My only child, whom I love
Angels sent you from above
As pure to me as a white dove
A happiness I knew not of
Every day your shining face
Showed me love I could embrace
My heart and soul it interlaced
To never move from it's place
We really did have lots of fun
You and I, little one
I never wanted it to be done
Every moment in the sun
Although we were torn apart
For a while, for your part
You loved me still in you heart
And faith, in me, you did impart
Yours is love,the greatest gift
And it does, my spirits lift
Though there was an enormous rift
You never from my heart did drift
You never failed, my loving child
To show to me your caring mild
Your angel face that always smiled
And many kisses upon me piled
And now that you are fully grown
The memories that I do own
Seeds, that in my heart were sown
Of happiness that we have known
And even though I reminisce
Of times, I feel, that I did miss
Or of you was, perhaps remiss
These you tenderly dismiss
Your everything a child should be
I truly feel your love for me
And in you myself I see
Everything good of some degree
And I do know as time goes on
As surely as there will be dawn
That even after I am gone
Your love for me will live on
Clockwork child with neon eyes
you've seen so many things
the death of man and fallen skies
and winter born of spring
Your clockwork mind predicted all
but man was far too dumb
to heed your words upon the wall
and so you just kept sthum
Your clockwork heart broke like a Child
as nature payed the price
and now the dead are neatly piled
beneath a world of ice
Words
Are the bridges between bodies
Piled atop pillars of patience and pain
Crafted from countless islands in the sea,
As bodies spoke for themselves—
In the grunt of disapproval,
In the violent gesture of rage.
Words
Are also highways into hearts
Into the icy crevices in your chest
Which burn with a boiling intensity
At the beautiful phrases that melt the hearts
That once hardened with rage
At the fluttering phrases of falsity
And the counting down to silence.
Words
Tunnel to the mind
Sneak in undetected, disguised as beggars,
Merchants of ideas, and not thieves
Of self-esteem and self-love.
Words
Tunnel through the walls,
Baring steel and fire
Hidden beneath cloaks
And beautiful illusions
Which inflamed your heart and
Bridged the space between you
While you lay awake
Adrift at sea.
Words
Form sentences
Which create paragraphs
Infinite arrangements of ideas and meaning
But sometimes
In the silence following submission
To sadness or grief
Words begin to mean
Absolutely nothing
In this vast and empty sea.
Like a pin cushion I wait for the next edge to serrate,
it's been months since I've felt such hate
The metal will not yield
It refuses to bend and spill; lashing obscenely, obstinately adamant
The screws which drive this hastened race have failed to open
And the cold is ever vigilant, lurking in the sinuses of apathy
Forlorn attempts to reconciliate have piled consistently
And further ones will also fail inevitably
The need for a past is much greater than the search for a future
Knowing what has been matters more than what will come
For dying knowing what could have been is easier,
than to die not knowing what was.
