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3d · 1.3k
Collective Sighs
patty m 3d
Flaccid is death

like snow drifting to earth

a dearth of visions dimly illuminated,

question sanity, humanity and such

yet snow like dust

swirls and blows away

and life's imprint

soon melts

like footprints

on a snow covered day.  .

Sigh, we live, we die,

so who am I

to ponder fate

with innate lines

when the sand is

dwindling and I'm

running out of time?

Sigh!
May 16 · 253
Feel The Burn
patty m May 16
My intoxicating kisses
no near misses,
sweet and deep
they seep through your bloodstream
one hundred proof and
who can stay aloof
as knees buckle
and I suckle every inch of you.
**** rising high
take me quickly, Lover
or you'll think you're going to die.


Burning desire
like whiskey's fire
burns reality away
only you can tame the flame
driving yourself insane
with yearnings to be sated.
My charm is understated,
my power unknown
but darling you're the one,
my love is yours alone.

I acquiesce, giving you
what you want this time
need leaves you wanton
warm and sublime.
I'm yours for the taking
drink me up or set me down
I'm whiskey in a bottle
baby, and I'll burn you
to the ground.

Addiction, makes you weak
we barely speak,
imbribe, and scribe
words on a page
sage wisdom of ages
filling the pages
while want surges
merging with heat
leaving you weak.
You thought I was ****
now I am the queen
drink me down quickly
to polish the sheen.
Withdrawn, vagabond
drooping half dead
I'm your fantasy lover
my whispers whirl
in  your head.
Drink
drown out pain
as I tease, cajole
your assets extole
while cutting your legs off
down to your kness
I'm your Mistress baby
and I'll do as I please.
Submit,
or feel the whip
as I bind you in chains,
brains addled, once wise
now tortured mindless
one merely surmises
truth in helpless cries.
And yet you sometimes rise
above it all
bandy about like the ****
on the wall

**** a doodle do
coo coo ca choo,
too bad for you.
cut off, cut down
you're merely a clown
playing out fantasy

coddled lamb
to **** you'll be ******
while I'm still feeling frisky,
I'm one hundred proof
sometime aloof
I'm your genie in the bottle
going full throttle

I'm Whiskey
May 7 · 323
Mechanical Failure
patty m May 7
I wanted to fall in love, to swoon beneath you kisses,
thought my wishes would all come true
and yet I'm blue, I feel crashed and at an impasse
a loose connection or a faulty wire, when we touch there is no desire.  Each time you spark, I sputter, if I had my druthers
I'd disappear, duck out of here, but I feel
flustered with this disconnect
from someone who I love and respect
yet chemistry isn't fallacy
and ours falls flat, no welcome mat
and now embarrassed we react instinctively

no longer friends, it's difficult to make amends
it depends on you, I'm open
and offer a token of respect
as I detect signs we'll probably reconnect.
batteries of memories stalled
now recalled bring on heady laughter
I think it's your turn to buy
the burgers and fries,
I'll buy the beer, have no fear,
this friendship comes without romance
yet it's enhanced with perfect schemes
how lucky I am to have you my friend even
though you're not the man of my dreams.
Apr 25 · 442
The Talking Frog
patty m Apr 25
Once upon a time
In the land of Pondpine
magical things began to take place,
strange creatures
would appear out of thin air
and stare right into your face
as if it were commonplace
to have a normal conversation,
the foundation of such
might seem a bit much
but I accepted it
without reservation.

Once near the pond
where I loved to walk
I met a frog who could talk.
Proficient was he or she in history
and kind
to all who lived in Pondpine.

I felt a tale was about to commence
a story so immense that I
joined the frog on favorite log
to see if it made sense.

He drew forth a book
with withered spine
entititled, "Stories Of Pondpine."
The first,  a Ladybird that can shape-shift
a wondrous feat if you get my drift?
She could turn on a dime if so inclined
to Animal, Man or Fish,
perhaps she'd change me if I wished?
She climbed the clouds
feeling very proud
then toured the sky and climbed way high
jumping star to cloud.
That's when she found
the moon holds secrets,
and Ladybird spoke them out loud.
The Moon was angry as can be
and cast the Ladybird down to the sea.
Down Down Down
thinking that she would drown.
But she shape-shifted
into a fish
skimming the water with brilliant swish
of fan shaped tail.
never stopping to inhale,
while the moon's beams sparkled on
silver scales.
I wondered if there would be more?
When the Frog told of a building
with a secret door.
Whenever someone went through
they would land askew.
Say they wanted to go to Siam,
they might land in China or Japan.
But it messed with fate too
and you might become a different YOU.
Once a young lady was to be wed
but ended up in a convent instead.
An old man once went through,
and became a baby brand new.
Then there was a giant as big as a house
who turned into a little mouse.
Just as I was thinking I must be on my way,
The Frog said, "I'll make dinner if you stay."
Not fond of flies I thought to say No,
when the frog stared me straight in the eye,
and there on the log was a lucious meat pie
and pint of ale,
a roasted quail and all kinds of treats.
So I sat down and began to eat.
For hungry I was, I'd been out all day
and the Frog grabbed a reed and began to play;
A glorious song enchanting for sure
for the world around me began to blur.
. . . I awake with a start unsure of where I am,
when I see a lovely lady and said,
"pardon me, mam,
do you know the Frog who sits on this log?"
"yes," said the lady who was beautiful as dawn,
"I'm afraid that your friend the frog is gone."
She told me she too was enchanted in days long gone by,
I'm sure you've heard stories of kissing a frog
and turning him into a prince?
"Oh," said I with plaintive sigh/
and my eyes began to wince.
" I didn't kiss him did I?"
"Nay," said the lady with gentle smile.
I kissed you and kept you here awhile
and entered your dreams by magical means
and in your sleep, you called my name,
"Adele, you're not to blame," while tears
trickled down your face.
And in this place, those words and
forgiving tears could wipe aside
the many years spent without grace.
Thank you friend for being kind,
for listening, and staying to dine,
for believing in stars and dreams in sleep,
for having such a tender heart.
Now I have a chance at a brand new start.
with that she she turned to flee.

