Women of a Certain Age
Can't tell the difference between love and pain
Just want to feel to know they're sane
Numb to the concept of shame
Their hearts grew weak from false loves
Skipping and breaking
Sitting alone in a corner shaking
Until they had no ***** left

I watched the coal-black smoke
of the ancient chimney
as it chased a messianic dream
swirling up the smoggy expanse
to the freedom of the blue sky
for a lungful of sanity.

I watched the gloom
of the soot-smeared boy
in tattered khaki
as he longed for the dark wings of smoke
to take him on its pilgrimage to freedom.

Withered by the corrupting fumes of the chimney
he lay there.

With no hands to hold to the smoke
as it spiralled up,
with no breath to feel
the freedom of the azure sky,
he lay there.

Like a faint twig
feeding the wrath of a funeral pyre
he lay there!

When the Flamingos return home
with their pink flourish flaring up the horizon,
my shadow grows taller, stranger.

At an untidy pace, it grows,
swifter than my feet,
outsmarting my sanity.

With contours blurred to a hazy oblivion,
a stranger to me I become. I search me
hiding in the shadow of a Chimeric illusion.

My impish shadow plays hide and seek -
long in the morning,
weeny at noon,
weird again in the evening, but
never it leaves me!

When Flamingos return home,
it cruises with the setting sun
across the mystical waters
beneath the earth
to return to me
with the blissful colours
of a new dawn!

You keep me sane in this mad world.

i will keep on
the write
the fight
bleeding from my pen

i will question my sanity
till the very end
not missing a thing
i will discover my being

I knew my mother once,
Her kindness and simple true advice,
I knew her habits and laughs,
And her love of cooking, family, and life,

She would speak of love,
And reached out to me,
She saw my struggles clear,
I would pour myself into her lap,

And then she was gone,
I don't recognize her now,
Hate and scrutiny filled her heart,
She leaves for weeks at a time,

I miss my mother dearly,
As does my father,
I'm afraid for her,
Why did she leave her sanity?

I have learned from a young age that I would attract a certain kind of attention. Prepped for the stares I would receive for being more well endowed in the areas that spark lust in men. From a youthful age sexualized, only sought after for one purpose. One glance and thoughts are shifted to fantasy. Never asked about feelings or emotions, just questioned about how I can satisfied needs. I am only looked at as a fun time never a long time. They all believe that because I look a certain way, that I must have all these men in my bed, and that I am only in their presence for pleasure. My sanity is often questioned, once they realize that I am not a seducer or temptress that falls in to the hands of multiple men. But they also have the mentality to wonder why someone like myself is distant, guarded and closed off.
(Looks gone to waste in their eyes, tainted in my own)