Our lives have become leftovers and overdue books
Precariously piled porcelain plates
Novels not half read with turned over corners
Both marking the inconsistencies we otherwise chose to ignore
Because dishes only tower when the space outside my bedroom collapses
And stories seem half good with my eyes half shut
And lately that is all they ever are
For what fable is comparable to the shapes I see unconsciously
When cups and bowls are forgotten
When the inconsistencies do not matter because I am close enough to dead
But eyes seem always to open when I least like
And my teetering towers will crash soon enough
With the change I turn over like my pages to pay the fines
Because leftovers become stale
And the books are not mine to keep
The apartment hasn’t been cleaned for so long and has housed a depressive in it for the same length of time so that there is a glaze of slime-dirt on the floor, made of dried coffee, hot chocolate, maybe some lube or some spillage from a tube of steroid cream to treat an inflammation that never really goes. The rate of ooze changes?. Clean textiles are piled up on the floor, never having been folded, and mix here and there with dirty: practical fatpants that make me look like a geologist and white-white cotton blankets that can be washed on HOT with lots of bleach that I purloined from some mentalhealthfacility. The inbox is full of—is bristling with—remonstrances from Programs for the Nondoer—you haven’t filed, haven’t turnstiled, haven’t had your hologram chip assessed by central CENTRAL intelligence, what is wrong with you. Upon stepping outside there is a beat during which I think maybe somewonder might swirl and buoy but no, just wethumid and dirty, sidewalks cruddy and Haitians and quasi-Haitians muttering “taxitaxitaxi” in front of their Gypsy conveyances with their dubious certifications. I should go for a ride in one, a dubious passenger for a dubious palanquin. I tried the library but it was too hot and decrepit and too filled with Books For African-Americans, which always pisses me off; are only African-Americans going to read Wright or Douglass or Brooks? Everyone is overrated, anyway, movies and theater and the moribund beat of commerce, and as the dangerous autos pass, sometimes not running you over, you can see morechange in the pockets of the shareholders of BeePee and Iacocca Coach-Wirx. Any friendliness exhibited seems to contain an underovertone of You’re Not Included Whiteboy White Nigger Ghost Honky, all archaic names I’ve been almost astounded to be called usually while balancing on tiptoe on some lurching, roaring dieselbus, grinding past off-off-off brand groceries that do a dubious business. While making my police report I wink at a sevenyearold boy and I get a lustrous wink back butalas this is not enough to beat back those slurrycolored brainfazes.
You filled my room with a presence it had never felt before,
I, had never felt before
Almost as if you two had met before
Almost as if you knew everything about my empty walls,
and why they were so empty
Why my clothes were piled higher than Mt. Everest
Why my pictures lay flat on my stereo,
Why the air was so frigid
As if you always knew,
and I never did
You love that too,
That I don't know.
But now I am left hanging
Like those flowers you bought for me last week
Beautiful without a doubt, and still
So beautiful through my eyes
But now,
They will hang
And hang
And hang
And I will keep them hanging
In my room, near the frigid window of mine
until you come back to my room
Maybe not so empty as before
Maybe my bed made this time
Maybe a bit warm for once
And when you come back,
I'll set them back in that same vase
And they will look just as beautiful as they did before
If not, more gorgeous than I could have ever imagined
And we will both know exactly why
There isn't really any significance in our attempts
The sweater's string is being pulled as we continue to knit
But the string is unraveling and we are left only cold
The pasta on our plate is nothing but an appealing fake
So our bellies are empty and our shoulders are shivering
We lay there limply as we are slowly wrapped in our own string
Wrists and ankles bound by unfulfilled and color-coded dreams
An S & M horror show in the sheets with life, us, & we
Dancing like a jerky ballerina, eyes glazed over now
We used to know how to walk and talk, but we've forgotten how
So as puppets we are told that we are not cold nor hungry
And that everything is fine and everything is as it seems
So we smile, thinking our wooden houses can make us happy
We don't notice that everything is painted the same color
Or girls and boys look exactly like their fathers and mothers
And we are just waiting to be piled onto the dead heap
Of broken toys and broken dreams that sometimes plagues our deep sleep
That feeling when you get really sad sometimes, that's what that is
So cut your strings, and think some things, breathe out as human again
The puppeteer has no time to hear of a few strings snapping
He has his hands full keeping down the human spirit, you know?
And when he's sleeping, cut off his fingers and his little toes
I know you are worried because you are tiny and alone
But he can't do anything if he has nothing to control
If the blade is still bloody, do not clean any of it off
Use the blood and blade to cut the strings and soak their wood awash
Wood stained red, breathe life again, their eyes light up with words unsaid
And the lonely alabaster trees are swaying in the breeze
Red streamers tied to the branches to signify what is free
If only someone really had the courage to cut the strings
I could go for the gritty, teeth-biting, bloody, anarchy.