Dazzled I blinked my eyes,
and hopped up on the log,
suddenly realizing that
I was the new talking Frog.
Apr 15 · 2.2k
Notre Dame Is Burning
patty m Apr 15
Notre Dame is burning to the ground
people are sobbing in the streets
all around the world.
How helplessly we watch  
as you become engulfed in flame.  
You endured everything,
the French Revolution and two world wars..  
standing as a beacon of Christianity and history
for 850 years.
Now the bones of your
cathedral lie fragile,  
as angels cry for the loss
of your majesty;
My heart too burns in anguish,
this Monday after Palm Sunday.
How beautifully you held your cross aloft
almost touching heaven with it's gleaming.
Apr 10 · 282
Ouija
patty m Apr 10
Silly fools,
touching the planchette
as it invades the haunts of spirits and demons
their dangerous interaction
pointing to blackened letters
or the answers yes or no.

A gateway opens and something relentless creeps to the surface
unbeknownst to anyone.  
Do they think this is a game, this summoning?

Bluesman, playing his guitar
sings about a shadowy man
on a dark road and the bargains he makes.
Moonless skies and rumbling trains
a strange twisting in guts
as crows caw on a tombstones, spreading shiny wings

Now the long road ahead is filled with shadow,
filigreed limbs darkening fleeting time and the trains
their black smoky smudge muffling secrets and dulling wits with their clatter.
A strange man turns up to show us a frightening future,
spreading prophesies and a plethora of conjured visions,
a multitude of horrible events along with the demise of millions
with demons gnawing at their flesh.
Then too there is the rising of the dead;
exhumed bodies, an army of zombies marching.

Old men smoke their cigarettes, lungs crackling
in phlegmy coughs, rheumy eyes filled with pain
as they watch the children **** in frenzied dance
their heads spinning counter clockwise. . .  
The train chugs off in the distance
as the last illusion crumbles.

We no longer see the stranger.
as the song comes to an end,
yet disquieting things skitter on the edge of reason
as they slither through our fear.
Up ahead looms a fiery god
a trajectory of doom and damnation,
while the Bluesman strums his guitar
on a train going nowhere.
Apr 4 · 1.5k
Glistening
patty m Apr 4
From the winds they were spun notes that formed music
ethereal and sweet.
and from the stars poetry sifted
into melody, creating song. . .

How gloriously the stag rises.
sniffing air sweet with supplication..
Each syllable is warm caress,
each scent a flowered note
lifting softly through air,
She watches them take flight,
shimmering stars or merely embers
falling to earth light as rain?
How easily their touch dispels heartache,
wrapped in moonlight and blue shadow,
anointed with the fragrance of spruce.
A rose becomes a kiss whose petals caress lips
lingering just above flesh..
Silent night, the entire forest is lit with magic fire.

. . . "Yet secret is poem's end,"
she says with a conspiratorial wink,
before running swift as summer fawn
scattering petals in her wake.

Gaia, bless this fern filled home.
ablaze with starlight and magic
the creatures of earth bow to you mother
all earth is green and new,
Glistening.
Mar 31 · 413
What I Need
patty m Mar 31
I need a week in Mexico,
the pyramids in the Yucatan.
A leisurely ride in the surf
off Hawaii. painted clouds,
sandy beaches, licking your lips,
cream de menthe,
your skin, honey and wine.
I need a touch of passion,
unfettered hands,
flesh on flesh,
wanton demands.
I need a man,
wise and kind,
a sailboat on the ocean.
And I would smile,
as he slips beneath me,
a deck of pine, warm to my skin,
contoured and restful.
Mar 29 · 278
Wuzzup a rap (male pov)
patty m Mar 29
I thought we had a truce
we even signed a treaty
now you're putting me down
on walls of graffiti

  wuzzup

I **** it up
drain the cup
taste it
don't waste it .

U dish out loathing and fear
sink it right here
your tongue lashin'
rehashin' old news
lets exchange barks and bites
for soft purrs and mews.

But U wanna be bad
with your  backstabbing play
if you want me to submit ,
try 50 shades of gray
  
spread the jam
don't tell me who I am
cuz now I'm takin what I want
like a wolf on the hunt,
unbuckled and prime
don't U cross the line.

**** it up
drain the cup
taste it
don't waste it

no blanket of security
no purity in your smile
cuz I'm taking  you down
without givin' U a trial

back door girls
can't be trusted
trifling *****
You've just been busted.

**** it up
Mar 23 · 514
Read Poems To Me
patty m Mar 23
Read poems to me
with certain flair,
twine pretty flowers in my hair.
Hold me close so I can hear
your gentle breathing in my ear.

I'll whisper rhymes
so soft you will
lean your head to mine.  
Quiet still,
caress your hair
steal a kiss, you unaware.
Collaboration, Patty m and Jthserra
Mar 16 · 1.1k
Mastering The Steps
patty m Mar 16
Patching bits together
to nurture an idea,
all matter of things take shape.  

Spheres of emotions
see red turn blue,  
becoming complete,
as we embrace the world with velvet kiss
coming alive,
learning to feel.

