Categories
Americana electoral process family government government and a lack thereof Hell horror nightmares Uncategorized

after the quake

trudged out of bed
late this morning
not willing to join
this new shaken world
to find my twin sons
seated on the couch
with furrowed brows
tears in their reddened eyes

they’ve endured bullying at school
for being autistic
the whole of their twenty-year-old lives

how horrified they were earlier this year
when they saw a presidential candidate
make fun of a disabled person
during a campaign speech

now that candidate has won the presidency
my sons asked me,

“Mom, we’re scared. How could this happen?”
“How could Americans elect a bully?”
“How will we be safe?”
“Will we be allowed to go to college?”
“Will we be institutionalized?”

answer them, mr. president-elect…

i am a mother
i am a woman
i will unleash hell
before your eyes

Categories
poetry

for we are many

my childhood demons

far outnumber my remaining years

i could waste a lifetime

mitigating them

i shan’t

i’ll do a few shots of holy water instead

these motherfuckers

don’t get

free rent in my head

Categories
poetry writing

two lumps

Sunday is the day

your old ghosts,

demons,

and crushing failures

drop in

for a spot of tea.

Categories
art religion theism travel Urban Legends

The Fountain of Peace, Saint John the Divine, Manhattan, New York

St. John the Divine

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

green glass

i went to a cathedral today
knelt on red velvet
in a vestibule
of a religion
not my own

lit a green glass votive candle
the same color as your eyes

i’ve finally forgiven you

but maybe i only came by that
because i defeated you

in the process
helped save another person’s life

my lips needed no intermediary
speaking directly to grace

i prayed for the salvation
of your undeserving soul

my steady hand
dropped a two dollar bill
in the donation box
remembering
what together felt like

the only thing you ever said to me of value
as we counted church steeples
from a high rise window
in downtown cincinnati
was

a person must have unwavering faith

i no longer believe in you

and though i don’t claim to know what it is

i believe

in the goodness of god

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

you can make a daisy

You, insidious creature,
tell me how the fuck is it
you can make a daisy
mean
death?

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

the big casino

you are a cancer
i carry inside me
one day they will cut you out
and i may die
but at the very least
it will be a state of being
without you

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

the remaining pearls

she
fears
i hold
the black hole history
him
the wasted gas
air fare
the futility of it all
against her
but i do not
i stand solidly incapable
not one part of me misunderstands
or resents her
we accepted the same candy
handed out of a van
we escaped the same mind maddening cage
grew the same gills
we lost pieces of ourselves fighting
the same bloody war
left with the same bite marks
scars
and rage
so when i hear her heart still beating
i smile and think of us
diving through sargasso
for the remaining pearls

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

building walls from the days

my hands are raw and bloodied
from building walls from the days
which separate you from my sanity
you, minotaur
cloven hoofed pacing with vengeful horns
wallowing in your own shit piles screaming
within the belly of my maze

Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

white shoulders

to him
every hole
in a woman’s body
is an invitation to violence

ears are for filling with bile
the mouth is for gagging
the tongue will scream until it is cut out

lips for splitting with fists

the sex organ and anus
interchangeable
meant only for acts of desecration
in the temple

the stench of his sickness
mixing with old lady perfume
filling your nose

as he guts you

his final act
waxing romantic
about telling his mother
“I hope you get cancer of the eyes”

as your bride of frankenstein flesh dies

left to rot in the square
for all the pitch fork and torch bearing
townspeople to behold

yet he is overjoyed
with his trophies left behind
some red nail polish
a few lipsticks
and our clothing
hanging carcasses
in his meat locker closet
as he made sure all of us wore
his perfect dress size