Perplexed and amazed… and maybe it’s my fault
Probably my fault even…
that it doesn’t appear  to occur to some folks
that there is even a possibility
that I am really NOT thinking about them…
or worrying why
Someone is crying or mad or why the ‘tude
Or if they are hungry or rested or had a fight
Or what they plan to do about their latest dilemma…
Hell… Today… I don’t even need to know the good news…  
Sometimes I've just got things on my mind…  
Like
Who’s gonna do my next pedicure… or
What will be the outcome of this next test… and
today is the anniversary of my mother’s last breath… or how
I wish he was here to kiss my neck… cuz
I do love the way he kisses my neck… and I
Wonder if there is any of that fried fish left…
Ya see…  today I just do not care
What’s going on in their world… cuz I choose... today...
To be about my world and the sound of my own heartbeat… and
I think that I plan to have more of these “about me days” and I don’t
give a **** who doesn’t get it… or feels put upon cuz
It shows that I’m disconnected…
Cuz everybody on this whole spinning rock is so into just themselves
and if I’m into you…  and you into you… then who's into me…?
and perhaps I’m breaking some cardinal rule
by determining at this late date to be
About my own personal thoughts… but I’ma build this mental wall
to protect them from intruders… cuz it is what it is…  and I don’t even feel like explaining that
Sometimes I’ve just got things on my mind…

Okay…
So…
my kids ain't all that regular
thats cuz my kids
didn’t get no regular mama
/ My kids got a / way making / hard working / kid feeding / plant growing  
/ source loving / puppy hugging / kitten saving / truth telling
/ baby kissing / spell casting / candle lighting / hymn singing / literature chewing
/ jambalaya cooking / *** kicking / loud laughing / soft hearted / hard drinking
/ powder digging / dream weaving / moon dancing / braid wearing /  barefooted
/ hippy of a poet-mama…
And I ain't sad that I’m peculiar…
cuz I’m the only me we got…

Though the date may be late… and
Those type things don’t happen anymore…MUCH…dare I say

Those type things don’t happen MUCH anymore… (yes I dared)
It is nevertheless ingrained…

No matter the age or the date
However young or old…
It is in our DNA… and
Our DNA does not forget
Will not allow us
As other cultures will
To easily enjoy
The remote loveliness… and
Maniacally flowering greenery… and
Beauteous quiet of this
Southern forest… this
Confederate lake…  
Without our spirits
Sadly counting
The cumulative number of
Hundreds of years of
Fertilization by
Black Men’s bones…

But like my father and his father before him
We show up anyway…
Albeit somewhat uneasily…
While the native good-ole-boys
Stand stock still and stare
Actin’ like they never seen one’a us before… and
Though we arrived obviously prepared for what we came to do
They still stare… as if
wondering what we could possibly be doing here…
or maybe… how dare we enjoy God’s green earth with our brown selfs…

And my beautiful Black Man
with ease of motion
Audaciously pays the Black Tax
(the quoted price over what the sign says the price is)
As I bait my line in defiance
Albeit somewhat uneasily… and
Cast it out into this confederate lake

And my beautiful Black Man
Also stands… broad shoulders back… and
Pointedly does not acknowledge the presence of the natives
As they stand stock still and stare
But it is there
(We will NOT be afraid… and we will NOT go away)
Unspoken between us... But
Always in the back of the mind…
The recesses of the consciousness…
Preparation for this day… and the worst that it can bring…
Is ingrained…

I mourned the loss of US that died suddenly...
Lowered the flag to half mast
Rent my clothes
Donned sack cloth and ashes
Covered the mirrors with black satin… and
Lovingly prepared green bean casserole and pound cake
Gifted  it to and comforted and assured
myself… that
everything’s gonna be alright…
Offered to myself
Condolences
Which I graciously accepted
yes…
US will be missed
yes…
US was so nice
No…
I didn’t even know that US was sick… and
I mourn US that died suddenly
But not for too long…
After a respectable period of time
****** the satin off of my mirrors
To better see me twirl in my hot red dress
After I lean in… and kiss myself
Throw the green bean casserole out… cuz I hate it
Eat all the pound cake… cuz I love it
Laugh out loud… cuz I am
Comforted and assured… that
Everything’s gonna be alright… and then
…Raise and Let My Free Flag Fly!