Land of dreams
a Utopia of ethereal colors
descend to Terre Firma.  
Dusty black,  Celestial Pink and lavender,
sunbeams spread their treasure
coppery yellow.
Mere perception recites a line of verse,
savor it slowly, this golden ecstasy drunk
with glory.  
The improbable becomes reality
when thought appears on paper.
Mar 10 · 644
Blowing In The Wind
patty m Mar 10
Reading a book in the morning breeze,
the trees call to me, their rapturous whoosh
in feathered  breeze
teases my cheek
as I breathe in the scattered scent
that folds over pages gently turned
allowing me touch the meaning of the words

Then it comes again, the whispering
of  ancient conversations
rustling as the book falls from my hands
dreams spring like seeds of destiny
creating riddles, the secrets of life.

Little known tales borrow time winging to
streak the sky;
fluttering flags, the delicate song of the windchime,
sums of numbers lay themes unseen,
fields of imagination flower.

I breathe cloud leaving my footsteps skyward
sweet spring verse, the tickle of alliteration,
spills giggling into endless rhyme
blue hyacinths and tiny white snowballs meld
with rose in rainbow sash
Small enticements, create special magic,
a fine lace filigree penned across
a ****** page
patty m Mar 10
In the land of ghosts there lies a shimmer of light ethereal and sacred as an epiphany.  This hour I feel it and care not if it is sand or water, this destiny that liberates faith and soul.  Too long have I, Hassam prayed to God to help me in my quest to find the place called Rainzapour.  Here, I am a prisoner shackled in a dungeon I was besieged and tortured by hideous devils especially the man with the evil eye,   But now my hands are unshackled and I breathe the air of freedom.  Sometimes I stare into a void and gather my senses, yet in white shade there is still darkness.  I am strong as I whisper to fate, " take me to Rainzapour and the palace of the black hearted Caliph Rashidun enemy of the common people."  In the beginning I was wearied by travel having been besieged upon by demons and suicidal assaults and yet my love carried me forward to my destiny.
As a very young man I had collected haunted items, a moon chalice used in sacrificial ceremony, a sword taken from the hand of the dead on a battlefield, a mushroom turned to stone still purple with it's poison one bite away from whole.  Once I found a copper bottle with a heavy seal, this too I added to my collection. I was serious and scholarly but studied the art of combat and became skillful in mock battle and combative games. It was at such an event I caught the eye of Bahija, beautiful creature, my dream of womanly curves, my heart throbbed in my chest when she gave to me a flower and soon I gave her my heart.  She was air and nature and her soft voice danced like smoke in my mind.  All went well and one day as we met in a field of poppies a dark shadow descended upon us.  There on every side were stealthy warriors, soldiers of the dead, hooded devils who took me prisoner and stole Bahija away.  Many years later I learned she had been forced into the harem of the Caliph.. Hatred rose in me, hatred and love and it made me powerful.  Biting down ******* metal my manacles sprung open leaving my hands free.  Soon the guards so brutal yet unsuspecting succumbed to their fate, and I escaped.  I was free and still they incessantly dogged my heels like hounds from ****.  I returned to the field behind my home.  Unwilling to subject my family to the same fate as mine, I didn't enter the house but dug deep into the soft loam to retrieve the box which held a few belongings along with my collection.  The sword gleamed lethally in the light of the moon and a surge of power sang deep in its metal.  The moon chalice as well vibrated, as though it had a task to perform and couldn't wait, but it was the bottle that was most powerful of all throwing itself out of my hands until the seal broke and there before my eyes was a giant genie or jinn.  Broad chested and strong he appeared human but narrowed to fit inside the bottle.  Now I had heard of such as he, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see one.  He was of the line of Marid, considered the most powerful tribe of Jinn. When he spoke it was deep and booming and made me shiver inside my skin.  There were no wishes to be granted, he would help me obtain the most important thing in the world that I wanted and once it was mine he would be free of the bottle.  True to his word he taught me to bathe myself in mud fortified with basilisk oil and to bake in the crust of lava until my body hardened  to the strength of armor, and it was he who as my spirit guide drew up my magick sigil a Silver Sword and Chalice above a Star on a background of Ebony. When I was attacked while traveling he trapped himself in my body and we slew hundreds on hundreds of warriors.  Now as I stood outside the wall of Rainzapour, I knew that soon I would be losing this valiant protector for once I claimed my beloved he would be allowed his freedom.  One last battle condemning the Caliph and all his evildoers to die in their polluted blood, as I freed those innocents he forced himself upon.   So close and yet so far I could detect the flickering of a mind heavy hearted and needful of solace. " Bahilja," I whispered, "Can you sense that I'm here for you?"