I opened my eyes and turned to look at my phone thinking to myself I never wake up before the alarm, this would be a first time. Still sleep in my eyes my vision was still blurry and to my surprise it read 8 o clock. I jumped up; I'm supposed to be clocking in right now. I ran to the dryer to get dressed and I still had damp socks. My dress shirt was wrinkly and my slacks too, but I didn't have time to iron, today was the big meeting at work and I'm late, I was shooting for the promotion, now I'm worried about getting fired, oh great, I'm starting to perspire, I'm relying on you today old spice. My sister just bought me a wall hook for my car keys last week for my birthday, but did I use it? Nope. Now I'm retracing my steps from last night. Where did I put them? I'm frantically looking all over the house for those darn keys, pacing, back and forth. There they are! Still in the lock hanging from the front door. I grab my briefcase half dressed sort of a mess and I run outside to hop into my car. As I trot through the grass I feel a squish under my suede shoes, oh no I just stepped in my dogs pooh. Oh yeah! My dog, I have a dog, I have to let her outside before I leave. Already twenty minutes late I'm sitting in my backyard hosing my shoes waiting for my German Sheppard to go number two. After what felt like an eternity she finally does. “Come here girl, lets go inside”, I said. She sits by the fence and looks at me with a blank stare. “Come on, want a treat?” Still she doesn't budge. Of all days, today she chooses to not listen. I put one leg inside the door and say. “Who’s there!” The dog finally starts to walk to come inside but then through the middle of the yard runs a squirrel. She chased that thing like it was the end of the world. Running back and forth across the fence barking and panting, growling and snarling. I went and grabbed the leash and hooked it to her collar to bring her in the house. Finally, I'm on my way now. I forgot I need to put my new sticker on my license plate, oh well, I'm not even going to bother, that can wait until later. Two blocks out of my driveway I hear a whoop, whoop, I see flashing lights from my rear view mirror, I hit my steering wheel and let out a yell! Can this day get any worst I shout! The answer to that was yes. I handed the officer my license and she asked me do you know why I pulled you over? In reply I said, “because today is national shit on me day”. A little advice, if you’re in a hurry, do not, I repeat, do not be a smart ass to a police officer. I waited and waited, watching the hand go around on my watch, ten minutes has passed but still no sign of the cop, finally, after twenty two minutes she hands me a staple of papers to inform me today I am receiving three tickets. One for not having the sticker on my plates, one for expired car insurance and one for not wearing a seatbelt. She said her goodbye with, “next time an officer asks you a question do it with less attitude, have a nice day sir”. Even though this morning has been frustrating and very odd at the least I think I was finally on my way to work and could get back to a normal day. I was ten minutes away from the building I worked in zoned out to the radio seeming as if today wad slowly but surely getting better, the meteorologist said sunny and warm with little to no chance of rain. See, today was already on the up and up. Ding, ding, ding, ding, I heard a ringing half a block up to realize the bridge over the river was going up for a boat to get through. I already pulled to close to the car in front of mine and the car behind me did the same, I was stuck. More waiting and more waiting, that seems to be the theme of my day. Looking for a big boat to pass by, to my surprise, I see a gondola row by with a happy anniversary balloon tied to it. The bridge, which felt like forever, finally connected and we could start driving again. I’m almost two hours late and I get stuck behind the oldest lady you’ve ever seen, with glasses to match her age driving thirteen miles per hour on a one-way street. I’m usually pretty patient but under today’s circumstances I was annoyed and decided to turn and take another route, this is where I pulled behind a student driver who they decide to teach how to drive during the morning rush hour commute. Thirty minutes later and two hours and twenty-four minutes late to work I pull into the parking lot to come and see that there is a UPS truck parked in my assigned parking spot, the spot I earned for five years of service to my company. I drove and drove; there were two spots left in the entire parking lot, the very last back spot and the extra spots made across the street. I pulled into the last spot available and hurried out of my car and half walked, half jogged to the building. Before I stepped into the building from outside I wanted to fix my tie and make sure my shirt was tucked in so I was presentable. I set my briefcase on the sidewalk and the latch snapped off