light socket
***** rocket
plain white pills
silver lockets

Hennessey
Tennessee
dollar bills
can I see?

government officials threaten to take away everything.
pay your taxes they viciously repeat.
uncle sam's pants have become torn and withered;
our money slipping and diminishing right before our countries eyes.
families soon have no home.
will we suffer from the same fact,
is there even an existing loan that can save us,
because the bills have made us broke-- flat.
too bad it was that car i crashed.
wake up calls seem to be a part of life,
and quite necessary.
so a mother of a friend asks me,
'Did you learn your lesson?, Because the universe will continue to hit you if you haven't'

The doctors say the pain will come and go,
my father reminds me, that i will reap what i sew.
a friend states, how did you not know?
i suppose i should be my own hero.
not relying on addictions that seem to be a window
to a place of pain and sweet sweet sorrow.
how did i not know?
was it the blind actions that made realization slow?
how did i not know?
i should have learned from past mistakes-- made a **** simple memo
how the **** did i not know?
so i close my eyes, let the anger subside-
i must let the peace grow.
change my thoughts, and the choices on my minds chateau.
before i decide to do something that may in the end lose my life;
leave me between hell and heaven-- in limbo.
how did i not know?

a change of personality
accepting the worlds gravity.
yeahhh.
i don't mind if it ***** me down,
it doesn't have to produce a frown
upon this face of mine.
a quick smile tells you i must be kind.
and truly, truly i have no intentions for me to not be.
i do believe one must treat others the way they want to be treated.
that way hate and rage will maybe be defeated.
so let the reservoir unleash the power;
why reserve the knowledge?
do you think ignorance is bliss?
do you seem to ask yourself
why me, why this?
ha. silly little rabbit, tricks are for kids.
so don't blame the world because it just exists.
it's foolish to ask silly questions like those.
i mean, honestly, can you see past your nose?
do you ever stop to 'smell the rose'
or maybe it seems to have another name.
one that dictionaries can't even tame.
and still we will point the fingers
since it's ourselves we don't want to blame
how did i not know?

:
It's true that God deserves the best... yet loves the Widow's mite...
That tiny gift showed Christ impressed... because He had insight...
He knew that she gave all she had... that she held nothing back...
At such a time when feeling sad... and things were looking black...
She humbles us, though unnamed still... yet Jesus loved her so...
For she obeyed the Father's will... her money she let go...
:
With empty hands, she walked away... because she gave her all...
She didn't merely kneel and pray... for one more miracle...
She knew that God deserves the best... that's why she was so brave...
Of course, she hoped that she'd be blessed... according to her faith...
Perhaps she heard the Saviour teach... and revelation came...
Yet He's the reason that we preach... God's Good News stays the same...
:
And should we ask for partners now... that they may too invest...
To Heaven's Throne, we humbly bow... since God deserves the best...
Disciples come... disciples go... yet bills must still be paid...
And so we keep you in the know... so you come to our aid...
For without you and all your love... our future would look grim...
We simply pray God grants enough... so you... help us... help Him...
:
Denis Martindale, September 2018.
:

The 352 Blues

this city treats the poor
with swift unkindness,
but if you peel your eyes,
you don't necessarily have to always
sing the ole 352 Bleecker Blues

the eyetalian storekeeper,
gives us morning java,
when we sing for him on the guitar,
The Star-Spangled Banner,
refills, if we add America the Beautiful

they say that heat rises,
but that don't seem true
in our third floor walk up
on rue 352 Bleecker Street,
the cold companion enters
thru the busted stain glass window

no matter, no cares,
we light the fireplace,
with wood and anything that'll burn,
we scavenged from the street,
pallets and newspapers,
rent bills overdue,
yesterday's 352 truths

at two AM, the cops, in their cars
cooping, fast asleep, only just us,
the johns, the ****** and troubadours,
walking the streets looking for
free stuff to burn

pass the hat for tips
next to the arch,
enough for daily bread
but we get our ***** and ****
for free, just for singing the 352 blues