Without effort… not even trying… I used to see poems everywhere…

While sitting in my yard of a summer eve… there were poems in the sway of trees… and in the flight of the hummingbird… and in mother cat and her babies … and little girls holding intense conversations… and kids chasing dogs and dogs chasing kids… and little boys ***** from a hard day's play big-eyed and determined to talk to me…

poems… everywhere…

While standing on the bus stop in the hood… there were poems in the kitchen smells calling to me from each little house… and in the swagger of them in training talking loud and testing the waters of manhood… and in the tired face of the tired old woman who should mostly likely have been retired just trying to make it home one plodding step at a time…

poems… everywhere…

Then too much death and illness and suffering… clogged my flow…

So…

I had to make a conscious effort…  to SEE again.. so that I wouldn’t die myself… of obstruction of the expression gate… or collapse from a deficiency of thought originality… or succumb to an overdose of banality… or break down under the weight of too much…ORDINARY

It was hard… but it had to be done… and a poet like me does not give in… a poet like me
can’t help but SEE… eventually…so I looked and I looked…  with an eye toward the esoteric… an eye toward the eclectic… and the beauty... and the color… and it’s working… I’m getting there… I’m getting there… I’m starting to see… though while not… EVERYWHERE… I once again thank The Creator who flows through me that… I do see …

poems ALMOST everywhere…

You watch too much tv…

I am not what you see.. on

cop dramas…Or

reality shows…or even… at this point...

B E T

I don’t use

“is” in inappropriate places

Nor do I finish sentences with prepositional phrases

Such as “who you is?” or “Where my coat at?”

I don’t do elaborate handshakes

I don’t work my neck

I don’t purse my lips… constantly sneer… or

“go off” at the drop of a hat

I do walk with quiet dignity… and

Shake off your devilish ways with God given grace

I do have a life… a peaceful “unbroken” place to go home to

Hence the serenity that you see on my face

Leaving you nonplussed-

That I have no desire to be you… and

You find yourself… trying to bond by

Putting the word “be”

Where no “be” should be… cuz you’re

Trying too hard to understand me…

And I

Wear this faint professional smile.. though my eyes do not

Which (as an aside) you don’t even see

Use all of my vowels and consonants

Never acknowledge any flirtatious compliments

As I render unto Caesar what Caesar’s should be… and

Escape to my loves…And

read something… or

grow something… or

learn something…

Now that’s the me that I don’t mind if you see… but

You’re not interested in THAT reality… cuz

It would wreck your notions preconceived…

So I've concluded... by your manners… or the lack thereof… that

You obviously just watch too much tv



.

What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…

Is not to be confused with

Flavor…

Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…

No…

What I seem to have misplaced is

My Flava

Spelled F-L-A-V-A

And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…

Not to be confused with any other FLAVA

Cuz it is mine…

And without it…

Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…

As from this springs my issue… and

Without my issue… just don’t know…

Whether to rhyme or to flow…

Wax melodic or staccato…

Iambic pentameter to coax you to

Come with / me and / and be / my love…No- wait...

That’s not it at all-

Have no need of

You being my love… or loving my being…

Which is where FLAVA comes in…

Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****…

Flava just is…

Unlike consciousness…

Or the awareness of one’s own

Existence…that just wants not to be a

Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…

Who were (by the way) dead long before they

Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility

Of laying the hell down…

But FLAVA…

FLAVA cannot die… so

I know it’s there… it’s just…

Hiding subliminally…

Under some old debris…

Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and

When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR

(not to be confused with FLAVA)

…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER

…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and

Stir and season…

‘til it feels like ME again…

One of a kind FLAVA…

Gifted to me only…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…

Gotta get back to me…

.

What I cannot find… but am determined… to get back to…

Is not to be confused with

Flavor…

Like hot sauce or vanilla… which can be found at any market…

No…

What I seem to have misplaced is

My Flava

Spelled F-L-A-V-A

And is one of a kind… gifted to me only…

Not to be confused with any other FLAVA

Cuz it is mine…

And without it…

Can barely string a sentence together… and am lost…

As from this springs my issue… and

Without my issue… just don’t know…

Whether to rhyme or to flow…

Wax melodic or staccato…

Iambic pentameter to coax you to

Come with / me and / and be / my love…No- wait...

