she lives in one of the crummy rooms down the hall in the building where the rats run and tumble through its terrible walls like children at play
she has intimate conversations
with saints and pigeons and the daffodils in the park and the rats in the walls and late at night with her dead daughter
her boots echo down the hall she's going to clean the gutters of trash and feed the cats I watch from my window the cats come running from the abandoned church hundreds come running the kids call her cat queen i call her savior
II.
I still hear those boot steps when the air turns cold and lakes freeze and her ghost tells me people die the way they live and through the looking glass down the rabbit hole we'll all go
III.
there in this concrete in that crummy room was the thief that hunts my dreams
but you were something gentle and kind a brightness in the projects
a caring heart a loving soul in this city where there were few
As black as my birdlover poet's pen ink Coal black as every poet's ink, hue upon hue a rook and a raven flew flew flew as the wind it breezily blew blew blew And blustery became the view, view, view
An albatross then gracefully took to the air and for hours it seemed to linger there Then we saw magpies rise unto the skies As well as a kestrel soar with such flying flair
Bright toucans and brown falcons too fly and glide So many wings fill up God's wide skyline
All such avians rise and shine with 'flying colours'. Their flight enabled and powered by divine powers
O' birds of flight your secrets tell and if you know which of us had end up in heaven or hell? For isn't all is well that ends well. Lets pray there ain't hell's murk but Eden's light at the end of the tunnel!
You know it's near the end when the pope atones for abuse of children, by Catholics. They're all about deceit. And wouldn't the idea of what atonement is be defined by the abused? I wonder if they have to kiss his ring. Then he slips them some disease, so they can go to the hospital...which are all ran by Catholics. You can't make this **** up.
It is also the hardest thing for a lot of folks to say. They like to think they know things, but a lot of the time thinking you know something keeps you from learning.
I've forgotten quite a bit of my childhood The teenage years that is Spent so many years without sleeping Anger-bleaching my brain Who was I, I hardly knew
But I am so different today Or perhaps I am who I always was And back then was just the shell I did not change then did I? Does the distinction even matter? I feel so different today
I breathe a sign I take to assume that I still live among so many monsters hiding in plain sight. So well mixed with the society It is time for sheep to dorn Wolf's clothing To feel one with the crowd.
I was 9. The circus was coming that summer. It promised to bring life to the cornfields. 4th of July. Circus matinee and evening fireworks!Daddy had it all planned out. Mama smelled pretty. Papa looked fancy. I wore my favorite white church dress.
We were in the biggest tent I ever saw with people everywhere. Louder than anything I ever heard. I never felt like this. So much energy in so much space and my skin was electric, my eyes wide with the wonder of it all. Magical.
It really was the Greatest Show on Earth! Girls swinging on trapeze and men balanced 100 feet above us on a wire. Elephants huge powerful beasts tame as puppies on the farm. Clowns silly and mute and lovely made us laugh. It was heaven. We were suspended in a moment.
I smelled smoke. I saw smoke and fire and panic. 8000 people wanted out now. I wanted to see the fireworks in the dark. So many died. Animals died. Mama and Daddy died. They smelled like cooked meat. I died from smoke. I was found perfect in my dress. I'm unknown. I'm called body #1565. I love the circus.