I was lost upon the sea
Floundering in the waves
No one there to rescue me
Filthy and depraved
So deaf and blind I could not see
The black heart of a knave
Bowed under iniquity
I was, to it, a slave
Waves splashed over on the lea
To port only the grave.

There's only blackness in the sky
No moon. No clouds. No stars.
Like the pupil of an eye
A firmerment of tar
The water's where the dead fish lie
To horizons far
You hold your head & cry
Then a figure walks to mar
I squinted to see, tried
His hands & feet are scarred.

I was not sure that I perceived
The silhouette out there
To drowning men a straw received
Seems a saving hand so fair!
Though my boat was clogged with weeds
I found a paddle I could bare
I moved my boat, it weaved
Toward the man I stared!

There he was, an apparition
Brighter than the sun
I paddled on as on a mission
Dank air filled my lungs
But my disease was in remission
My journey had begun
He spoke to me. I HAD TO LISTEN VICTORY TO BE WON

And so I walked upon the water
You may find this odd
I heard The Words. I am His daughter

And HE'S ALMIGHTY GOD.

Catherine Jarvis
(C) 6/27/2020

Opiates are the religion of the masses.

two of you,
on my green turf, at play
this sun-drenched day

squirrels courting? or plotting to gnaw on my trim
on a whim, it seems, since my trees have left you
ample acorns and plentiful pecans to fat your bellies,
sharpen your teeth

my neighbor has trapped and drowned a score of you  
a dreadful thing to do, many would contend--though I cannot pretend, I’ve not called about a trap

but alas,
I could not watch you writhe wildly
and gasp for breath, without recalling the ancient paddies
and those in my sights whose play I ended, with the fast flick of a switch and easy pull of the trigger, on another sunny day

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who will rise and who will fall?
Who will suggest?
Who will deride?
Who promises safety?
Who propagates lies?
Who lives for the people?
Who works for themselves?
Who lines their pockets?
Who's stocking the shelves?
Who keeps us informed?
Who knows what to do?
Who has the solutions?
Who prepared?
Who knew?
Who wonders?
Who marches?
Who decides what ensues?
Look! Who's coming to your rescue

You’re so stupid you think it’s sincere :
Urban violence designed to spread fear.
It’s a crisis they use
When they win, we all lose;
Civil chaos. The methods are clear.

Angry rent-a-mobs, looting and burning,
Destroy other’s livelihoods, earning
A good rioter’s wage
For destruction and rage
(As the locals, too late, are now learning).

The democrat leaders in Minn.
Are uncertain just where to begin
Cleaning egg off their faces.
They egg on the races . . .
The narrative’s starting to spin.

i poet
writes about suicides
impulse cutting
you get misunderstand

you need polarized
we am writes about depression
you so emo

me so emo
need u to reads
more socials justice
more racistism

you were rights
for me to reading
american poetries

because read a poetry
spewed out by
bot software