That’s not it at all-

Have no need of

You being my love… or loving my being…

Which is where FLAVA comes in…

Cuz FLAVA don’t give a ****…

Flava just is…

Unlike consciousness…

Or the awareness of one’s own

Existence…that just wants not to be a

Casualty… and die with the other dead ones…

Who were (by the way) dead long before they

Resigned themselves to undertake the responsibility

Of laying the hell down…

But FLAVA…

FLAVA cannot die… so

I know it’s there… it’s just…

Hiding subliminally…

Under some old debris…

Beneath the ruins of what used to be me…and

When I find it…will then add some FLAVOR

(not to be confused with FLAVA)

…sprinkle some Cayenne Pepper… make it even HOTTER

…fold in some Cinnamon… make it even SEXIER… and

Continue to season…

‘til it feels like ME again…

One of a kind FLAVA…

Gifted to me only…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is mine…

Gotta get back to it… Cuz it is me…

Gotta get back to me…

.

Don’t want to reach up

To that dusty shelf

In the locked closet of my mind

And pull it all out

Blow it off

look at it and analyze

figure out the hows and whys

Hell no

I won’t go

Don’t shrink my head…



Don’t want my head shrunk

Leave it big like it is

Let the mess stay

repressed

Or if one prefers…

suppressed

Better left un-

expressed

Maybe I’ll be

depressed

but oh well…

Time will tell…

Don’t shrink my head

For the last few months
At least twice a week
It was…
I gotta go do this for him
I needta go and cook for him
I needta call him…
Then life got in the way

Now he’s gone… the way of
So many others before him… and
As the years go by there are more of them
We look at all the Slides… and
Pics and videos
And laugh or cry…
Long for days gone by
Enough to make me shake my head
And say…

If I had to do it all again
I would do things differently
I would live life… always…
On purpose… cuz
Not one second is promised
No time to waste
Give every thing
To every day…

If that still small voice says
Cook for them or hug them
I will fry up whatever the hell there is…
Wrap my arms around them
Say "I love you" if I love them…
No time…
To be too busy
Or too angry or too prideful
Or too sleepy… I can sleep when I’m dead
When they’ll be putting ME away…

But until then… and
While I’m vertical…
With
No chance to do it over…
No chance to do it all again…
I pound my fist on the table…
With the other over this bruised heart… and
Make this vow today…

Going forward I WILL do things differently
I will live life… always…
On Purpose… cuz
Not one second is promised
Can’t let these fleeting moments get away
Don’t wait until later…or tomorrow…
Yesterday’s tomorrow… is today…

I left you today…

It’s over…

I’m DONE!

MOVED OUT!

In a spring shower’s end

on foot…

Walkin’ Hard and Fast

Down a dampened street

(Workin’ my neck even…)

Lookin’ crazy…

Talkin’ to myself… bout **** I don’t hafta take

Out loud

(Low down and SELFISH!)

I can FIND me somebody ELSE to drive me cross country to see my mama

(I can’t STAND him!)

I can FIND me somebody ELSE to help me take down my weave

(Makes me SICK…!)

I can FIND me somebody ELSE

To rub lotion on my back… and

To sing me silly songs… and

To make love to me… and

To rub my feet

To rub my feet

Somebody else to rub my feet… like you do…

And…  I will too…

I will…

Just right now…

My feet do ache a little… and

I need to show you

This new umbrella I bought

Busy people…
Oh so busy people….
You step real hard when you walk real fast
With your busy scowls on your busy faces
Making busy wrinkles in your busy forehead
From thinking all those
Wondrous… and
Special…
Busy thoughts…

**** sho too busy to
Make small talk… or
Ask about… or
Even be pleasant to
Us regular people…
Oh so busy…
Would make an old man wait for 6 hours
For the answer to a 5 minute question…

Cuz you busy…

Too busy to even answer the phone
Especially…  If you know who’s callin’…
Sho too busy…Way too busy…
To answer
For the likes of me… or even him… cuz
That’s not what you busy people do…
We should all
Just be happy
To have your
Wondrous… and
Special… and
Busy self
To be
Ignored by

But Oh Mr. Busy…
One day…
Mayhap…
You will look up from your busy-ness… and
Find that there are
No more some bodies
To step past real hard… or
To dismiss… as unimportant
With your busy scowl and busy wrinkled forehead
No more callers
To  ignore… or un-pleasantries to share
Cuz you,  yourself,  have gotten
Unpleasantly old
And every body else

Is just too busy…

It appears that I am now
At that age…

The age at which
The older folks of my youth
Shook their heads and talked softly together and
Pat-hugged each other and held hands with sad eyes... and
From the corner of my young ear
Without full comprehension or understanding~
“If there is anything I can do…”
Or
“I’m so sorry for your loss…”
Or
“Bless your heart…”

