.
The nascent air–bitter instigator of material tears–shoves and pushes into massive tantrums.

Not here.
Thank God, as I can’t take anymore breaking.
Inside, my squatting flesh reverberates with leftover aches.
Old blunders once a spiral of mad air.
Winter’s wilding beyond the anchor of a little brown desk.
Where his feet once rested on my knees.

swirl skating

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enter the vampire

I have conspired with a literary den-of-thieves to make you desire Them
To entwine your soul in Their stronghold of rampant lust and brute strength
Inescapable wide-eyed innocence will burn away the layers of mistrust
One decadent love bite to draw out your pulsing demons–
those that made your flesh crawl and quiver, long before They arrived
By high mindedness of the amber moon chained by gravity–
I call to sisters across ocean and earth
Fly beyond otherworldly barriers–
keep your diaphanous forms from heaving bound werewolves
I summon, for both your sake and mine
You see, they were born of necessity and likened to mankind’s crucible–
monsters, beasts, leviathans, introverts, extroverts, banshees
Welcome Their rounded limbs to engorge your body with Godlike fear
Wretch you will, over and again until there is nothing to the insides
but your blood
As Her beautiful teeth impale your flesh, you float among the stars
You collapse, the agony of life fades into a dull memory
The tide eventually finds you and we float into the universe
Aren’t they worth dying for…
4-vamps-good

Friday-fornicate or post

they say Fridays are good for fornicating but not for posting on Social Media
SM aside
I cannot care
the words pressing against my brain are going to burst my fucking capillaries
if I don’t shoot them out my itchy trigger fingers I’m doomed
torment is attempting to snake up my spine though I adore sidling reptiles
ever since I held that gorgeous velvet albino anaconda in fourth grade
now snakes are endangered too

if it blindsides me in a gallant rush of crimson blood, I’m ready for doomed
no overwhelming fear here
when you have kids you imagine leaping in front of the gun
they live
you don’t
I’m okay with this outcome, this is life
calm collective of a natural or unnatural end
the problem
too many yanking the ripcord at both ends
I’ve know for quite some time about dying
when you live with an elderly person, it makes the idea of un-being easier
my heart has taken on a personality all its own
a tragic character in some romantic play
maybe a comedy
she fades to black, scene four
I’m not depressed
not at all
rather realistic and ready
are we climate warming, are we going Armageddon-style
shit, I guess it’s going to be hot either way
why can’t it be water
I so love swimming
there is nothing like claiming peace underwater

I vote for clean water if still available
don’t want to drown in dirty icecap overflow

Crowns:pastel

it’s me, isn’t it

you have changed
so different from what I remember
but it’s me, isn’t it
the one who has changed
I’m a practicing fear-less now
so damn tired of being afraid
don’t want to hurt
don’t want to worry
but there is no way of wearing fierce
without pushing ahead forcefully
and you
I’m trying not to leave behind
our toes were in the sandbox together
the wind, she’s blowing all our castles away
there is natural sparkle in your eyes
while my own eyes fight to shine
I was there so long ago
but you can only see me through the blinding brights of eighteen
oh daughter, eighteen really sucks

Caroline Hands Crossed

Caroline Hands Crossed

illuminated with dark thoughts

this morning like so many other mornings
waiting for the sun to rise up and grant us
another opportunity to make it right
anything or anyone we may have wronged
or perhaps
more in the drama of later moonlight
the subtle possibility
we might make something of ourselves
while we are gifted here to earth
gravity holding us
balancing our bodies
we can’t do it alone
we are
each like a small sparkle
brighter than starlight
if you believe in such frivolous gaiety

I for one do not
you see
I am illuminated with dark thoughts
I am a lying pessimist
yearning for the truth of optimism
in a world peppered with road rage salt
silly in fact am I
that I would compose such a lifeless line
seasoned with black and white culinary fare
thinking how clever
how wise
three of them
one of me
guided by northern light
yea I can keep going with this crap
like I said
I am illuminated with dark thoughts
brightened only by the singular prospect
of you
in you

