chew at the joints
break you like a wishbone on Thanksgiving
eat your leftover stuffing for breakfast
falling from your guts
from the barrage of hurtful words
pelted at your stomach
from the night before
feelings leaking out like a southern school faucet
school’s got less funding
than the local football budget
you've got always got a meal ticket in me
I'll be somewhere
who cuts you up for dinner
sets the table
makes sure to set you in your place
surging through your field
like a Mongolian lord
kin of Genghis Khan
destroying while destroying
first your ego then your toys
hang your corpse like a wet towel
like a scarecrow
scaring the others into submission
I'll be your king, your rapist
your vengeful employer
who’s no good at working
so he works you to the bone
I've always wanted to control men
I’ve always wanted to rape things
to destroy the nations of little boys
dead set on upsetting the lives of little girls
ten little Indian girls
legs spread on pine needles
tickled in between their tunics
with their own precious headdresses
bloodied by the hand of trusted pilgrims
who show them what a powerful leader does
lets them know copulating countries by force
is how to get things done
is how to get things we want
lie down my child I'll plow your field like the corn
we stole & serve annually to our grandchildren
home from their education about this great nation
to feast on the blood of dead babies
& dead traditions
like the genocide we applied
like the entire native population
let you know that the matriarch tastes just as bitter
just spelled with different letters
made up of pretty hair
spite like yours
we are decked head to toe in our ancestor’s feathers
wearing the mask of a new vendetta
and we are
coming to get you
She fell and broke her hip
Though that’s not what killed her
No, she fought long and hard to keep her sanity
A matriarch, the last matriarch
She never stood a chance
Through bouts of forgetfulness
She cringed as she sat
Rolling with a fool’s smile
Talking nonsense like Nero must have
Playing his fiddle
Our family burned up but she never knew
there once was a woman named Arlene
who had an older sister named Darlene
their youngest sister was named Karlene
and her twin was named Charlene
the ladies of (lene) had a matriarch named Marlene
bonetender night, polaric.
windswept crown atones
rigid matriarch condones
tantrum medication. vast
control shapes diminished conscience,
migrane pulse doctorate.
sad shell housing beaten wails,
a closed eye, ear to brains.
steady now, absorb sultry stance.
dim lamp set on autonomic fade.
Crown of interlucense
Crafted en aeon, emerald, and ebony
Matriarch a La Flora Marquee
Vida; en silken veil
La Corazon of Crystal Aquarius
In gown of nights starry spinel.
Exile; she weeps
En final desperate lament
The tears of amber & ember
La Valor De La Vida~
You took me in like a matriarch
takes in a poor orphan
dirty and hungry off the boulevard.
Well just know baby girl, every night
I pray for the crops to fail and your
stomach to swell.
You took me in like a mother
takes in a curious toddler
sticky and fragile strapped in the car
seat. Well just know baby girl, every night
I pray for your breaks to go out and your
seat belt to break.
Sleep with a wrench
For my protection
Always from violent men
Who head my family
Never been struck
Always threatened of my life
They all sleep with guns
Fear their transgressions
Committed and damage done
Eyes ever open
Rage that they failed
Whatever standard was set
It makes me worry so hard
Can't take shock to a failing heart
How easy would it be
With this metal beat
I walked over a hill
at seventy miles an hour.
Through the early dew I
experienced geography like an audio
sample. I tasted the black
road. I was suspended in
the air. I heard my
edges falling into the grass,
carried by an unkind wind.
For a brief moment, I
understood the earth and
sought to shirk its pull.
I am a fruit from
a tree, a moist bead
that sings to its matriarch
root, but of the tree
of knowledge. I will fall
from my branch so as
not to bend in the
I want you to dribble.
I want you to turn
From the matriarch past
To a subject to learn.
I want to state plainly.
I want you to see
What your vain, selfish givings
Have created in me:
Most lustful of torments,
Low pains from my knees,
A pattern for this mind's
Truly bittersweet disease.
Just twelve years of innocence,
Could've thanked you for that,
As you gouged in this monster
Within this boy on his back.
I often search for the key now,
That I might walk from this cell.
But I'm still Pavlov's pup,
With you holding the bell.
My mother told me when I was a boy
Son look up, and see it, that grand old sky.
But now I suspect, her meaning was coy.
When I look up, I see that we will die.
This great ordeal will end without a ring.
For I have befallen no matriarch.
Not one coy mistress to dinner I bring.
For life is as passioned as my food's starch.
I don't want a body, merely your heart.
I no longer care, life has lost its art.