I hear it
half in the bag of blankets
with an empty glass of wine
dumped
Between--
the furnace rumbling on
and the cat purring on my lap

"What the hell!"

That foreign sound!--

...of water in the winter
Far too cold for rain
more like a forest stream's refrain
I start to think of birds-- Then it occurs

I have a problem in the basement

Wading into the waters of Lake Laundry
Glancing warily for those snakes of wires
suspended from their rafter's limbs
about to spit and snag me
with their lightning strike

Slamming that ****
to make it go--
away--

Defeat
dripping off
jeans and unders
A clothes line pinned
with curses

Ah yes.
The smell of the Tide ...
going out
on another day

Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
You great scarlet bird.

You hop along my porch rail
But you don't say a word.

Defiant
So Defiant
Of nature's camouflage.

There is no way to hide
Your bright red entourage.

Orange
Bright Orange.
Your sharp pointy beak.

Gathers the worms and the seeds
All the meals that you seek.

Feed
Feed her.
This mate that you court.

Such a noble young man
You dance and cavort.

Sing
Sing sweet
You and your friends

I'll love your songs every morning
'Til winter comes 'round again.

Babies
Your babies
I'll meet them come next year.

When in the Fall, they'll alight on my porch
And bring my morning's cheer.

Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
I'm so glad you're here, you see.

I knew your parents and now you have come
Singing just for me.

Do not mistake
kindness
for weakness,

cause it takes
strength
to fight this
anger,
to resist
the fury
that persists
as I watch
wicked men
go one waging
a war against the truth,

as I watch
woman
reward
*******,
those
elite
alpha
monkeys,
with a love
that is
rejected
and abused.

It takes
a determination
most do not have
to maintain
compassion
as pain reigns
in the open veins
of bully’s victims.

It takes will power
to smile and be polite
when violence
racism, and sexism
run rampant.

Sometimes,
it takes all I have
to swallow the bad
and work small acts
of compassion
into my day.

"You'll be fine," They told me.
"It'll be okay," They said.
But did they hear the words they called me?
Did they hear the things they said?

Have they lived a life of torture?
Perhaps they've felt deranged?
Have they gone and hid in the corner
wanting desperately to change?

I am nothing
but negative space
that can easily
be replaced
or erased.

I am a body
that cannot escape
my man made
manacles.

I am shackled
to a dying breath,
to flesh bereft
of sacred meaning.

I am swimming
in a soft oily sea
of ****** candy
that either drowns
or infects me
with cavities
and stinky
seaweed.

I am a crumpled lotus
before you notice,
before I allow
you to know this
poetic truth,
as death subdues
all that I ever was.

Nothing is scarier
then the quiet,

the depths
in which
we buried her,

a house leveled
for destruction,

a mind made
for feats
of masterly
reflection,

but the silence
brings
a sleek streak
of greasy grief.

So, we seek
relief
in a cacophony
of stimuli
facebook,
youtube.

Mind unglued
and brought to
a state of
passive chaos.

Until, the next time
when solitude
dissolves into
a pernicious flea
that is nibbling
on me
leaving
daily droppings,
of filth and doubt.

I listened to my inner voice....
When I was filled with fear, when I learned at a young age that real monsters do exist and they are not like the ones in any story book I ever read. The monsters stole away any normal childhood that I could of or should of had.  Pain muted my words from flowing and poisoned my thoughts into growing... this is why I trusted no one.  
At the time I had no other choice... when I was
really the only friend I could totally depend on and count on
I listened to my inner voice...


I listened to my heart...
When all I could hear was a pounding in my ears, when all around me was like a crazy chaotic whirlwind screeching like a barred owl that would then break apart into tiny pieces and sink into a cold abyss forgotten by the sea.  I couldn’t forget the grief as it was real and still inside me. There was a brokenness about me my
heart was fragile and it balanced on the tip of my own desperation
but still I listened to my heart...
          
I listened to the words...
Slowly but surely I was able to come out from that darkened sea and was finally able to try and heal me. Words became my saving grace. I learned to not have muted lips and could give myself a fighting chance. I was able to tear down some of those protective walls to try again to live only in this moment without the armor and the hesitation. Writing became my new love... together we became an inseparable piece of one existence...
I felt so much better after I listened to the words ....

It is a rough winter,
and I worry;
Not for me,
cause there is no need
to hurry,
but for the tall thin
black homeless man
who sleeps on
the strip mall
sidewalk
next to his bike
and black
plastic
bags of stuff.

These are
biting temperatures,
artic cold
and I know
many have froze
in the past.
I fear this
winter weather
will claim
the strange man’s
exposed skin
and limbs
while he is sleeping.

But in keeping
with my tight schedule,
a full day
of driving,
exercising,
then working
and driving again,
I do not bother him.
I do not talk
to the rail thin
brown skin
man who is sleeping
on the sidewalks tonight.
I just selfishly follow
the patterns of my life,
only pausing in retrospect
to write a small poem
that doesn’t help
the homeless man
who might
freeze to death
tonight.