Consistency is thinning with the sun
Our minds crawl-
Yet  race on overdrive inside our homes and out in the damp streets.
Simple static,
A mental block of conscious
spread by word of mouth from one disaster to the ****** birth of another.
Another bag of bones,
Clanking over our shoulders-
With heavey arms to bare with
Another gust of wind full of ashes and crowds all dressed in black with their throats in knots.
The words inside our mouths burn as they leave
There is a kid with a guitar on the outskirts of it all.
Watching in as the faces drain from the bodies in the streets.

So he began to sing.
He sang about shades of grey
He sang about the spaces in between
And he sang about the heart that’s been thrown among one person’s beliefs to another’s lack of.
He strummed until the sky turned a shade of blue which resembled his mothers eyes on the night he learned what strength and will was.
As the wind hushed,
The crowd began a melancholy motion,
with their backs turned to all that was
Some with new sight and others in disbelieving disgust.
But one thing held constant-
though time had been tampered and irreversibly changed
They all hurt the same
Each mind had been scrambled like eggs

(C) Tiffanie Doro

My mother
now old
once long ago
put Miss Harper Valley PTA to shame

My mother
with a quick wit
and sharp tongue
built a reputation to keep her safe.

My mother
smoked ***
drank Blackberry Brandy
and raised three radicals alone when it just wasn't done.

My mother
looked for love
settled for security... but never for long
too high of a price.

My mother
devoured books
had an artists' soul
mixed with a black widows heart.

My mother
is trapped
between what she knows
and what she says.

My mother
is embarrassed, confused
and angry
refusing to yield as she always has.

My mother
needs me now
yet has too much pride
and doesn't want crude judgments.

My mother
taught me her best
(and worst) tricks
and I use them on her often.

My mother
is at the end of her life
keeping long promised answers
locked tightly inside her.

My mother
has never let anyone
understand her
but me.

I miss...
missing you
chasing you
wishing for you
to wish for me.

I miss...
excitedly telling you
who I am
and who I wish to be.

I miss...
not knowing
when I would see you
hold you
exhale your breath.

I love us now...
don't misunderstand...
but the anticipation
and the adventure
at times get over-powered
by the day.

I miss...
our breathless
creativity
and the almost violent need
to be close.