Tonight the moon will eclipse and the Jinn once more will become part of me as we scaled the high imposing wall cloaked in darkness.  There were soldiers everywhere, we moved  ghost-like, landing lightly in the courtyard. with only seconds to spare, as the Jinn performed his task.  Twenty men downed and now we swap out our clothes for the theirs, donning hooded face covering and weapons to spare.  Soon we're climbing to the halls of the palace lighted by tall torches and golden candlesticks.  I longed to search for the harem and Bahilja, but silent warriors were everywhere guarding halls and doors.  Some raised their hands in welcome as we passed and I nodded in pretense of recognition.  Before us lay a court room and there the Caliph beckoned us to join him in a meal.  No hummus or taboule, but complex stews with spices and herbs their foreign  scents causing a sickness to rise in my throat.  He invited us to pull forth a cushion as though waiting to crush a dove in his hand.  Things were out of control. I could feel that he recognized me for what I really was, a man inhabited by a jinn and yet his eyes were hypnotizing and I felt unable to resist his hospitality, though I knew this was a sorcerer and a man of blackest evil.  Women entered carrying platters of bread and as the light moved I saw her sitting comfortably on a cushion.  A harder version of the young Bahilja, assured and in control as though she had attained great status.  My heart crashed as I saw the child beside her, five or six years old and the image of the Caliph.   She must be his first wife and mother of the heir, no abused innocent, but a woman of status.  There would be no saving her now. She'd hate me for the child clearly was her love and life.   The caliph played me like a snake, his evil eye delving into my soul and the jinn too was confused and perplexed and prey for evil promptings.  Summoning intense concentration I rose up, making ready to leave.  Then the battle began, there would be no easy exit for the air became putrid and all ran away. It was just the jinn and I and the Caliph whose appearance had changed into a huge black jinn with a bejeweled turban.  Suddenly it all became clear, and I saw this is where I belonged. My mind alert now, I pulled myself up to my full stature returning stare for stare and then the battle began.  Abdul my Jinn surfaced from his previous oblivion.  We bowed and the heaven fell down and darkness turned everything bleak.  I felt jabs and pain erupting  though my soul, this was good and evil battling with all their might.  Abdul fought courageously downing the evil one again and again.  But my body was his prison and each bolt rent yet another hole and each hole seeped blood sapping Abdul as I floundered on the ground. .  I was the bottle that enslaved him and he couldn't cut me loose.  And yet as I became a shadow, Abdul reached for my sword, the mushroom and the chalice and the earth stood still, as rumbling vibrations spawned my rebirth..  One slice of the sword sent the black Jinn's head flying and evil shrank to bitter root leaving the Caliph in the shape of a man.  In the chalice Abdul combined wine and root and mushroom, the final swallow and the Caliph was turned to smokeless fire scorching earth .  We drew a circle and ringed it with salt and his spirit was banished to the cave of horrors.  

What of Abdul and me and the widow and child?  My body couldn't contain Abdul so I set him free.  Free to do as he chose and he chose to be the new Caliph. for only he could contain the evil passed down to child who would someday rule.   Bahilja chose to stay with her child becoming the wife of Abdul and I was welcome to stay as well but chose not too.  Somewhere a new life waits for me.  Strong again and free at last with no demons breathing down my neck I ventured out taking with me some riches bestowed upon me by my benevolent hosts. .Perhaps I would find another trove of ancient  relics, or create magic, or maybe I'll find love.  For now I'll return to my family and relate the tale of Rainzapour.  .
Mar 5 · 1.0k
When Love Is Tabulated
patty m Mar 5
Validate me

with punctuation.

Forever sentence

and pronounce

me with adverbs

and nouns, your adjectives

draw upon my will,

spilling desire across skin.

Exclaim to me love and loving

& never question my devotion while

holding me bracketed in your embrace.

Kiss me with quotations, woo me with verse,

shall we capitalize our aggression

and lower case our sighs?  I leave my heart

between your gentle commas,

the alpha and omega of time.

Riddle me with secret encryptions

your sentences rotating

break into a loving phrase, an almost chant, that

sprinkles life with sparkling asterisks, throbbing stars.

Quote my indecision as if verbatim

yet backspace to ease my mind..

The back slash terror never leaves me

yet it semi colons and no longer pounds.

You are my saving grace

my spell check, who shifts tides

and tickles fancy,

there is no escape when love is tabulated

I'm your prisoner, you hold the keys.

Written by
patty m  ether
Mar 3 · 292
Fey Lassies
patty m Mar 3
Fey lassies they be beautiful
the lads they be so strong
hurling bolts of lightning
though the burnished light of dawn

clouds above be luminous
like the forest fairy's wings
the day unfolds to rainbow arch
and other rapturous things

Oh how the lassies dance about
with flowers in a ring,
while an Irish tenor sings
songs about magical things
.  
How glorious it is
when leprechauns get frisky
are they really here are not
perhaps it's the Irish whiskey?
Mar 1 · 371
Merchants of Death
patty m Mar 1
Darkest Passion
if I defer the grief will I diminish the gift,
the legacy that is yours and mine?
Teardrops of sorrow infuse with loss
shadowing the living,
shall I enter as you have;
or will you awaken if I touch you with my lips?
I will say nothing to the shadows of darkness
trembling against me,
drawing me nearer to earth's bedding,
as we coalesce in the inner sanctum,
a pale chapter in indeterminable time.
Feb 25 · 337
13 words
patty m Feb 25
Who made you God?
When did the nest take precedence over the egg?
Feb 25 · 427
Barely Discernible
patty m Feb 25
Mouth-spills,
breakers of unreason,
the grave edge of black and white
reflected in ice.
Beneath this hard shell
depths uncharted swirl
stunting language,
for who can translate breath,
or freezing water
the numbness that encroaches?
patty m Feb 17
My screen name my real email address, not Patty M.
is masculine.  I didn't want it to sound too feminine, for fear of being hounded so I chose one with strength ,
thinking as I newly entered AOL, the gates of ****, that this name
with fortitude would get me through.
I happened across the AOL poetry boards,
a wannabe writer, dumb, naive but open to acquiring knowledge.
And acquire it I did.  I began in the guise of a man,
thinking it safer that way.  No one would bother a guy,
and if they should think I'm a nerd, what do I care?
For a while it worked, I chiseled my skill, with
harsh words and a dark demeanor.  At least that's
what I thought.  It wasn't too many weeks into the game that
I was found out,  it seems my feminine side had a way of seeping through, soft and syrupy making it's own womanly appearance  So I chucked it all in and became who I really was.  