and it opened up. One piece of paper flew out and just my luck the wind decides to pick up and blows it into the air. Now I’m in front of my work walking under a piece of paper with my arms out like a mummy waiting for it to get low enough so I can grab it. Finally, I was able to get it back and I lowered my head to walk into the building when I noticed I chased this sheet all the way back to my car. I tried to stay optimistic and said to myself to put all of the bad, strange happenings this morning in the past and try and have a good rest of the day. I was saying this in my head to myself right as I was checking in at the security desk to sign in; I was fiddling through my pockets for my I.D. badge but couldn’t find it. I remembered I left them in my black slacks that are hung over my dining room chair at home, and since this is a Federal building they will not permit me to go in unless a boss or manager on duty escorts me up to our office. Already two and a half hours late for our quarterly meeting, the security officer has to interrupt the meeting I’m late for and ask the Manager, the same manager who is going to be announcing who gets the big promotion I have been working so hard for to come down and hold my hand up to our office. We are located on the thirty third floor, so it does take a few minutes to get down to the lobby, fifteen minutes later I saw my boss strut over to me with the power walk he does and say, “come on, I don’t have all day”. I clicked the number thirty three on the elevator and usually I wait about a minute, two at the most, but of course today we waited six minutes, the doors slid open and we stepped on to go up when a hand slipped between the doors so they would open back up. I heard, “hold that elevator”, and when the doors fully opened a dozen people piled on, and not only did that make me have to squish into my boss, these twelve people all worked for different companies that were on different floors that were all before our stop, and I think the flower delivery guy farted because after he got off it stunk, which my boss grimaced at me for. Twelve long, long stops of an awkward silence can go in my top three worst moments of my life category. I got to my desk and was told I did not need to attend the remainder of today’s meeting. I received pity stares from the secretaries and newer employees and got charity I’m sorry’s from my friends. I had an old school, hard ass boss who held any little mistake to very high standards, so I knew I was not going to get that promotion. I was okay with that, I still had my job and it’s just one bad morning, the rest of the day will turn around. It was 11:30 and a memo was passed around the office from the boss stating that he would like everyone to meet at the restaurant across the street for lunch for a job well done in today’s meeting. First thing I thought of when I read that memo was I forgot my badge in my work pants from yesterday, I think I left my wallet in there too. It wasn’t in my back pocket, in my desk or my briefcase; it’s definitely at home. I can’t skip out on this lunch, but how am I supposed to pay for it? I remembered that I paid for a lunch bill a few weeks back for a coworker of mine because he left his credit card at the office, I could explain to him what’s going on and I’m sure he’d cover for me this time. Right before noon I headed over to his desk area, I saw him stand up from his chair so I figured I could walk with him over to the restaurant. Right as I was about to tap him on the shoulder the boss grabs me by my upper arm and tells me to walk with him. This is the type of guy you don’t tell no to or to hold on a second, you just go with what he says. The reason he wanted to walk with me over to the restaurant was to tell me to not worry about this morning and to let me know we all have rough days and to just forget today, he actually told me he appreciates my hard work I do for the company. It was nice to hear that from the top guy, but at the same time I was nervous for the check to come at lunch. I ordered the cheapest item they had on the menu; and let me tell you that fancy restaurants are not accustomed to low prices. A half grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of water was eleven dollars. When the waitress put the check on the table I did the whole touch all of my pockets to act as if I’m looking for my wallet, then I got up and looked under the chair I was sitting in, and of course the boss man noticed first. He insisted that he’d pick up my tab. After he gave a toast to all of us and we started heading back to the office he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I guess it will be ok if you stay a hour or two extra tonight, right?” I agreed with a nod. I rushed through what I had to get done and got out of there in a hurry. It was seven PM and instead of taking the freeway I took the scenic route, it looks really nice driving through there around this time. At the