I am a most excellent liar
for I am not a lying pessimist
in truth
I am an eternal optimist
I am a gut-wrenching lame ass
I do believe in humanity
I do believe that behind words
cast like fishermen nets
people dwell
behind all the world’s false twinkling
the light of some truth bleeds out
through infinitesimal skin scrapes
the largest wounds

why do I believe myself an optimist
my one technological treasure
in the 1980’s when VCRs were introduced
many adults fancied themselves harbingers of theatrical doom
“there go the movie houses”
“there die our cinematic experiences”
a lame ass heart quietly rallied
the same lame ass heart always praying for white Christmases
to this day
“my local theatre won’t go out of business people need people”
“people need people”
“we want to enjoy experiences together”
“hear laughter”
“communally sob – not sad alone”
“clap”
“eat popcorn and slurp giants”
“we want to suck face in the back row”
“hold hands in the middle”
“wait for his arm to wrap my shoulder”

I am a most excellent liar
fooling my own heart into believing
if I can do this
it will bleed out
others will sense my fake joy
they might smile
it will start
this morning like so many other mornings
waiting for the sun to rise up and grant us
another opportunity to make it right
there is a sneaking warmth
creeping like crackling fire
and Christmas snow

Harem Eyes

Harem Eyes

 

listen to earth’s language

perhaps if we all spoke in simple language
rather than tongues
if we gazed with eyes
rather than expectations
what if we sang together with voices clear
frenzied rants quietly melting
if we opened ourselves to listening
blocking programmed retorts
this season
imposes upon us
the choice of reflection
the challenge of change
in ourselves
we can create magic
genuine magic
a mystical presence of benevolence
spirited on by a collective desire
to wrap our world in peace
the simplest of gifts
difficult to embrace
yet within our grasp
all we need do
is listen to earth’s language
life

Baby Elf

Baby Elf

choices

she wakes
not entirely welcoming her long life
managing through the tedious days
not advocating movement
yet refusing to die
and unwilling to live

she wakes
joyful of her slow moving parts
each day, an experience to be relished
zest and nectar swallowed
refusing to die
and unwilling to desist

she wakes
exhausted from her 1 am outing
anxious and thrilled
riding youth’s learning curve
refusing to slack
and unwilling to fail

she wakes
fierce observer of love
rallying the weak
cheering the intrepid
guiding the pliable
unwilling to rest

they sleep
she waves wishes and dreams their way
hopes and prayers each night
floating above
every woman’s existence

their journey of choices

meanwhile
beneath her daughter’s pillow, like a fairy’s quarter
she chooses
to hide every chance
she never took…

Caroline Hands Crossed

Caroline Hands Crossed

my beautiful daughter is graduating high school this evening
as I watch her and the older folks very close to me move about their lives
I realize how many choices continue to present themselves each day
the choice to push your body when it’s in pain
the choice to give in and give up
the choice to have a new, fabulous life
the choice to realize you can’t help those unwilling to help themselves

I wish for my daughter all the wonderment of life
may she be happy, may she never fear this world

and congratulations to all whose children are graduating
thank you
am:)

that skin of hers

to get beneath that skin of hers
and force it perfect
I need her to understand
she is beautiful
I need her to see her entirety
to stop doing
what young girls do
not love themselves completely
permit shiny surfaces
and slick ink
to render their forms inferior

these cultures of ours
composed of humanity
but populated by shallow eyes
and deep pockets
should not so easily crawl
into young ears like robotic insects
and sting frail esteem
these young girls are all breathtaking
if we give them some space

they could stop hiding below hard water
and come up for air

if they gaze beyond
how blue the sky can be

Caroline Hands Crossed

Caroline Hands Crossed

words are never empty

empty words
no such things
words have never been
and can never be empty
heavy, yes
thick, cumbersome
devoid of life
platitude dense
all these things words can be
but never empty
they are full
sometimes so much
their very weight
drags inspired arms
to the floor
gentle hands
lose hopeful grip
souls, hearts
cannot defend themselves
against cutting letters
so don’t ever tell me of empty words
there are only hollow thoughts
where your heavy words
have collapsed

Harem Eyes

Harem Eyes

art previously published

that I cannot do

Tell me how
you make it look so easy
They follow you like puppy dogs
that, I cannot do
I’m the one in the corner
watching all the tails wag
If we were in Rome
they’d be your dancing harem
I’d be off in the market
flattening papyrus
or washing sand from between my ink-covered toes
head wrapForlorn
drawn today while subbing