Then time got away … and
Here we are… and
Somehow surprised to be…

At the age at which
Every other body’s
Mom or Dad or Parents
Are merely needful
Or dying
Or dead… and
We are now the
Caregivers… or
Caretakers… whether
Primary or In Addition To…
Enthusiastically or Reluctantly… it is now
Our turn…
With
Every other body
To shake our heads and talk softly together and
Pat-hug each other and hold hands with sad direct eyes and
Complete and Profound understanding~
“If there is anything I can do…”
Or
“I’m so sorry for your loss…”
Or
“Bless your heart…”

For sadly
We are now
At
That Age

Days gone by… by this point…  I’da been
Toasted
Buttered
Three Sheets To The Wind
Toe’ –up from the flo’- up
and
Highly Intoxicated
But that was then and this is now…
NOW… I don’t smoke… I don’t drink… and I don’t get high
Not no more…
BUT I DO COOK!!  And loooove my own good cooking!!
AND I DO EAT!! And loooove that too!!
With that said... here is my confession...

on the day my mother died… I consumed…
2 deep fried chicken sandwiches… a Hostess Ding ****… a Snicker Bar
And enough Apple Jacks to need an intervention and a visit to A.J.A.
Apple Jack Anonymous

So today... I repent... Say 3 Hail Mary's... and eat a salad...

A ***** deserves respect
When she can break you down
To her level
Whether you want to go
Or not
When just the PROMISE of her arrival
Shakes one to the core
And when in the REALITY of her arrival
One is faced with but two choices-
UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER… or
A FIGHT TO THE DEATH
She’s so bad… That...
She can decimate an entire family… One by one…
Or show up where she is least expected… in a surprise attack…
And I do not like her… And she don’t RUN things here… but
She IS given respect…In that
This low-down cruel ***** will
make a believer out of the hardest man
make your life... and the lives of your loved ones
revolve solely around her
make you break your bank
make you drive miles and miles
for unproven remedies… and
experimental relief
make you try ANYTHING
from crystal necklaces to copper bracelets...
to banish her evil self... and
I DO NOT LIKE HER…
but whether I like her or not...
she DOES command a ******-up sort of
respect
So I always capitalize the C in Cancer... cuz
She is my enemy… and
One should never
underestimate
the enemy

It’s complicated…


And comes in

Varying shades of gray…


Up the scale

To sweaty FUSCHIA

Or down the scale

To dismal BLACK


Let it be

What it be…

Because

It is…

What it is…


Don’t overthink it

Don’t micro analyze it… or

Make excuses for it… or

For the lack of it…

Because…


It’s complicated

Love is…


And comes in

Varying shades of gray

With regard to this grieving process…
how is this supposed work…?
is it okay to be sad for me…
but happy for her…
cuz Cancer
(with a capital “C”  
outta respect)
is a low-down cruel *****…
But she gave that low-down cruel *****…
A run for her money…
A hellava fight…
And now her race is run…
And it’s a win/win …
Or maybe it’s a no brainer…
And I’m sure that there is at least one more cliché that I can use here
But **** it…
It’ll  hafta come to me later…
Cuz my skin itches…
and I keep looking over my shoulder…
feeling as if someone is there…

When, how or where we are born
Matters in which we have no choice… and
Dying is something we do
All alone…
At the appointed time...

In the when and the why of the thing,
We may or may not
Have a voice

But it is these
Hard and Wonder-full
Seconds… Minutes… Hours… Days…
Between
The moment we’re born
And
The moment we die
This accumulation of lessons and experiences
Known as
Life

These are the moments
To make a difference!
To share smiles and tears
To halve our worries
To help shoulder our loads
To make lighter
The Moments of Strife

Don’t give me flowers
When I am dead
Give me my flowers
Now

And don’t be heart-broken
When I leave
If in your heart
When I arrive
There is no smile

Don’t “fall out” or swoon... or
Hug my casket and wail
Rent your clothes... and with ash,
Your head,
Anoint

Because
If you have the chance to be loving
Right now
But do not…

Could be supportive
Right now
But choose to not…

Beloved
You’re missing the point...

I’ve got nothing but love
And will love just as much
And for just as long
As allowed…

So don’t give me flowers when I am dead
Give me my flowers
Now

It seems that after
Thousands
Of words
Hundreds of thousands
Of expressions
My fount has
Finally
Dried up
Maybe it’s hormonal…
(cuz this happens)
Or
Maybe I’m depressed… and
Need some ice-cream
(cuz ice-cream always makes things better)
But
I just don’t feel like writing anything at all…
No thing inspires me
To expound upon it
Can’t even seem to write
A bad poem
Unless I count this one
And I don’t
But I do admit
It is bad
So I will re-start
This bad non-poem
And not talk about
Hormones or depression or ice-cream
(even tho ice-cream always makes things better)
I’ll not expound upon
How I am un-inspired
To ever again
Wax poetic…
But will instead merely query~
Has my fount
Truly
Dried up?