Then there is still the matter
of my screen name, which soon got to be problematic.
It seems a business man, possibly rich, who traveled a lot
and was a player, had a name almost exactly the same
as mine, except for one letter.  Odd thing that he'd dropped the e.
Soon I was barraged with email from woman of all kinds and shapes
sending me pictures, and telling me what they wanted to do
to me.  Apalled, I fell back from the screen, emitting
a primal scream.  What the f- - k  is this all about?  I was
beside myself with worry.  Had I set off a mob of hot ladies
with the poetry I had written?  Good Grief, Charlie Brown,
what the **** was I supposed to do now?

One day soon after the initial outpouring of **** females
parading in scanty attire, I was accosted by a male
in IM.  "What the f- -k are you doing online, you're supposed
to be on an airplane to Brazil." he wrote.  First my mouth
fell open, and then I wrote back, "are you talking to me?"
I know I'm not the fastest with good comebacks, at least
I wasn't then, but I'll blame it primarily on shock.
I asked him who the **** he was, and he told me he
was my brother-in-law.  Now this is really scary,
because I don't have a brother or sister.  "Not possible,"
I say, and he goes on laughing like it's all a big joke
cussin' his head off and being a general *******.
Well I finally broke in, and told him I am a woman,
and I'm not your brother- in- law.  He said he always knew I
was a little *****, followed by hearty laughter.  I
was beside myself with anger, wanting to punch this
guy out.  I screamed my text across the IM screen
I'm a girl, I'm not your freakin' brother in law and I don't
know what the **** you're talking about, nor do I want too!

He got the message then, and calmed down a bit,
and told me he apologized, but there must be
an error on AOL because I had his brother-in-law's
screen name.  Then after closer scrutiny he discovered
I had the e the other guy dropped.  What a crazy
fiasco this was.  It took a week maybe a little longer
for those poor woman to find the user of their dreams.
In the mean time I sent them all my regrets,
told them  I had a venereal disease, and that my wife would
cut my d- -k off if she found out I was playing around with anyone
ever again. I sabotaged his player status, every way I could.
First the initial shock, and then the messages
all faded away.  So I kept the name that I loved, yet
every now and then it still causes problems,
especially in poetry chat rooms where they don't know me.
Women still seem attracted to the name, inviting me to
to private chat

Hey! do any of you guys, wanna buy my name?
Feb 16 · 581
Not My Colors
patty m Feb 16
I live in imaginary realms
reality is too stark
when caterpillars don't become butterflies.
Why is peace crushed when the war ends
and suddenly I'm the enemy
and no one will help or be my friend?
Fists come down hard
banging out frustration
and love is just a word everybody uses
when they abuse it.
Give is all there is, and no take
or escape from hate;
Black and Blue
Blue and Black
were never my colors,
nor Russian Roulette my game
and trust rhymes with ****
and mistrust becomes dust to dust
and ashes
the lashes and scars and burns
from lit cigars are no longer red
and I'm not DEAD,
but YOU are.
Feb 14 · 303
Funny Valentine
patty m Feb 14
Admittedly we're best friends,
but how many times must
breath catch and hearts
beat out of control
before we turn away from
this gut twisting longing
that aches beyond ache.

Friends find us rather trying,
disclaiming love at every turn
and yet how is it that
I'm only half of myself
when your not around?

Hot dancers on the floor
we club and toast
but always apart with
some other somebody
between us.

Every Valentine's Day
you send me a funny card
and share a bag of Ghirardelli
chocolates with me,
squeezing the bag so I
only get one or two
while you grab the rest for yourself
laughing all the while.

Even as I open the foil paper
and savor the sweetness
melting on my tongue,
I know your kisses
would melt me just
as easily. . .
I yearn, but squirm
swiftly out of reach
grabbing a bag of chips
I love salty with my sweet.

This year is no different,
you show up at my door,
card and candy, and
a silly smile on your face,
a little bouquet clutched in your hand.

Whats this, are they for me?
You thought I'd like them, since
I'm always looking in the florist
window with a winsome look
on my face.  So you felt sorry for me and
bought me some today.  hahahahaha
I love them, sympathy or whatever,
I adore my flowers.

Then I open my card
already laughing at
the card you selected for me
even as I open the envelope.
I don't know where you find them
but they're always hilarious.
Only this time it's lacy
and beautiful, as well as poetically sweet
and it's signed "I love you."

Is this a dream? I shake my head trying
to take it all in.
It can't be reality because
you're my best friend aren't you?
Then I look into your eyes and they're
smiling but you're not laughing
at the wordless me holding my
card and flowers while I
search your face awestruck,
until you gather me close and kiss
me senseless as I melt
just like Ghirardelli chocolates.
Feb 10 · 868
The New Demands
patty m Feb 10
Invasive maneuvers
reprisals, unrest
parched repercussions
defiled battle quest.
We are the pawns,
slaves of the universe;
baby makers, builders, drilled in reverse.
for the rich we become a new silken purse.
We sing and we dance,
get ******* for no money
while they salivate over the scent of new money.

The young and the strong
are among the most prized, ,
confused and abused they don't realize
that no one will come to answer their cries.
Do they think, no they dive off the brink
and slowly flounder or drown 
digging grubs from subterranean ground.

Knuckled under, we hunger
a beast that grovels and gropes
the emptiness eating away all our hope.  
No heroes unsung
to feed what we crave
all are beaten down
there's too few who are brave.

While the old folks get strung
with a life taking needle,
the sick cry out loud
until their mewling grows feeble.  

