the flashlight works if you shake it. this tree is the tree you should use. every other home is broken. every other window has in it my house arrested father. the dog run off, the dog come back. back with a beauty I will bed to babysit my brother. the crow is empty. a plaything, a part of the show. crow can be blindfold, camera. can censor among other things an exposed breast. the fence wasn’t here when we got here so it’s not here now. an uncle says there is a dog only he can hear. will say anything to get laid. in all fairness I’ve failed more than once to insert myself into the loneliness of my person.
With downcast eyes
They headed down,
a mother and her son.
Tears now seemed
in short supply,
both emotionally numb.
John looked back
At the vacant cross
where brother Jesus died.
Low grey clouds
obscured the sun
where He was crucified.
At times like this
it’s hard to hope.
And most forget to pray.
“It is finished.” Jesus said
Of this, our Passion Play.
She kept me warm
so i gave her my heat
and she re-gifted it
and i was cold.
He tucks me in
with sweet words
that evoke crinkled eyes
and upturned corners
and someone will be lucky
to be his love
She knows the sound
my tears make as they fall
through the ground
because hers have fallen the same
and she knows the taste of pain
when a heart breaks this way
because hers was broken the same
so she indulges me
and loves me
and carries me through the day
and i don’t tell her everything
but she feels my misery
She caught the choke
around my throat when
i didn’t know how to live
and she picked me up
and told me to walk
gave what she had to give.
I’m not fixed,
but I’m still alive,
and she is responsible for that.
He validates me
when i feel i must be crazy
he tells me i’m not
without any prompt
and says he’ll always be
Big Brother to me
She sticks around
even though I’m obviously crazy.
She’s already seen me go through my worst.
She just listens and takes it in
and we go for a walk
and another day passes
while she is my friend
My father once told me the story.of The Scorpion and the frog,
Have you heard it? Robert Blake told to me a couple.of times too while I watched
You know.ole "don't do the crime if you can't do the time"Baretta.But
I digress.That was a long time and one murder ago.
A tale of woe of being true to one's nature.
A scorpion stood on the river bank seeking to cross for the family reunion.
Comes a frog swimming along.trying to get to his nephew's wedding.
So. Brer scorpion sticks up a thumb
"Going my way" ? He says.
Sure said the frog but jump on that log .you might float over by sundown.
"If you let me ride over on your back,I can get there in time for the feast"
No way Jose,"you will sting me to death if I let you climb on"
said the frog.
The scorpion insisted even offering bribes until the frog recanted.
The frog pushed of with his cargo aboard.looking back with one eye and the bank
with the other not really trusting his long tailed brother then BANG,BANG
went the scorpion's tail.Frog was done mid river
sinking slowly he began to shiver.
"But you will die too he said to the frog."
"Believe me I know" said the venomous bug
"Then why asked the frog"?
"Fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly"
"The moment you let me on We were destined to die "
"Nature called. That was all. Nothing personal friend"
"I will see you on the other side and thanks for the ride"
It’s amazing how one hospital trip can change the rest of your life. Or even lack of one even. He was four. I, three. It was late, I had no idea why I was going to Bridget and John’s house. More importantly, I didn’t know why Zack wasn’t coming with me. 11 pm, I guess that’s pretty late for a three year old. I don’t think at that point I really had any grasp on what was actually happening. That nothing would ever be the same again. Half asleep, trudging to that sliding glass door I’d seen hundreds of times. I went into the house, the aroma of sweet cinnamon and love hung in the air.
Burnt toast and peanut butter. That pretty much sums up an entire year of my life. Three years old, and for almost every weekend, which was too many, spent with Bridget and John, sleepless nights and peanut butter toast. There was: late night toast, midnight toast, way too early morning toast, morning toast, breakfast toast, too much toast. I think I was a picky three year old, then again, that isn’t exactly unheard of. I wasn’t very fond of peanut butter or toast, but I still ate it. I yearned for a sweet taste of normality. I craved something routine. Funny, because my life was everything but normal during that year. Funny, because I will never eat peanut butter toast ever, again.
Many nights spent waiting for an answer. Wishing to go back, and hoping for everything to be okay. But as the car rolled out of the gravel driveway on that first night, so did an unmedicated future for my brother.
Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
The union man don’t give a damn, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
The boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.
Bob walks the streets and begs for eats or little jobs for trying
“The answer’s no, you ought to know, no use for you applying,
And don’t be sad, it aint that bad, it’s soon your time for dying.”
The air is thick, his baby’s sick, the cries are multiplying.