Some time ago.. I decided
To not allow
Your problems
To be
My problems
You gon hafta pull that wagon by yourself…

Hell… my own load is heavy… sometimes real heavy…
And I just can’t pull yours and mine too… though I do sometimes try…

But I’ve found that when I try… for too long…
I start to droppin’ stuff… and then I feel bad…If it’s your stuff…
And I feel worse... if it’s my stuff…
Then it’s not just heavy…
But it’s heavy and dropped stuff… and

I’m scramblin’
Tryin' to make sense of it all… or fix it… or patch it... or clean it up… and
It’s affectin' me… and my head aches… and my stomach hurts… and
I’m wonderin’… why…? and
I’m countin’… how long…? and
I’m wishin’ somebody would come along… to help me…
To pull this load…
Until finally…
It came to me…

I need not allow
Your problems
To be
My problems
You gon hafta pull that wagon by yourself…

There are elevated thick spots
Directly beneath the finger next to the pinky…
From my share… and on occasion
Other folk’s shares of
Hard work… and
I don’t mind…
These aged hands… that
Once gestured prettily to
Wave away a swoon… or
Disperse the heat… or
Point a direction… or
Pat him on his chest while
Girlishly giggling “boy you so craaazy…”
Now with their
Raised and rugged veins… a
Narrative of my life… like
My Mother’s hands… and
My Mother’s Mother’s hands… and
I don’t mind these aged hands… that have
Patted the babies… and
Held faces to kiss away tears… and
Spanked some tail so the police would never have to…
No-  I don’t mind…
These hands that have
Stroked… and
Rubbed… and
Massaged…and
scrubbed… are now
No longer so pretty…
No longer so dainty…  but like
My Mother’s hands… and
My Mother’s Mother’s hands…
Each line is a tale of it’s own… and
Every ache an account of the past… and
Every callous a memoir… and
I have lived a love filled life… and
The years have given so much to these aged hands …so
I don’t mind…

I don’t pretend to understand

your reasoning or reasons for un-embracing

Leaving broken and unsure and having to learn

the hard way

how to do it…

I don’t pretend to comprehend your

outspoken pride

in my enlightenment

as to the true nature of aloneness- of alone defined;

abandoned; forsaken; deserted; solo…

but I learned dear mother…

A minnow… in an ocean of sharks…

I learned…

Without your guidance or assistance in any way…

To survive

To walk like a woman

To spot evil

To spot evil

To spot evil

I almost didn’t live through that one

But I lived dear mother…

Without your aid or comfort in any way…

I lived…

My heart kept beating… sometimes to my chagrin and dismay

I awoke every **** morning and began each day with

Anger and distrust comfortably in place...

Until after way too many years

I realized…

Just because you gave me life

Does not mean that you owe me anything more…

Maybe in some nice holiday story or on the hallmark channel

Do loved ones actually love each other

But not in our reality dear mother

Not in our reality…

So I load my clothes and my spirit

some fried chicken and my beloved

(yes dear mother… the universe has given me true love)

into our all-terrain vehicle

and prepare to make this thousand mile trek to your beside…

still pained… but even now

the dutiful daughter

even now…

as you die…

What lessons will I learn from this dear mother…?

Without your disdain or hindrance in any way

What lessons will I learn…?

I want to leave something
When I die
To show that I was here
Of course I’ve got young people
And my sweet lover
And various keepsakes
That I hold dear
But
This bequest must be
Of poetic design
As melodious as my spirit
As lyrical as my mind
Buried like hidden treasure
For future word finders to find
Small portions of me
To know me by
Left behind
To discover
After I die

Always "THIISSSS close"

"Missed it by THAT much"

"If it hadda been a snake-    I wudda been bit"

Oh so tired of "AALLMOST  made it"

Missin' it "by a hair"...

That I must ALWAYS miss the mark-   needta know where it's been writ

Don’t mind if God’s just testing me, with that I have no quarrel

Just begta know when, this test, I'll finally pass...

