My daddy always told me
I would catch my hair
with flames.

I bow down to the
little black toaster;
praising his holy name.

Oh! Let me give thanks,
little black toaster,
for you have now fulfilled my every need.

I huff and puff
on filter stem;
hijacked cigarette now all mine.

Blast it!
We've put our eggs
in the wrong basket,
and now Little Liberty has dropped them.

She's dropped them.
She's dropped them!
She certainly did,
She dropped them!

Each egg splits, cracks, breaks,
all despite Liberty's bleeding
colors. Faded, young
hatching prematurely;
before their time.

Liberty heard her love-
boyish ruckus in The Bush.
Hurriedly she did run;
giving all her aide.
Unfortunately, careless Liberty did not see:
All our eggs are handled irresponsibly.

Soon after little Liberty's Bush date,
she saw what she could only surmount to fate:
Poster slapped to said Holy Tree,
plastered with Allah's face.
Hating those jihadist anyway,
Ignorant Liberty unloaded her bounty-
upon the sacred man's face.  

It took a while
till Liberty thought,
looking down,
but by then,
we all thought it all too late.
But ,Little Liberty being supreme,
(totally Grade A,)
finally remembered to put the lid down.
Ah, now that should seal our fate,
her reasoning as she bounced and pranced away.

But just before she reached her people,
her sickness burst,
her pride was shook,
she couldn't show her face.
Afraid of what her people might say-
she reopened said lid, state of panic
flipped the basket promptly 'round.
All the little eggs crumbling to the ground.

Babies dispersed;
Children burnt and broken;
not to mention all the vital yolk;
nasty stuff and what a mess-
now onward to face my people.

But all is well;
she gives her spiel
about the alleged evil-doers.
People line-up,
hypnotized-
ready to give their last;
service, duty, and loyalty too
all for Little Miss Liberty.

Quite the siren, ain't she?

You stripped me down
to just my skin;
looked at me,
and behold!
You were unfettered.
You held me still
as I resisted;
childish,
leary of the water.

Not because of my sugar
molecule DNA,
but rather, the lack thereof.
See, I feared that the water,
so often uplifting,
would reveal my ugly tricks.
See, I feared it'd seep right through,
flow between a clavicle,
a cranium,
some ribs.

But persistently you did lather
with the patience of a saint;
washed the chunks, the stench,
the filfth and fear quickly down
a rusted drain.

When the fight in me
did subside, I'd catch you
out of slits to glassy eyes:
solemnly faceded,
but in bright pupils
I did see,
how you'd fallen for a sin like me.

Oh, and it hit me.
The nothingness that somehow held.
And I wailed.
And I cried.
And I bawled until my eyes bled.
And I thought of mother.
And of father.
And of baby sister, and of Craig.
But none of my injustices
Surmounted to you,
and your need to make clean.

And so you scrubbed
with a fever,
to cleanse my every spot.
You are my Savior,
my King,
my God,
and I love you
for every spot you worked
so hard to make
perfect,
For our family name,
I love you,
even if I seem to not feel
as claimed.