exact halfway point home my car started getting very shaky on the passenger side so I pulled over to check to see if there was a problem. I had a flat tire, which wasn’t the part that got to me; it was that at the very moment when I opened my trunk to get the jack and spare tire out it started to downpour. The meteorologist specifically said no chance of rain today so I left my umbrella at the office. Here I am on a dark, secluded wooded road in the pouring rain at eight at night changing a flat tire. What a day. I got the tire on, got in my car soaking wet but didn’t care, I just wanted to get home, take a shower, do a load of laundry and have a drink. I turned on to the street my house is and turned the knob to my radio off, the clock read 8:52 and I could see my driveway and felt a sigh of relief, until I saw lights flashing through my rear view mirror, again. I pulled over immediately in case it was an ambulance or police officer on a call, but I realized it was a squad car and it was pulling behind me. I hit my steering wheel and yelled out, “ you got to be kidding me”. What could I possibly have been pulled over for? I saw a lady cop step out of the car and start to walk towards my window, when I recognized this lady cop; it was the same cop from this morning. Oh great. First thing she said with a smirk is license and registration please. I gave her my license and she already knew I didn’t have a valid registration, but she just wanted to hear me tell her again. She made me wait twenty minutes before she came back to my car, she handed me my license back and said I’m giving you a ticket tonight for a broken taillight. I couldn’t hold in my anger and I blurted out, “you have got to be fucking kidding me lady”. That caused her to lecture me for five minutes about how she doesn’t want to be here any more than I do and that she has to work all day and night because of the young officers calling in and blah blah blah. Then she had the nerve to say drive home safe, well aware of where I live. I put my seatbelt on, turned my car back on, turned my lights on and put my blinker on to turn right, drove one yard down and turned into my driveway. I didn’t even grab one item to bring into my home, I just wanted to get in there and relax. Walking on the path from the driveway to my front door I noticed that the lamp I usually leave on for the dog wasn’t on which I never turn off. That seems odd. I unlocked the front door and flickered the switch in the front hall up and down and nothing, it looks as if my power is out. I’m tired, annoyed and have to be up early for work tomorrow but have no clean work clothes and a washer that isn’t powered. I put a few items of clothing into a hamper and hopped back in my car to drive to the Laundromat down the street. The Laundromat was absolutely packed right now but I spotted one machine that was open so I quickly walked to it and started loading my clothes in. That is when time froze; a wind blew through the store with no open windows and my jaw dropped. The girl of my dreams, the girl I just fell in love with at first site, the girl I’m going to marry just walked by me and is washing her clothes on the machine right next to mine. I got a sudden rush to my heart and felt so nervous; I need to say something, but what? My twenty minute wash cycle went by and the machine made a buzzing sound to let me know it was done, I had to grab the clothes out of there and go to a dryer, leaving my perfect spot next to the most beautiful girl in the world. Forty minutes flew by as I sat alone pretending to read a magazine when really all I could do was think of different scenarios where I just walked up to her and swept her off her feet. I opened the dryer lid and realized I left my hamper by the washing machine; I turned to go get it and saw that she had left. She is not here anymore, now I wont have the chance to say the perfect thing to her. I just figured it goes with how the rest of my day has gone. I went to grab the hamper by the handle and spotted a piece of paper sitting at the bottom of it, I leaned in there and picked it up and opened the folded sheet up to read it. It read:
Hi!
Sorry I didn’t say anything to you in the Laundromat,
I really wanted to but I’m kind of shy.
Call me soon
414-545-5545
Signed: your secret admirer
I put my hands over my face, smiled and said to myself, “what a day”.
By: Joey LaPiana
Creases cemented in skin of ages,
bending forward ratcheting wrinkles
piled like a car crash, systemically dried
routing for moisture moguls, malfunctioned,
marked measures of time spelt skin attack,
pillowed ruts run deep, prolonging
their birthmark, plumping....out on a date
with new age spaces yet to be filled
Sarcasm streets, filching frowned brows
suns' stolen chastity, lifting out brown
messages spotted at random
grey mandarins, juiceless, bribing
to be heard, a manifesto hidden,
shrivelled prunes wallowing in dried skins
reaching out for the bottomless custard jug