Cuz

Always gittin' THIISSS  close

And

Missin' it by THAT  much

Is really REALLY startin' ta

Chap my ***

…i have learned my lesson / One should not give the impression / of being too happy / as you don’t do

happy / you and angry / are comfortable / misery / your longtime friend / but with happy / you are

unacquainted / and / too much joviality / for too long a period / puts the proverbial underpants in a bunch /

too much free-range fondling / and unnecessary emotion / is a commotion / that puts the Neanderthal in

you / into uncharted territory / off the clear and obvious path / with a virtual stick / banging the bushes of

my spirit / waiting to see what emerges / and surprisingly / you are surprised / that what emerges is /

seldom what you expect / but what do you expect? / That i will continually ride this / histrionic

rollercoaster? / apprehensively peaking hills? / uncertainly braving valleys? / stop the maniacal ups and

downs i think i want to get off / on you / and with you / but that just wont do / cuz you / fail to realize /

that I am / percolating and oozing / straight inundated with / sweetness / and to get the full overflow / of

said sweetness / is a privilege… / and not a right… / therefore / to the benefit of no one / and as a

consequence of your / vacillation and inconstancy / i have made the determination / to Cap this most

fundamental Well / sadly / i have learned my lesson…

I’m trying to have a

Pity Party…

But people just won’t leave me alone…

I’ve got all the necessary accoutrement...

A bottle of Richard’s Wild Irish Rose...

Flannel Pajamas with oddly shaped holes

In all the wrong places...

A proper toothache ensuring my face is

Properly lumpy…

Worked ******* this body now properly bumpy

From too much soul food

That is... Food For The Soul

Such as

Pizza… and

Pudding…and

Tater Chips and Dips… and

Coco Puffs by the large serving bowl...

Donuts

And the holes to go with them...

Lifetime Channel already tuned in...

Blinds pulled down...

Unplugged my phone…

But these people!

They just won’t leave me alone!

Being all supportive and huggy and lovey and clean-y

I don’t see…

Why they don’t see…

That now is just not the time…

They need to get on out’a here

And let me drink my wine… cuz

I’m trying to have

A Pity Party!

But I swear they just won’t leave me alone…

NOW HEAR THIS!

NOW HEAR THIS!


Would

All

Pity

Party

Poopers

Please

Just Go Home!

Raindrops on glass and

Rumbling thunder

Lazy,

**** days

Snuggling up under

Cover…

Naked with you lover…

Butter *** pound cakes

With pecan ice creams

Whispering naughty wishes

And

Sharing the nice dreams

That only comfortable lovers share…

While

Storms end’s drip...and

Roll from eaves

We listen to drops

Falling from trees...and

Throw back the shutters

Hug the sun

Touch the breeze

Feel the spring

Smell the love in the air...

Funny how it works out…
That the way to keep
Loving you
Is to
Love you less…
Withdraw…
Back up…
Reel in
My emotions… cuz
With unmet expectations
Comes pain…and

I don’t do pain…

Funny…
How I’ve found
That to stay
Requires
A spiritual
Lessening…

No more
Laying open of the core of

Me… for you to peruse
At your leisure…
No more
Early morning lips
Down your spine
From between those
Fabulous shoulders
To the patch of hair above
My favorite place…
These intimacies
Just too much
To bear…

Funny…
That the idea of
No more
Secret smiles… and
No more
Private jokes… and
No more
Sssexy
Oh so
Sssslow Drags
To
No external music… just
The dizzying smell of you…

Is really not
All that
Funny…

How did I get to this place?
Desperately ask myself
As under the quilt in my lap
I point a 38 at
The man that I
Once thought was
The One-
That I don't take his life
Can only be
Grace
Shining on ME
Cuz my heart suddenly knows
It is not worth my soul
To hurry him
On his relentless journey to hell-
He will surely get there on his own
It is Grace
That saves us BOTH this day
Grace that he won't miss until it's gone
~~~
The old man across the street
Talks to his old wife
Like she's got bird ****
Smeared across her face-
I'm sure it didn't start out this way
I'm sure that once upon a day
She was shown a modicum of loving kindness
A sweetness commensurate with the Grace
With which she
Used to
Walk
But now with which she
Bears the never ending insult
That her life has become
Grace that the old man
Does not appreciate
Grace that he won't miss until it's gone
~~~
She leaves her baby in the car
While she steps into the bar
For just a minute-
Time not only flies
When you're having fun
But also when addiction lies
And sez you are-
So baby-girl
Waits
But it is Grace
That sends mom outside to *****
At the very moment
Mr. Predator
Spies’ baby-girl alone
It is Grace that mom won't, in her haze, even notice
Grace that she won't miss until it's gone
~~~
This old world can be a cold dark place
Would be darker still
Were it not for Grace
Someone once said
"T'was Grace that brought me safe and through..."
~~~
For all the Lovely and the Good
There will be the Ugly and the Evil
But Ugly and Evil
Can NEVER do more
Than
Amazing Grace
Can do

