I was once accused of being the devil under a darkened moon on a foggy night
Now, I've met the devil and let me tell you The devil once beat me with a curtain rack over my back until I bled Only to pretend it was in the sport of the game
I've met the devil In fact, the devil used to show my mom love from the end of a fist and in the sunrise after a long night of crying Would convince her it was in the name of his love for her
I've befriended the devil The Devil once taught me how to pick locks and marks minding their own business And to prey on these people, nay, Opportunities Like my life depended on it
I've lived with the devil The devil kept once locked me in a house-shaped-prison before flinging me into the world unprepared, and dazed Only to blame me for not watching the outside close enough from my foggy window
I've loved the devil And eagerly, I gutted myself in the devil's name each time she asked me to see my still beating heart Only to be confused as to why she hated the mess that followed my orders
I've sacrificed to the devil I've taken my own heart and soul, and impaled them on a blade made of pure jaded spite, only to lay them with all the other hearts I've stolen and pierced Unknowingly, yet undoubtedly maliciously.
I've kissed the devil And in that deal I sealed my fate a lifetime of servitude to a soul I helped created And created a bond with the devil that was forbidden for good reason
I've lied to the devil Only to have my mistakes return and slash me across the face like the blade that is the sun's beams shedding light on a long night of forgetting problems No matter how justifiable he claimed I was
I've seen the devil He watched me from the bottom of an orange tube only to switch his view finder to something he could swim in
And once more, even now, As it dances on the end of my blunts
I've met the devil And I've met the devil many times throughout my lifetime I've met the devil enough times to identify it by smell, or hearing Despite it coming with a new assortment of blends, a new chirp every time it appears, and a new look complete with me words ****, at one point, it was me
But I know this Now: I am not (currently), Nor will I be ever again, The Devil.
A black cat crossing my path isn't a bringer of poor luck, otherwise I'd trip down my stairs far more often, or get whacked by a stealthy sheathed paw with more dreadful precision when I ascend them. It's just a game this cat plays, as if they guard the upstairs to keep intruders out. I live here, this is my house. A flock of crows doesn't bring me to fear the day as old warnings say they're just dark birds gathering together. On Autumn days I pretend they're investigating their ******, casting wild accusations with their raucous cries, and the final judgement, no matter the distance, reaches my ears with clarity like a church bell tolling when its time to pray. "Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" And what of breaking mirrors? Mistakes happen, reflective material shatters. If I let my mind run with that one time I knocked a mirror over, well I'd never let go of the damage I caused. Pieces of an old reflection live within me embedded in my skin like shrapnel from bombs dropped on my head, doesn't matter if I saw them coming. I could only shelter; never dodge.
I held onto the memories that made me cry. That made me enrage That even made me hateful inside. As I moved on. To another memory. I burned any good that you made with me. Up in flames. Is where the good ones went. I forgot to hold on to the ones that . At one time. I wish I had not resent.
I saw you from the corner of my eye Flash black, you showed your face but yet your gaze couldn’t meet mine Uneasy goodbye and sage burnt soon. Left this lingering feeling Were you someone I knew?
Consider everyone as a friend unless they prove to be otherwise and then we should consider the workings of some compromise. There are certain mysteries compelling from previous births we’ve had and what we’re all faced with now is the outcome of them good or bad. ________
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's
Is it bad to know that it would hurt if I went through I’m the bad guy if I tell the truth And I know no one wants me to go And I know that even though I used to not care They wouldn’t go there Do the same thing I want to The same thing I can’t do What would they think To know that I'm on the brink Of leaving and never coming back
why do people do things that are bad for them maybe its because they dont love themselves enough maybe that bad thing is the only good thing left in their life
why do people stay with people that are bad for them maybe its because they think they don't deserve better maybe that bad person helps them relive their past trauma unconsciously
1. bad day omens come in threes, a Trinity Church with a graveyard included and attached, (1); when your breakfast navel orange targets, aims & squirts on its namesake orifice,, a prescient hint for a freshly cleaned white T-shirt day, first bite of the date
2. a trinity requires three, the day is young, so when sun up shines, surely a positivity, nah, no! just to make a point, immediate comes out a glazed donut coating haze that says impolitely, no sir, “nun-uh”
3. go to the kitchen for fresh coffee, hearing a car pulling out, finding note, on coffeepot-propped, neatly folded, To: Only Love Poetry
”Cannot do this anymore, don’t forget to turn the coffee machine off”
P.S. Can’t afford another costly mistake. Pre-treat that orange spot. It was good for awhile, till it wasn’t, but our spots, just won’t come out, no matter how many times we tried, stained permanent. Sorry.
onlylovepoetry
(1) Trinity Church https://www.exp1.com/blog/5-most-famous-people-in-trinity-churchyard/
