The Highway Halfway Mark I wonder, I do. I cannot help but wonder what’s down the road from the place I have ever truly called home. The wood and grass and nails and bolts, the wet familiar dew smells and giggling baby sounds. The joy and the sorrow. I can’t help but observe and wonder. The funny, peculiar, crooked way of seeing the world that is all my own. The structure has cracks, fissures, and deep
To steal all that was pure and innocent Before she had the chance to experience All the changing shapes of her body The first kiss, crush, giddiness, and her exploding sexuality Making her feel dirty and ashamed Carrying secrets that did not belong to her Not yet a woman, barely a girl, and merely a child Undressed and exposed A child who would grow up and cower by the touch
There comes a point in life when you must accept the reality and the gift that is the passage of time. While I know in my heart, our time grows shorter and shorter I can’t help but be bitchy, mean, selfish and lose my patience daily. I have not been the easiest child. The woman who birthed me has been a mother since she could walk, and always has my
I wonder what dreams you gave up so that we could follow ours? I wonder how much pain we caused, and yet you never complained. And what about before us, when you had your own first family? You provided shelter, comfort food, and stability when you lost your own mother so young. That must have been hard, and yet you carried yourself with grace and grit. You have been carrying
I’m done with the trolls and their hollow, spewing hateful opinions. I am over the ambivalence. I’m done with people who say they don’t care about politics, only the value of their stocks, guns and the art of the deal. I’m done with friends and family who live under the crowded veil of ignorance. I’m done with the bullies, the posturing, the greased palms, the narcissists. We won’t recover from
I had the craziest dream. Sweet Gardenia blossoms grew immense enveloping firestorms and chaos, masquerading all traces of ash and burn. The intoxicating scent of sweet perfume permeated the clean air, creating nursery rows of safety bubble greenhouses. A young girl’s innocence remained pure and virtuous. Flowering freedom rained dewdrops of kindness. There were no guns, no mass graves, no starvation, no rape, no death. No dead children. No hate.
Believe that you are better than Money Power Greed Hate Terrorists Trump NRA Bullies Shady Politicians Believe that if you haven’t lost someone you love To Mass Shootings You are blessed, the lucky one Pretend it won’t ever happen Pretend it’s impossible Pretend doesn’t work much these days It can’t happen? Not today, not in your town, not in your house The one safe space And then indulge me Close
Precious heart you don’t fool me Not everyone is good, not everyone is kind Precious heart do not worry your sad little boombox beats Or tragic flatlines It’s a half hearted day like all others For better or worse I’m tired and my head hurts I’m not a good person some of the time I’m blood sour and thick Precious heart, you’re just a pump You feel me The most