Just wonderin’… if surrounded… as you are… by the ramblins… of visitors… and the offerins… of hangers-on… and the jokes… of the wanna-be-funny… and the excitement… of your beloved basketball… and the rowdy…  of your down-and-***** football… even tennis… when it’s Venus… and her earthy growls…  and ya girl Serena… with her thigh-strainin’ swing… hell… even hockey… if that’s all there is... playin’ in the background… mixin’ just fine… with children laughin'… and he still flirtin’… after all these years… talkin’ a little *****… after all this water… under the bridge… makin’ you smile… coaxin’ you to…  hang in there baby… to take…  just one more bite… to take…  just one more sip… to smile…  just one more time… I’m just wonderin’… how are you gonna do… when they put you in that place… for sick people… with no loud children… no beloved husband… no bad jokes… no fried chicken in the air… no sports commentators… no big band drums… no somebody screamin’ TOUCHDOWN… for you to… if only for a few precious minutes… wake up to… how are you gonna do…in all of that silence…?

One day
My children will
Stop by
On their way
To somewhere else…

To
Kiss their old mama
See what I need
Fuss at me
For not eatin’ right… or
Stayin'
Out or Up
Too late…

If
By chance
I don’t open the door
Cuz I’m busy
With
A Good Smelling Man… and
Aretha Frankin

Sippin’ wine …And
Smokin’ Cigarillos…

They will blow up my phone…
And be all upset... Reprimandin’
My old self
When I finally answer
Speech softly slurred

(Aretha... moanin’ in the background)

Cuz I didn’t check in
In a timely manner...

Makin’ folks worry…

I will simply smile the learned smile
Of tried and tested mothers …
And have
A little more wine…
And
A little more Aretha…
And
A little more good smellin’ man…
One day…

Promises to myself …
This is the last time...
Walk as far away as my will
Will take me
But the ****
Like Bell
Has long distance capability
Turn off my ear
But
My Jones
Like the Postman
Rain Snow Sleet or Hail
Always gets through
Making me do
Things I said
I would not do
In places I said
I would not go
And I know
That I’m wrong...
Too got-dam old
For this foolishness… and
Getting older by
The sack… or
The line… or
The bump… and
I promise myself
I’m gon stop…
This is the last time… and
I mean it this time
Just like I mean it
Every time
Until the
Next time
But before I know...
Today’s perfect drain
Eases yesterday’s pain
And my heart is racing
To beat
The hair now standing
On the
Back of my neck
To the top of my head...

And everything is okay…
All is well…
With the whole ****** world…

On through the night... and
Well into
Day
With a
Kamikaze Nose-Dive Crash
Into reality
And I hate me again… and make
Promises to myself…
This is the last time...
Walk as far away as my will
Will take me
But the ****
Like Bell
Has long distance capability
Turn off my ear
But my Jones…




Come Too Far To Turn Back Now
Carla Marie 2011

Black Texas dirt
With Grandfather Trees
That the sun shines through
In dust moted streaks…and
Ponds and Creeks
That
I use stones
To cross with
Big
Sometimes slippery
Gray stones…
Covered in moss… with
Bluebonnets
Sharing space with frogs
And trailing ivy
And bee hives in logs
And butterflies
That flutter by
And vie
For attention
With hungry hummingbirds
And COUNTRY Mockingbirds
That can’t DO
Car alarm…

Perhaps a summer cabin
Or even
Working farm
House
With wrap-around porch
Flanked by Four O’Clocks
Shielded by Climbing Roses
Guarded by Morning Glories
Shading two big dogs
With cold wet noses
Pressed to my face
That wake me
And shake me
Back to this reality…
Which is oh so far from
My mind’s dream place
And I’m somewhat dismayed…
But it’s still okay…
Cuz there’s
Nothing wrong with dreaming…
Nothing wrong with dreaming…