Lies swept under the rug,
can you feel the tug?
It stands to reason,
equality is dead
now it's power and politics
and the rich interbred.

The menial man is the ox of today
a senseless illusion
as he kneels to pray.

We have no control
although we think that we have
the rulers in government
judge us and laugh  
Behold the matrix
it's here and now,
and we are the animals pulling the plow,
scraping for scraps with rough blackened nails
and small slurps of liquid from rough metal pails?

Beware the wind whispers

as cities fall down and we march to the beat of
maniacal clowns.
Enjoy what you have
before the world turns gray
it's not real life that you're living,
but dreams slipping away.
Feb 8 · 500
Falling
patty m Feb 8
A velvet shadow slips across your cheek
warm moist lips tremble with anticipation.
I know this kiss,
the longing that captures the soul.  
Emotion peaks then lingers in this fragile moment,
pause, breathe, remember to breathe.

Slowly the world slips from beneath our feet
and time reels pleasurably.  
Your breath is poetic caress
sweeping across my skin,
long breathy lyrics
rising rhythmically in the stillness
as  splendor flowers sensuously.  
Even as we fall into wildflower constellations
butterflies rise to infuse the sky.
Tomorrow we must leave this garden,
map the stars and light the sun and moon.  
Yet in this air of brightness
our hearts memorize each detail
against the future's pale;
We melt in pleasure pools,
romantics enchanted,
as we fall into beautiful dreams.
Feb 6 · 567
Half Joy Half Sorrow
patty m Feb 6
Fledgling, I found you helpless on the ground,
now newly nursed, how sweet your tweets sound.
I wish that I could keep you always
but now I toss you softly in the air and watch you take flight.

Will you come back to feed in my yard and
hop along the porch steps?
I linger hesitantly next to the
old screen door trying to watch your flight
thinking of that first tiny dropper of milk
and how you nestled in my palm warm
but helpless and frightened.
Now I the human mother stand earthbound
worrying about my strong little robin
as I ache from letting you go.  

If you remember me come sing outside my window.
You will always remain a sweet memory in my heart,
a soft feathery reminder of how precious life really is.
Feb 5 · 126
Sinkhole
patty m Feb 5
SINKHOLE,
              as a child the dark
              ramifications of the word were
            
                         PARALYZING!!!
        ­         
             I still tread lightly,
                                                   delay­ing
                                                          the
                                                     Inevitable
                                                        c
                                                         o
                                                           l
                                                             l a p s e
Feb 4 · 191
Inside The Wrapper
patty m Feb 4
Scrunched into a corner, the vaguest sense of purpose niggles
yet I'm empty as the night outside my window.
Swallowing the  last sip of luke-warm tea,
the leaves in the bottom of the cup spell MISFORTUNE..
My head screams inside a cellophane wrapper,
beneath the shiny membrane, the undercuts impulse as Morrison croons
"Spanish Caravan."  
His delicious syllables an almost incantation
seek me out in shadow.  Indelible questions tangle with weave of guitar, the voice wood-smoke and frost, as Hendrix's spark drives this dry-eyed vessel over blurry edges.
Instinctual drive, blood red momentum the primal scream warps hollow and papery thin..
Sagging plastic wrap, transparent afterbirth tossed away;
The image  becomes superimposed on bongs and silver jewelry.
How odd  I look like an animal in a cage or an image on the brittle edge of ether.
I breathe in some one else's air, the deep drag burning through my lungs.
"Slip of transparency", the slosh of acid hisses, "Go away, fall into flat vacuous shadow,  feel the hammered nails tipped with poison,
the steady hammer of bass.  
No one will  answer your panicky cry,
                            it matters not to the dead man singing."
Jan 31 · 975
Bless The Babies
patty m Jan 31
Yesterday China shocked the world with its experimentation
of gene editing babies.  
A prominent US doctor took part in this experimentation.  

My daughter asked me, "wasn't it illegal to do this experimentation?

Yes my darling, it is illegal here in the US,  It's very dangerous to experiment on unborn babies or newly born babies, it's a genetic cocktail, and they have no idea of the consequences.    

Yet according to some people and new state laws, they can ****
the unborn or a newly birthed child without a blink of the eye. . There's no consequence or caring, they just ***** out a life.  Then they harvest the child's organs even the skin and sell it.  Quite profitable I hear. 

God bless the babies, who knows what these darlings could have accomplished, now we'll never know.
My granddaughter Abby almost died the day she was born.  She was out of the amniotic fluid and in extreme danger but we didn't know it.  Thank god, Kelly had a meeting for her diabetes that day, she didn't want to go but Mike took her.  When she got there they saw the baby was in extreme distress and performed an emergency operation.  She had to stay in intensive care for weeks with all kinds of scary possibilities hanging over her head .  But she battled through and thrived, How blessed is this gift, I thank God everyday.
Jan 28 · 200
Paradise Rules
patty m Jan 28
Jazz
rocked by wind
ponders reptilian riddles,
trails of slow ants, riffs and rants,
hot licks, cool kicks, all aglow on the griddle.

The old sax moans
beneath trumpet’s blare,
bass strumming blue notes
reverberates mellow as
brass shiny bright
starts to blare and to bellow.

Sinewy strands compressed,
expand, lifting, drifting, totally grand.
A tiptoe romp through the thistledown,
floats sluggish water, warm green-brown.
Closed to the sun the back beat rocks
funneling high pitched wails,
a staircase leading nowhere
exposes sound impaled

Covert flights
holiday lights a magic carpet ride
astride the tide,
the thread spreads,
frays, splays;
Unearthed, un-rehearsed,
the prequel unequalled.

