...just simply crazy:  me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMIV)


Be modern art.  Don't merely wear a sense
Of twisted souls in anguish, that detail
Seen only on the runway to avail
Is't buyers of the tortured folk which thence
Are writhing whilst they trot amongst us? whence
Designers new upon the scene cull frail
Half notions of it in their wildness' scale
Of "clothing," music pumping out that hence.
Thus Yamamoto's girls looked pained in tour;
Ike Seungik Lee's um, clowns which played all through
Their catwalk, to effect.  Chanel as twere
Conserv'tive was't?  I can't see how but to
Be stylish is pure madness, though tis poor
To call it that.  Just laugh at me, won't you?

10Mar18c

I searched greatness,    
      In  ties    
      In  lies    
      In  suits    
      In  rumors    
      In  medals    
Never did I find, any.    
    
But,    
I find greatness,    
      In your sweat    
      In your dream    
      In your silence    
      In the pain, you feel  
      In your responsibility    
      In your smile that calms    
      In the simplicity, you behave    
      In the effort, you  are making    
      In the direction, you are moving    
    
yes,    
I find greatness,    
        In every hope for life    
        In the moon in a dark    
        In the eco-friendly science    
    
Even that has nothing to do with me,    
Personally.

Her son was asleep
She was relaxed now
As she stepped out the shower
Her dripping body
Her brown skin
Naked, she looked as beautiful as a flower
Sweet as brown sugar
They called her
She thought that was so corny
She moisturized her long legs
Which made men oh so *****
When she thought about it
As she moved up her body
Her son stirred
Her hands were on her *******
She softly cursed
Her ******* were like soft ebony basketballs
She admired them
No wonder she got so many catcalls
And those buns
Those buns
Those sweet firm cinnamon buns
They speak for themselves
They’re the perfect balance
She looked in the bathroom mirror
And looked back at it
And touched it
In silence
Soon that silence was no more
Her son wasn’t asleep anymore
She had to cut short her body admiration
Due to her dedication
To her son
They called her Brown Sugar
She knows why
Now all her Brown Sugar is devoted...
For her son.

You were my mother and I have something very important to say.
I love you and I lost an important person when you passed away.
You had an aneurysm which was what caused your untimely death.
I was in the hospital room with you when you took your final breath.

I was devastated when the doctor told us you were going to die.
Life would never be the same again after I had to say goodbye.
On the day of your death, I cried and I felt mighty low.
But I'm feeling better now than I did half a decade ago.

Even though time has healed my wounds, I still miss you.
Dying is terrible but sadly, it's what we all eventually must do.
It makes me happy to know how much we loved each other.
Rest in Peace Mom, you were always one hell of a mother.

You said you would track me down, hunt me
Like a prey. Even strangle him at the altar
So you could keep me as your princess.
I said I would get blood on my hands, defy gravity
just to touch your face. Even use my beauty
to ******, So I could be your trophy.

"She is mad. She is poison and a wreck." My heart
was the scene of a car crash, smiling
Through burning petrol and licking off the sweat
Lipsticks on check, girl dressed up her sophistication
to the nines, eyes vacant, seducing men.

"You are nothing but a cute kitty cat."
You pricked all my thorns and scooped me up
like a baby, arms sure and powerful, eyes on me
Heart pouring out, love drowning me.
Suffocating me in a tub of something called love

You undressed me, high heels, red dress, black lace.
Luscious wanton flesh willing under your palm. You
whispered love as you made love, you marked my soul
the way you marked my body as your territory.
You found the missing piece and made me shiver as you
Made me whole again.  

Be my Harley, I will tell you all the jokes a joker can.
Be my Bonnie, I will take aim and rob your heart like Clyde
"He is a ******, and she is mad"
You took my hand, kissed me hard and bit the vows on my neck.
"For better or worse?"
"Till death do us part"

Yes, if any enquire, there's blood upon the page--



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXXIX)


So what of...love? the fevered pulse' detail
And how I'm yours in just a wink, to fence
Is't twinkling hours with you in every sense
Upon my tongue, and throbbing in betrayl
Through all my veins:  I have forgotten, pale
As aught excuse, what it meant to be thence
All yours, because to be is dead from hence
Cuz you are not, a memry without bail.
Yet Valentines is coming round in tour,
Though I've ne'er had a man tae sweetly woo
Or say "Be MINE" 'til after all in poor
Excuse was oer.  I'd suitors months 'go who
Pledged love and called me theirs.  But now?  Lo, we're
Fresh out of that, my dear.  Ah, what is new?

05Feb18c

...asking if I'd "--left the kitchen because it was too hot?" as I'd brownies in the oven and dinner warming on the stove.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMVIII)


Lo, nary voice flits through this warm pretense
Whose eye is April's in a trice, the pale
Blue heavns white clouds dim with four geese' detail,
And yes, a silent flock of birds which thence
Fly past, light flashing off their wings, a sense
Of deathly naught held like a notice frail
Warm hours are but a tease, as sparrows fail
To merrly answer, whiles I feign what hence?
Thin nonchalance, just as last night in tour
Where I "performed" sae poorly with a crew
Of local poets at the Lit Fest.  Were
Their kindness not Thy mercies, LORD, what through
Our vain hours should we answer?  Is't sae poor
I cherish 'gain these minutes I once knew?

27Jan18