filth compiles
with the lights on
all these letdown sunday nights

what's in this dust now
a forgotten name
that ruined my life

there was just no other door
to walk through at the time

i stayed and stayed
called your name
forgot i was a woman too
when my savior came
to save me, i didn't go with him
he wasn't you

i stayed and stayed
called your name

until i was nothing
until i was no one

he was my stolen sun,
a stolen sun , a savior came
to save me, i didn't go with him
he wasn't you, no he wasn't you
forgot i was a woman too

until i was nothing
until i was no one.

One should never regret coming away
From any crowd, and certainly not now:
Their loving voices are raised in chants of hate
And their funny hats aren’t funny at all

Their ultimate freedom is the freedom to
Obey with love the loudest loving leader
Who twists their supplicant hands to fists of love
For beating harmony into us all

One will never regret coming away
From any crowd, and certainly not today

She wasn't like Ariel
Didn't want to end up having legs,
Wasn't interested in babies
Prefered the idea of laying eggs.

So she swam the Sargasso sea
Where the water's warm and dark,
And had a romantic fling
With a hammer-headed shark.

He was tough his skin was rough
He never meant her any harm
But in his throes of passion
He bit off her left arm.

The relationship was short
Ending in painful failure,
He had post ****** depression
And was harpooned by a whaler.

She bought a fishtank for their young
And got a job on land,
Pulling off one-legged sailors
With her one remaining hand.

The End.

Whisper Your Area 51

                  “Russian Aircraft Flies Over Area 51…”

                        -U.K. Daily Mail, 31 March 2019

Each of us is an Area 51
In hiding from a psychic bombing run
Behind the barbed-wire fences of our senses
Beneath the radar of our consequences

Our secrets are so secret that even we
Don’t know what they might be, could be, will be
Because the slide-rule calculating hearts
Can only slip between odd-numbered parts

Each of us is an Area 51
Playing hide-and-go-seek
                                                   but not for fun

The humming of a forest glade
The bumbling of bees,
The place you stop
To take your shade
Beneath the ancient trees

In the vapors of the seas
As they caress your face
In monkeys on a vine trapeze
In a gazelle's grace

There, then gone
Without a trace
God's in flakes of snow
Glistening like tiny lace
They collect in floes

God's in the meercat's
Funny show
In otters having fun
In their holes the
Snowhares go!
Lizards seek the sun

God is in...

The wildflowers won
By maidens in the field
He's in the soldiers
With their guns
Who make the foe to yield...

But God is NOT
The cause of war
As many claim to say.
He is NOT religious "score"
He wants us to PRAY.

That our leaders
THINK and STAY
Their armory to CEASE
He HATES those
Who in their way
Destroy our Planet's PEACE.

So let's give God
A break at least!
He loves us!
Have you heard?
He wishes LOVE
To flow... INCREASE!
Our ***** we must gird

God's in ALL CREATION.
Sublime to the absurd
He wants PEACE for Nations

IT SAYS SO IN HIS WORD.


Catherine Jarvis
(C) 3/30/2019

55--is it the limit?
I’ve been slowing down, for sure.
Trying to economize, but my size
is growing.
No longer a tease; I’ve got bad knees.
I seize the day,
but please,
ask me if I prefer the elevator.
I might see you later--or not.
We can't count on tomorrow,
but I don't dwell in sorrow.
Now I hear more, see more,
even when I've lost my reading glasses. I know what life is for.
I grow things. I sing. Gladly
I do the dishes.
I have no birthday wishes. Wishes are for a future.  
I’ve removed things, and sewn a suture.
The way I was is history. That girl, with pretty shoes,
didn’t play the blues.
Now I listen, and I play those tunes.  
I’ve got no use for pretty, ‘cept for being pretty sure.
Sure, I've been wrong—wrong to wear those shoes, for one thing,
cuz my toes hurt.
Now, I know all the dirt. I’ve got things buried so deep
no one knows. But from the dirt, stuff grows.
I’m watering those plants, and wait til you see what springs up. Time ain’t up yet,
and there’s a green hill, and tall trees, and a sunset.