Night air races traffic's hiss
the sirens high-pitched whine,
The lady sings the blues
the notes a ball of twine;
ringing, unstringing,
that hand on hip sassy sashay
mischief making, wild shaking
carnival ride for the taking.

Sharpness dissipates
to licked over whisper,
lilting spill of soft caress.
Melody weaves through waves of heat
plinking notes across the plain,
unrestrained notes of pain;

Hunger, plight, blossom at night.
Jungle drums, trills, runs,
the tiger prowls its bite so deep
spilling blood exposing meat.  

Sultry hot
or sterile cool,
that's jazz folks,
there are no rules.
Jan 17 · 239
The Man-thing Dangles
patty m Jan 17
The shapeless man-thing dangles
there for all to see.  
The air-**** is open waiting
but only hissing escapes tauntingly.  
Once people came
from far and wide to see him rise,
swollen and throbbing as  he moved in and out
slippery as French condoms.
He rose above them tethered in
that fifty person ****
that took place in the street.

Alas old age has done him in,
even heroes must surrender to a new generation.
Now Goku the giant is supreme
and Superman is deflated,
he'll never fly again in the
Macy's Day Parade.
Jan 15 · 127
Lackluster
patty m Jan 15
In tranquil harmonies
cold weather returns to mask the hills with frost and snow.
Muted now the landscape hardly exists at all  
as anonymous figures wrapped in coats and scarves
trek in futile directions.
              In frozen stillness
we're left with a feeling of isolation

gone are the hectic festive days
having passed into solitude and quiet
until this storm lends itself to interpretation
a foot of snow and still it flurries,

white grace your frozen crystals
sparkle as dawn approaches
then fall lackluster as day proceeds,
day after day the chalky nothingness
looms heavy
a ghastly whitewash
grown ashy
a cadaver frozen in time
Jan 15 · 209
Fallen Jars
patty m Jan 15
Wild wind blowing
through the apartment window
knocks down some covered jars.
The girl chasing their rolling

falls
the searing pain in her knee
a fire lit beneath a kettle
she tries to apply the icy
      
look in her father's eyes

but it grows more subdued
until solitary in its torment.
His broken spirit falls farther
than those loved ones, deceased,
whose ashes roll
in fallen jars.
patty m Jan 15
o'er bloodless landscape
gray skies lament snowy scenes
the loss of color

melancholy days
swim in boredom and quiet
champagne highs fall flat
Over a foot of snow fell Friday, with another storm approaching this weekend.
Roads have been cleared but subdivisions etc are heaped high with snow.  It's way too cold to play outside or build a snowman.    I can't remember when I last saw sunshine. .
Jan 15 · 337
In Snow Monsters Grip
patty m Jan 15
it started at noon,
the TAKEOVER,
and by Three it's a MONSTER SNOW STORM
a foot of snow, encroaching roads and highways

Snails pace traffic
5 hours late and I've barely scratched the surface
I sit in place or inch a tire turn at a time
In snow and ice, a mere hill
                                                 l
                                                    o
         ­                                               o
                ­                                           m
                                                                ­s
overpowering our horsepower
the biggest of all,  the 18 wheelers are the most vulnerable
as they jackknife
and leave us all stranded.
crashed cars and those abandoned after many hours
lie strewn like jackstraws
and there is no pulling off the roads or highways
because there's no place to go

slowly strain amasses,
along with panic and confusion

even blacker shadow stabs
along with piercing bright lights
and now the needle hovers just above empty.
as I turn off the engine and huddle
unprepared for frigid cold.  
helplessness is creeping fingers stiff as frozen twigs
and soon the ruddy lights of other cars die
as if leached and bloodless.

Discomfort yammers and gnashes
dreams of a steaming kettle, something to ease my hunger,
the flatness of time.
The only constant is
                       the snow that falls   e
                                                        n
     ­                                                d
                                                  l
           ­                                    e
                                           s
                                       s
                                    l
                         ­      y
until the window's star-flecked depths
leave me sightless
Shadow wars, helplessness is
a snowy monster that has me in it's grips
                                       to think I used to love SNOW.
Jan 15 · 57
Godling
patty m Jan 15
Vaporous conjecture
an ongoing lecture sets
alarms sound, light years away
Godling on the fringe,
on a power binge
biting pitch-black,
ready to sack the experiment in

Beyond the rise blind eyes
needn't see to surmise the undeterminable
depth of the emptiness of Earth's shadow.
Fertile fields turn fallow as hate's ****
seeds countless war-torn lands
while grand weaponry expands.
Build until we annihilate whole countries at a time
in the sublime madness of power
the glowering fallout
suffocates our shouts of glee
gasping,  
                 we forget who is or was the enemy.

To our chagrin, infusions stimulate cataclysm,
while the sun with awkward precision
does it's regular crawl,
arcing against the skyline
until it hits an impenetrable wall  

Now viscous flesh
sits congealing
gelling in turbulence's unrest
unaware that the air is putrid
now that our planet's
completely compressed.

Good bye to war, greed, and temptation,
goodbye to love and **** and prayer
some will rot in a wormhole
and no one will know they were there. .
Others will  sink in the mire
some will travel to the outskirts of time
while the rest will simply expire
to the beat of this incessant rhyme.

Written by
patty m  ether
Dec 2018 · 1.1k
The Language of Love
patty m Dec 2018
Beloved your hands speak without words
taking me over the edge,
untie the knot
and let the threads of twilight fall.

Seduction is your smile
the way you lift the sheet in a beguiling way
tempting me with the warmth beside you.
Tenderness fills me with desire
narrowing the space
to your outstretched hand.