I talk to myself

I talk to myself and that’s okay cuz

I like myself

I know what to expect from myself

I’m never ever rude to myself

Or even a little bit sarcastic with myself

I have been known to deceive myself

And do occasionally surprise myself

Though I can usually predict

What’s going to happen with myself

Every now and again I let myself

Down

But that’s to be expected as myself

Is only human

So when it is necessary

To get a grip on myself

I set aside

A little time

To

Talk to myself




...To The Things That I've Learned Along The Way
Carla Marie 2011

Blanket of diva fireflies… celebration of Summer Dusk… silently

dancing… their flashy dance… syncopated rhythm… six inches

above… the bobbing heads… of too tall grass… twinkling… twirling...

ebbing… flowing… ‘til Mr. Moon shows up… and tries to wreck this party...

but it ain’t over… cuz the crickets… always in the mood to

jam… bust out with that sweet percussion… while... cicadas come in

softly… then crest... then moan... those serious background

vocals… the alley cats howl a funky refrain… and the night owls

work the chorus…

seducing me to join…

but…

since I’m…

not flashy… not rhythmic… can’t howl… and don’t moan…


I just bring some sweet tea… lie in the too tall grass…

and enjoy the show...



Come Too Far To Turn Back Now
Carla Marie 2012

in the darkest hour, after the day is done, TV’s are off, and the melody of

our house has settled to the muted percussion of ticks and creaks... and

again sometimes when the night is fading but the clocks have yet to

chime the new day...

he whispers a song to me...

warm and fuzzy, eyes still closed, i surface to sweet and funky exhalation

just above the ear curve...

softly whisper-singing... almost to himself...

“And I feel fine anytime she's around me now
She's around me now
Just about all the time
And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now
She's been with me now quite a long, long time
And I feel fine…”

snuggle deeper... inhale the sweet funky aroma of his breathy song…

and I feel fine too…

I’m on my way… to my own personal… on the inside…
Celebration… ya know?
Cuz I realized… I already did the tuffest jobs I’ll ever do…
I done raised my kids…
loved my loves…
bumped my head…
learned my lessons…
fought my fights…
forgiven my foes…
and finally…finally…
forgiven…
my… self..

And I’ve come far…
A long loooong way…
But I know I still got a long way to go…
So
I just might get me a push-up bra…
and a low-cut blouse…
And maybe a weave… and some New Journey shoes…
For my new journey.. some new high heels will
Certainly do…
Heels high enuf to make my
Thighs stand out… and
My ankle turn just so... and
My Hips sway when I step… and
My skirt tail snap when I pass… and
When I pass…
I’ma give a little look over my shoulder… like this…

So you can see…
That I saw you see me…

But I’m just gon give a LITTLE look
Cuz I can’t look BACK
For TOO long!
See, I might be tempted to TURN back…
An try to
re-do somethin’… or
explain somethin’... or
fix somethin’… or
cry over somethin’…

And I’ve just plain come too far!!!
Baby… I’ve
Come too far to turn back now…
And still got a long long way to go…


Come Too Far To Turn Back Now
Carla Marie 2012

How disconcerting…


Brace for a fight

Lace up the gloves

Vaseline the soft spots

Turn corners on two wheels

Arrive and

Kick in the doors

To find that

The Enemy

Is no longer in existence

Already vanquished

By an even greater enemy

Leaving in its wake

A pitiable thing

Arousing in a decent soul

Compassion…and

Prayers...


For one’s self--

Strength

And for the other--

Mercy…


Nothing honorably left to do

BUT pray

For one ’s self---

Only that God notices

This quiet sacrifice

Cuz there will be no

Forgive-me’s… or

Thank-you’s…or

I-love-you’s… or even

Closure

When one unlaces the gloves

Washes the face

Rolls up the sleeves

And returns

For cruelty

Compassion

For ill will

Tenderness

For Indifference

Clemency

And for Unkindness

Humanity…


And pray

For the other---

Only

Mercy…

Have Mercy…

Have Mercy Lord…

I avert my eye

To give a man his privacy and his pride

To not see you cry for her

Deep and heartbreaking

Chest rumbling sobs that

Vibrate the bones… and

Steal the breath…



And make a note to self…



You were the children of best friends together...

To become lovers when you noticed each other with lover’s eyes

You were the children of farmer’s together…

To become rich… only to forget to be camels… and

Get through the eye of a needle together… so

I avert my eye

To give a man his privacy and his pride



To not see you

Desperately in love... and

Frantically desperate

In her final agonizing days

To make up for lost time…

To find the breadcrumbs

That will lead you back home…

To find the path

That you strayed from…

To find it again… too late



I avert my eye

And make a note to self