i clench my fist hoping i've grabbed the last inch of air i could put behind my broken jaw

breathe in, breathe out

my mind attacks my memory like it's a world war with no allies

breathe in, breathe out

i remember you
i remember you?
since i was 8 i've tried to play God
and ended up admitting i'm a sinner

breathe in, breathe out

i brought you back from the dead
only for you to sit in your grave

we all did
we prayed for you

breathe in, breathe out

my memories don't lie
and i remember a change in you
and i thanked God with all my might that i could no longer blame you

I WISH I COULD SCREAM IN YOUR FACE BUT...

breathe in, breathe out

if i could pray i would say: God help my dad so he doesn't die in a puddle of his own rage

*breathe in...

It’s the week before the Super Bowl,
where the Patriots and Sea hawks will meet,
and all that folks are talking about
is Bill and Tom’s softball deceit.

It’s cold up North this time of year
when the Patriots made their playoff run.
Snow and ice require gloves;
If footballs slip, they’d be undone.

“Taking the air out of the ball”
Once referred to the running game.
Deflated ***** are easy to grip
But it’s cheating, that much is plain.

It seems the ***** that Brady used
spiraled nicely through the rain.
When you ***** are small and soft,
Like Brady’s, it’s a different game.

When Tom was asked about the scheme
He laughed at first and wouldn’t tell.
The truth about Tom Brady’s *****
is closely guarded by Gisele.

She's a soft cool rain on a hot summer's day.
She makes me laugh with the funny things she has to say.

She's the beat of my heart, and the air that I breathe.
She's the sun and the wind, and (Autumn's) golden leaves.

She's the pride that I feel when I know she's done what's right.
She's that warm feeling I get, when I remember tucking her in at night.

She is homework and a busy social life.
She has this beautiful smile that could light the darkest night.

She is the scared feeling I have when she stays out late.
Or the feeling that I am losing her, when she wants to date.

She's the mixed emotions I have, as I watch her mature and grow.
I tell myself she will never leave, but, I know in my heart that someday she will go.

I hope the man that steals her heart, will treat her like a queen.
Because she deserves so much more, than a man that treats her mean.

I will always cherish the heart wonderful times we have had.
The best part of my life was being her dad.

So now you know who she is, she's my little girl.
I love her with all my heart and always will

He questions, he is not questionable,
He answers, he is not answerable,
His questions are not answerable,
His answers are not questionable,
He questions when there is no answer,
He answers when there is no question,
He questions and answers,
And answers and questions,
Till none questions or answers him.

He dominates, he is indomitable,
He corrects, he is incorrigible,
He takes respect, gives no respect,
He is dependent, not dependable,
Your success is his success,
His success is his own,
His failure is your failure,
He has all access, not accessible  

He quotes to unquote,
Your unquote he quotes,
He is quite open; you keep quiet,
Your optimism is his pessimism,
Your pessimism is his optimism,
He comes up on others shoulders.

He loves his paradise of power,
He is the boss of his domain,
His realm of religion is bossism,
His sadism is unique and universal,
Arrogance is his lasting cup of tea,
His blood group is A-, Always negative,
He is the incredible boss in your life.

only the lonliest princess lived in the castle.
wandering,
from room to room....
but alas, no one else
lived there.

sometimes,
she thought she saw
someone in the garden

...but convinced herself
it was the wind...
            and stayed indoors.

only the the lonliesst
gardener boy
was left,
to tend the gardens,
overgrown, as they were.

sometimes,
he thought he saw some one in the windows of the castle

...but he could never be sure... so he stayed outdoors

so the days passed....
and the lonliest people
in the world lived, unknowingly,
within reach of each other.


and where was the
fairy-godmother...

...the one, who was meant
to put these lonely souls together....

she had gone to barbados
on holiday....
been hit by a falling coconut...
gotten amnesia
and was now making a living as waitress
...and wondering why
her back was itchy all the. time...
from where her wings
had retracted....

A blue black cloud, all over me is written JOY
in the script of vapor, dense, moist and meaningful,
I am light, like a feather, the breeze is in love with me for that,
I love his gentle persuasion to waft, move about, explore..
and then--ravaged by wind my love changes direction.

I love freedom more than anything, but forgot limits, hover
now, I am no more attached to the green hills, they are jealous,
far above them am I, untouched by their vainglorious pride,
I am not hard-hearted, parched fields send shivers of lightning
break me in to thousand  smaller pieces, scatter around.

My love for this earth is kindled by the sights unfurling below
all the egrets, cormorants, storks and herons of great magnificence,
those kind hearted friends that fly with me often are in pain
like the farmers, there isn't enough water for anything.

A cloud is a thought, inspired by the love for mother earth
by the ocean I am gifted to the breeze, to tour around,
on many lands fell my shade, found life in all varieties,
now is the time to be kind at heart, melt, fall in torrents.

The ebb and the ebb and the ebb of your sad heart dear friend.  The
smooth wet weight of river stone;  those sleek dark ears in their grey-green window.

Clear-water sadness all the way to the bottom of the bed
where small grains furrow over the nose of an inquisitive predator.

I know so well your course and turn and how you stir
like an eddy above the tail of a hungry fish.

I see you rise and move. And swim
to another bend to curl into fronds that stroke you.

When you reach the surface, I fin-tickle your belly as
you stop the wing of a succulent dragon fly.   I do not...

I do not want you to go just yet; to the drenching wilderness,
stay a while and bask in the shallows.  Rest,

before you turn to the deep to hunt the elusive figment.
Stay a while and rest with me; empty your ears of whispering watery ghosts.


MChallis © 2015

The many voices of the evening

                   gramophone the sky voice the cell phone
                   the tablet  the notebook, that monotone
                   observer of mutations purveyor of maladies
                   the persistence of memories, pale pink light sink

burning in the fires lighting up the skies

                   an old pang, smitten clang, the pain balm
                   mug-life, pen-knife, kettle-strife, all the sheaves
                   them echo-songs that haunt the drill-wells
                   that are cut wounded and wear fetching

chants, to an yearning oblation

                  bay leaf, curry leaf, yes, them colander coriander
                  there's a rhyme of charlies, looping from
                  our holy wars to now our holy hours with
                  the ombudsman, the omniman, the only God

who used to thunder for the ****

                 old Zeus, the Lord of Betelgeuse, him who we
                 called dead, exhumation, exculpation, exaltation
                 an ancient loneliness that calls from the nether
                 depths, now science, now freedom, now pagan.