The bad seed :: takes root :: roots extend :: in the head :: A constant branching :: budding bursting :: away :: and away :: and away :: roots branch and extend :: The Holy Schism :: Mother's breast :: bisected :: salt and milk :: curdle :: then settle :: into the nine creamy layers of Hell :: roots extend :: bury into Her pith :: bisected :: a honeysuckle rut :: Mother screams :: a poisonous :: foam :: spraying Her wither around :: killing :: the sacred cow :: :: :: there :: there She is :: the pretty blight :: the slit :: in the stem pursed tight :: down lower :: over two hills :: to a black and blue lagoon :: Mother in bloom :: Her putrid flower :: slaps open sloppy :: wide :: open :: for osmosis :: for curdled spore spew :: sucking flaccid :: with lips and teeth
I look back years to my seventh grade diocese spelling bee-
Everyone buzzed around getting clanky chairs and chatty children in place
All that I could do was sit on the stage sinking down so nervously
Drowning in the scads of sweat flying from my frustrated face
But there was a big-hearted, bumbly, blonde stranger who learned of my lost look
She joyfully joined in on the studies
We sat smiling and sharing the same sapphire book
It wasn’t long before we became buddies.
I stumbled over a senseless word and she must have seen the sharp sting in my sorrowful eyes,
pouring forth comforting words gently like a sweet honey from its comb
Humming hushes to help soften my cries,
She showed me no matter who you be(e) you will never be alone
& to flower forth friendliness for we are all in need
All of us are rained on and growth from pain requires some connection
You must Start with sowing a selfless seed
and then will feel humanity's resurrection
Stolen in tact the passion, that field now lacks
No boundaries, this weight is lifted off my back
Running fast on the tracks
In the cracks of my skin crawls the experimental
Paranormal treasures for your plunder
Nose in the pheromones
Will your molecules react?
Love is chemical.
The spirit of life hides in the flowers
That I jacked, just to give to you, pretty girl...
So maybe you'll be defenseless
To my emotions I wish to unpack
Oh there you are..
This is yours.
Bumblebee Husband arrives at home,
hangs his hat on the rack,
puts his suitcase on the floor,
hears laughter coming from
Puzzzled, he walks to the door
sweating, turns the handle,
a moment forever burned
into his memory.
Next, Cut to scene, night,
camera focuses on a ratty bar
on the edge of the downtown,
the air is thick, humid,
the low glare of neon paints
a desolate parking lot,
the neon sign reads 'The Hive'
and the hum is mind-numbing.
Bumblebee Husband sits at the bar alone,
Grasshopper Bartender absently wipes
the bartop with a dirty rag.
Bumblebee Husband is hunched over his drink,
drowning his sorrows in fermented honey,
grizzled, unshaven. Although surrounded
by the hushed din of conversation,
Bumblebee Husband only hears the
menacing drone of the clock.
The bar closes, we find Bumblebee Husband drunk,
pissing on the brick alley wall,
he looks up at the stars,
feels the cool night air on his face,
wonders what his life would have been like
if he had ended up with Mantis Girlfriend from
College, has the sneaking suspicion that it would
not have ended well, either.
Next, Bumblebee husband is sitting in his car,
the parking lot deserted. Hiccups, thinks of
the last conversation he had with
Bumblebee Wife, she screaming at him.
"Buzz off!" she yelled, he hears it now
echoing in memory. He remembers seeing
them at the divorce hearing,
He wonders how she could have left him.
Left him for Cockroach Boss...
Tears streaming down his mandibles,
he takes the handgun from the glove compartment.
and hopes it will only
for a second.
A butterfly is beautiful until you feel you're sly,
moving close to touch her wings,
and then she may not fly.
But on her feet is magic that makes one flower,
Disturbing the dainty butterfly
Means fewer blooms for you.
the air seized it’s chance today screaming
and every seed burst
obligingly in a torrent of stars and silken hope
yet a mere quarter hence
the deciduous mantle will slip, dowager dry and lentigo browned,
to dance tiny pirouettes with devils of dust & grit
amongst a litter of sepia confetti as summer’s rusted brides fall
their contract fulfilled
In honour of all the cotton fluff filling the air today here’s a older reflection of a previous years event