Bob’s wife’s in town, she’s broken down, she’s ranting with a fury,
Their life of sin has done them in, they skirmish, scrimp and scurry,
Their baby coughs, the doctor scoffs, the snow is all a’ flurry,
Bob’s midnight dreams are filled with screams; he knows he needs to hurry.
It’s getting late, Bob’s tempting fate, his choices cruel and blurry.
He chooses gas, they breathe their last, there’s no more cause to worry...
Because of Adam we are dust and return from which we came
But at the cross Jesus conqueror the grave...
So that's not where we remain.
Fly like doves in heaven the eternally saved
Death often brings pain and thoughts of rage..
Like how he die so early..
Yet we know he's in peace .. in heaven there's no surgery
On earth lives are at stake..
The gift of birth God gives but the flesh is limited so the Spirit he takeneth away
So Donnell's life was a gift..
So remember when there's sorrow there is glory at the end
God knew what we needed couldn't have made another..
To Caprice, Erin, and his other siblings he was a brother..
When he was born Neicy became a mother
To Clarence a nephew to Ms. Cooper a grandchild...
To me a playmate young and running wild
My eyes water while kneeling on the Floor
Praying for the healing of hearts that are sore
But to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord
U with God and the angels now I can feel u hover..
Up in the heavens above us
Face to Face now u can see how much Christ loves us
Walking on gold paved streets...
Like a dream something we cant even fathom in our sleep,
Started writing this with a tear..
It trickled into this here..
Words to my brother in heaven there's Nothing to fear
So God I will not question..
Cause when its time he reveals the answers to life lessons..
Oh the Thoughts of entering into heaven..
My brother at 27..
Walking around in heaven..
When its all said and done God is forever omnipresent
do you still despise your father
because he had another woman,
& left you & your brother for her?
"oh no, now, no one will ever care"
do you still resent your mother
because she turned a blind eye
& collasped with shame when it came to light?
"oh no, I'll be more unyielding than that"
& so it is no small wonder to me
that when you gaze at yourself
you must see the whore that you are
you still take his money after all.
that sort of self-disgust must be
pretty hard to swallow, digest.
no wonder, you're always hungry & hollow
oh you'll consume anything he pays for
(I, myself, must admit I made the mistake of
finding an abyss inside a void)
but spaces are not always places
aches are not always pains
I loved you once
but I won't ever again
My daughter came home sunday
And pronounced as loud as hell
I got married on vacation
And there's plenty here to tell
From now on it's a new thing
At Christmas, here's the test
Before we eat our dinner
By a rabbi, it is blessed
Her mother, not the sharpest
Thought a bit, and with a grin
Said, if we sit down with a rabbi
Would he truly , well...fit in?
My daughter said, well Mama
The man that I just wed
Is jewish so I'm changing
I felt a pounding in my head
From now on a menorah
Would be needed in the house
My wife said, no more pets here
Your brother has a mouse
My daughter said, no mama
It's a special, holy thing
Where you light up eight blessed candles
And enjoy the holiness they bring
My wife, said, Oh I knew that
I was testing, that was all
I'll put one on my shopping list
I'll go and buy one at the mall
My daughter then continued
there's other changes that will come
I just stood there, headache pounding
I was feeling deaf and dumb
The Christmas Tree will have to go
No turkey, kosher food
No crackers or old stockings
They may think of these as rude
At this point I exploded
No Christmas Tree, no way
Little girl, this is my house, my dear
Now, listen as I say
The tree will be as always
In the corner by the fire
the stocking hung with tender care
With nails and picture wire
The turkey will be 20 pounds
At least, stuffed full of bread
Kosher food, if served here
Will be only if I'm dead
Christmas is my holiday
It's in my house, where I am boss
And I say we have a turkey
And pray to Jesus on the Cross
A Kosher Kristmas in this house
May never come to pass
We can celebrate at your new home
Got it straight, my little lass
In my house I'm the ruler
So don't come in with something new
In my house we are Christian
And we celebrate a jew
We will welcome your new husband
To our home at Christmas time
But, while you're in this dwelling
The rules in force are mine
If you want a Kosher Kristmas
I think it is a good idea
If you celebrate together
But you do no do it here....
She was very jealous of
me, you knew that,
but what you didn't know is that
I'm jealous of her.
She has you, to
kiss, but yet,
she was jealous of me.
Me, his "sister,"
his "never love you more than
a sister" friend.
What you don't know,
and probably never will,
is that I could love you more
than a brother.
Don't worry though,
I'm a whore and write about every
boy or girl I find an interest in.
None of them are quite that special,
well they were, but I jump from
as if they meant nothing to me.
So, she shouldn't be jealous of me,
I'm just another whore.