We love, could life be more beautiful
extending sunlight sparkling midair?
Words become un-played notes to touch,
its symphony welling.

Burnished heat warming heart and soul,
love translates to mouths and lips, through kisses.  
We speak in tongues of glories given
fingers of light, a teardrop of happiness
spilling into sleep and sensuous dream;
only to awake to rain and distant thunder,
the desire to speak again .

Written by
patty m  ether
Dec 2018 · 327
Taken For Granted
patty m Dec 2018
How wondrous this vision spun,
begun with brush dipped into dun,
yet meadowlark and thistle down
spread rainbow to the world surround
and thus spill forth a field of flowers
and trees whose height diminish towers,
                                in wind gusts fresh and free,
                                        imbued by sky and sea.
salty lick of wave, dark dampness of a cave
the crystal stream, the muddy river
all the joys our earth delivers

Yet the  birds and fish and beasts who roam
ask man to think, perhaps atone
open your eyes and try not to blink
as you strive to save Earth
from disaster's brink.
Nov 2018 · 646
Muted Now
patty m Nov 2018
Endless stars
guide me through night.
The older me
living on the streets
lies warm in a blanket of hope
alive in a dream

Bristling winds
blow disdain,
a discordant swirl bandies

In an expanse of tear-stained mind
truth well-seeded tries to grow,
the birds come closer now,
because I am still.
Nov 2018 · 834
Glistening
patty m Nov 2018
From the winds they were spun,
notes that formed music, ethereal and sweet,
and from the stars, poetry sifted
into melody creating song.
    . . . How gloriously the stag rises.
sniffing air sweet with supplication
each syllable a warm caress
each scent a flowered note;
        She watches them take flight,
shimmering stars or merely embers
falling to earth light as rain?
How easily their touch dispels heartache,
wrapped in moonlight and subtle shadow,
anointed with the fragrance of spruce.

A rose becomes a kiss whose petals caress lips
with velvet softness. . .
Silent night, the entire forest is alight with magic fire.

. . . "Yet secret is poem's end,"
she says with a conspiratorial wink,
before running swift as summer fawn
scattering petals in her wake.

Gaia, bless this fern filled home.
ablaze with starlight and magic
the creatures of earth bow to you mother
all earth is green and new,
glistening
patty m Nov 2018
Poets don't pick the time or place, or the state of their lives.  Some write while trying to STAY ALIVE in a hellhole state of abuse. And yes like the homeless man on the street They don't mouth words, they write guts, and gall, and bruises, They write love, and levity and crazy rants or bits and pieces of hope and dreams. Poetry is  the other side of the mirror, the place of sanity/insanity and escape.

Tinny whine
by design
a wind-chime
blowing
words are snowing
trumpets blowing
where's the rhymer
the man who writes lines for two bucks
what the f- - k
Once poets were revered
now they sear through the mind
refined or unrefined, no
loving valentine.
And still I read in awe
chewing on a straw
drinking all the thoughts in
how does one begin to absorb
it all?
The aches the pain, the non-monetary gain,
the romance, and happenstance,
As to the question
Who writes poems like this?
the words were uttered like a breathless kiss

not a reprimand, or justification
supplication to that
unholy state of upper-hand,
on demand, testamentary of
vocabulary signature of solemn state
in which one contemplates tone and
that alone designates the way
one whispers when truly touched
by poetry that says so much.

Who writes poems like this?
I seek to amend,

Only the very best my friend
text is so easy to misunderstand, when one can't hear the tone expressed.  
hugs
Patty
Nov 2018 · 1.8k
The World's A Crazy Zoo
patty m Nov 2018
What if,
flies were made from flypaper,
and birds from
bird-nest soup?
What if the monkey had
a wrench he could call his own,
and cats that were lion
told the truth?

Then the energy of it all
could be a bright blue ball
as the world
becomes a crazy zoo;
Where parrots can
be polyglots,
and rhinos,
rhinoplasty.
and I can be a horseman and
toucan think of more.

Perhaps the boa could be
soft as ostrich feathers,
and the bear would hug
us close and dry our tears.

The moral of story
isn't serious that's true,
if goats can be kids,
then I can be ewe.
Oct 2018 · 884
Rotting Time
patty m Oct 2018
Web-winged shadows banish me to rotted time,
where twisted dreams strangle all my wishes.
Spring is a black room,
the visitation weeps conversation;
sob to me in your sad voice.
. . . I want to hear you lie my love,
strike the silence, release the thorns you withhold.
Your smile is harshness and permanence,
your lone syllable a poison dart. . .
I beg you,
spread your healing kiss,
a soft white ribbon for this sanguine bouquet.
There is death between your lips
and sand and glass and thunder throbbing,
yet I dance unburied
to your harsh song
played on crying violins.

Desolate these passions
and this biting kiss,
your goodbye
thrown in ashes.
Oct 2018 · 445
Beautiful Child
patty m Oct 2018
beautiful child the wind blows hollow
through your pane
lay down your head in familiarity
trust is gained, and mine is golden
tucking covers, and blocking
images that frighten you
I offer love and understanding
a heart filled with caring
a protective stance
that holds darkness at bay
come dance with me in dreamy puddles

Lets drift off in make believe
as we laugh away the hours.
How sweetly your breath
kisses my face,
as your hand finds comfort in my sleeve,
Even if I ache I won't disturb your slumber,
or the dreams that bring sudden smiles to your lips.
And if you wake, you'll see me here
and know that you are safe
Sep 2018 · 709
Pie In My Eye (haiku)
patty m Sep 2018
lemon pie sunday
meringue mountains peak sweetly
over earths warm crust
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