Daily Post Prompt · Uncategorized

A Pre-Coined Formula

I shall withstand you, my error, So make the most of her, your little doe, Your little bunny, your little much fairer, I won’t forgive, or feign, or move aside, Until your conscience is set afire; by and by I shan’t forget you, as I said, but now If you embarrass me with your crudest tongue, I will assuage you with my easiest truth. I would never that lust were more simply-cold, And odes were not so brilliantly blinding as they are, But so it is, and nurture has failed To teach from our past cupids’ mistakes thus far,– Whether or not we come out of this alive is irrelevant, for the heart already bleeds thinly thru much too thick a scar.

In response to Daily Post Prompt “Aesthetic

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Repetitive Intimacy

She writes same as she loves
Amorous and moody
And she eats a fig
As she drinks her diet tea
With the tease of her tongue
Around a salty mushroom head
The words flirting
With any space to give
Remember her
She was pale with such
A rash of sweetness
But boy don’t self flatter
Cause that was just the sugar
And the ice won’t help
When the pen is out of ink
Pull your zipper up
Lay the paper down
A sudden exhaustion
The daily grind
Too many distractions!
With a new sunrise
The twins no of no sleep
An acute list left
To prioritize
Pull back your bow
Rest on glass hooves
We don’t need his kiss
Or want his need
And that same dictionary
Wasting on a dusty shelf
Those old charms just can’t do
Logic is in clear sight
Steady steady
Breathing today won’t hurt
Until today becomes tonight
Pathetic pleas now just curt
Each has awoken
From one another they tear
A meaningless come hither
All dazzling spells lay broken
Romances best shattered
Tentative rhymes only jest
A billie goat’s bleating
His pride pool blood battered
Against my heart lacking chest
Fingernails screeching
Sheets of blank lines scattered
Boredom so imminent
Bursting such the fragile bond
Once you thought so infinite
Close your eyes dear
The covers are on
Rip the pages clear
Cause from the beginning
This dance had been done.

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REMEMBER TO REMIND

Writing Reminder Note: Little Shadows

can’t write the note yet, little spiders, little  shadows scurrying, hissing at the cat trying to chase the broom, but really she’s fast asleep on the bed in my son’s room

i sweep it all up. it’s not scary.

oh that’s right, i forgot to eat. i got the pizza from the fundraiser in the to-go container.

to-go container, to-go box, empty box over there, waiting to be filled with stuff, the big pack the big move has come and there is so little time left to kill

i box it all up. not all of it.

oh yes, the little shadows. i’m hungry. that pizza. i should save some though, baby boy is off peanut butter i guess, reminds him of being sick.

so no more sack lunch sandwiches, he wants leftover pizza (MY leftover pizza) instead, pleeeeeeease…which means less to eat for me and i have to pick off everything but the cheeeeeeeese

oh my god i’m tired, brain pain–oh the shadows, i forgot! i’ll go now and write a reminder to–wait, finish preparing your morning scripts, or you know you’ll forget those next and you must have them at first alarm tomorrow, at your side in bed.

and grab some gatorade.

stupid little startling shadows. the least of the worst of that which flies out of my head.

 

 

Daily Post Prompt · Uncategorized

they are due here by invitation

   

those winds are blowin sharp tonight
this air is thick with hunger and sweat
beads of voracity run down their neck
calm as the dead for me as i wait in wet

inside though tells a different tale
my fever cuts thru too deep
down below a familiar churning
all my sweetness fades away
little devil his horns soon to swell

all hands are a mess on me now
clumsily racing over marks left
not by another’s anger but my own
scratching away the regrets i make
the shame and the sorrow of lost time
loneliness and pity that i can’t escape

let’s pull at it quickly now oh it seems
their breath is hot and relentless pouring
out upon my neck with thick sourness
all intentions have a target but no depth
sweet southern cures and not gutted blame
i set out to let them in, to welcome the new pain
putting on the act, hiding the reality i lamely feign

calloused palms leave fresh square yellow bruises
salacious slurs spray with my blood from their lips
giving verifiable substance to my nonexistence
and for it all i cry out needing it more and more
please good true doctor god, tell me tell me
is there a way out of this, the right path home
or am i forever a loyal slave to the other side
a wretched whore of  the black snake moan

posted in response to Daily Post Prompt “Invitation

Daily Post Challenge · Uncategorized

Long-Term Life Goals=The Inevitably Ephemeral

I found this little notebook, just last night after reading about the latest Daily Post challenge. Filled in with various forms of poetry and a sometimes disturbing river of streaming consciousness writings, (in the penmanship of a 2nd grade boy), and this awesome cliché of a list was also included:

“Goals to Become or Accomplish by Age 35”

 

Yeah, I know.

And now here I am, having just recently celebrated my 36th birthday

Let’s see how many boxes I was able to check off the list:

Mother (duh, Female Goals 101): CHECK.

I am currently a Stay at Home Mom to my 5-year-old son. (Although that SAHM title won’t hold up for long, now that my one child is an almost full-time elementary student, and Mama ain’t no crafty “Homemaker,” when left alone to her own devices.)

Teacher AND Ambassador: CHECK.

– All parents are Insta-Teachers/Ambassadors. For better or worse. Mostly worse.

POLITICAL FIGURE: CHECK.

– I’m totally suicidal. I mean, political. And a (ghastly) figure to boot.

JOURNALIST: CHECK. (But please just don’t check the facts on this one…)

– Blogging and creating online memes count as journalism, right? Trolling fake news to retweet? How about being an avid fan of Full Frontal with Sam Bee and Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, etc? Fox news can suck every backwards and crooked dikc they promote. See, only a true journalist would say that.

GUEST ON OPRAH: SEMI-CHECK.

– Um, should have been, but instead of giving me one more minute to blow everyone’s mind, someone got lazy and retired. Ugh. Well, I do “Oprah” myself all of the time. I cry over everything. It’s called seeking fatal doses of heart-breaking perspective, people.

AN ACCOMPLISHED ACTRESS: CHECKish.

– I’ve had my quick 10 minutes of Hollywood fame, like, 7 years ago. Don’t fucking waste your time with imdb.com right now. You don’t even know my name. And if I was ever a big deal, you would already have realized it. But I do have verifiable “acting” credits, and I didn’t say I had to be a good actress, so…

And of course, if ALL else failed, my fall-back goal: Humanitarian.

– Well, if I wasn’t a natural-born humanitarian, and if I am still not a humanitarian by now, in my mid-30s…Then one must beg the question: What the fuck is wrong with me?

The idealism of a delusional 15 year old…But I was 25.

The “10 Year Plan,” is universally fleeting.

Until THIS official “Transcript” happened.

Shit just got real.

goals-by-35