even when down and out
on the village streets,
bleak on Bleecker street,
you gotta sing the 352 blues,
especially when you're
riding high and living cool,
down on easy Bleecker Street
in 1968
~~~~~~~
Before you ask me if this true,
save your breath,
the answer is
Which part?

1)
my wife came out of the shower
last month
still unwashed and dry as a bone
You’ve forgotten, she snarled, haven’t you,
to pay the water bill?

Ooops! I’d done it again!

2)
last Monday
she came waving her hairdryer at me
and she screamed;
You’ve forgotten, haven’t you -
to pay the power bill?

Ooops! I’d done it again!

3)
last winter
she was trembling
and she said, shivering:
You’ve forgotten
to pay the bill for the gas heating ,
haven’t you?

Ooops! I’d done it again!


4)
and yesterday
when I returned home from work
I found everything in the house floating -
the chairs and the sofa
and the oven and the dog
and my wife too, upside down
up there in mid air
And she hollered:
You’ve forgotten, haven’t you
to pay the gravity bill?
And she reached out for my neck
as I levitated too

*Help! Somebody
Help! Anybody
Help us get back
down to earth!

It’s like I’m chasing my dreams; barely moving, in slow motion. Stuck behind my own thoughts; too much commotion. Haters hating; my thoughts, their self-promotion. Got me, forcing my own hand; dealing with all these emotions. Learnt that; Love is pain, mixed together; a strong potion. People buying love;  turns out, the people around you; will surround you to crown and ring you- claim to fame, use the same to bring shame to your name too. One wrong move; they check you in; under the deck, and bury your mate too. Blood thicker than water, paper trumps the two. Everything comes with a price; the cost they expect it to be; You. So don’t trust people, whose nature is to consume; it's will be your doom.There’s no telling what they will do. The people that you love the most – have a different point of view; the closer they are; the more they assume; the quicker they are to move. Killing you over nothing; I know – I’m so confused.  Eventually, the truth bleeds through; warranted, your heart breaks too; Part two. Set the stakes too high, your right hand guy, will turn on you. Leaving you wide open; your back with an open-view. Those dollar bills, In God we Trust; one hell of a bluff- spending as we lust; because enough is never enough. Life is tough; Friend or foe; their all the same when **** happens; so it’s all good until the going get rough, then being good ain't good enough.

To be able to talk to you without no limitations. To be able to get to know you without hesitation. You are the one I LOVE deeply oh so intensively am willing to give my Life for yours if it must be. You are the Girl of my dreams ...she is beautiful her height about 5'7 her eyes hazel to honey brown at times depending on the day how she feels and the weather her skin as smooth as a baby's face the perfect tan a combination of 2 ethnic groups AA and Caucasian and not a 100% sure about that either. Her name I cannot give you it but her hair is oh so delightfully scentful her smile melts my soul right at the most intimate part of my sacred temple. She holds the Master Key to my soul and heart. She is my day and my night...she is the air I breathe in the morning light she is the presence I feel alone in the dark...my whole being revolves around her but she is a mystery to me since we never get to talk freely. I am bound by the chains of love and extreme attraction...to bad that I am just the Guy that works were she eats at...am just a mere abstraction.

I know am not an important person in her life or even got the type of class or status to be at her caliber. Nevertheless, I am the man that adores her I would give anything to converse with the Goddess that owns my very soul for I am lost in words describing her reflexion the only part I been able to see. I am so eager to see if the beauty that encompasses her physical being is similar to the beauty that reflects her spiritual being. Am also curious to see what type of personality she obtains but from her looks am sure she is far from my personal gain. Perhaps her morals are similar to mine...who are her friends what does she like...what's her favorite food? But am simply lost I don't know what else to say.

She hasn't come to eat at the Restaurant and am bummed out about that fact. Haven't seen her in a while...I wonder were she is at...perhaps enjoying life to the fullest with her BF that I have never seen. A man well established with high education and a professional job with a expensive car and lots of money...and then there is me a mediocre Dishwasher 2yrs of college but dropped out at 45 credits has student loans to pay...a cheap car to get me from point A to point B and a small tight budget that allows me to pay my bills and have a little extra to barely have fun in Life...so yeah...am here sitting alone it's 12:33 AM in my Mother's house having my 7 day vacation thinking about her...her then her and only her. She is the one who has conquered my heart but sadly I remain a broken mirror a pitiful reflexion of the shattered and scattered portrait of the lone poet who loved, loves and will forever love that one girl...that one day came into the establishment I work at and gives me light and hope but yet darkness and pessimism due to my failures in life and her triumphs in it.

Alone am here trapped thinking...what would be to have the honor to be her man and she my woman to love her caress her and care for her every need. A lone soliloquy of a soul in the in endless loop tangled in love but withering away due to the fact I am just the lonely man who may be the beggar the homeless and strained in the rain.

No where to turn no one to aid where has God gone to...I lost him somewheres.
©Franko the Christian Poet

its
the TV commercials
the fake ****
the campaign trail
the welfare recipients
psychotic shooters
bible thumpers
and athiests
salesmen
gangsters and
special interests
its junk mail
the court system
its the poor paying more
the ignorant
the scared
the recluse
the extroverts
the sales tax
the hospital bills
zombie ammo
beggars making more than me
nuclear threats
starvation
animal abuse
drug addiction
half assery
its the bullies
the police
its advantage
in retreat
the lies
the masks
the crys
the laughs
its all the ******* that ******* annoys me

Per-fec-tion (noun)
/ pərˈfekSH(ə)n/
noun

Perfection isn’t

An Endearing personality
That captivates all who see you
Paired with a captivating voice
Others look up to

Waking up every morning
With a smile on your face
As you walk through life
The embodiment of beauty and grace

Passing through
Day to day trials with ease
Treating the storms of life
As if they were only a breeze

That’s madness

Perfection is

Coming home to bills
Scattered across the kitchen table
Wondering if your daughter’s childhood
Will ever be stable

Having a face marked with
A new wrinkle line
Paired with your
Unquenched need for more wine

Not knowing if the tears will stop
Or where to run
When your best friend’s
Time on Earth is done

That’s imperfect

Over a steaming cup of soup
over a frosty mug of ale.
Over and over
I've seen those eyes
peer and
peek
and absorb and dart
and deceive.
Over the black and white tattler.
over the child's cartoons.
I've seen those eyes twinkle
and the sides of them
crinkle and the lines
that have grown little by little
like a map of small creeks.
Over a mountain of colorful bills,
over the worn Ulysses
you've
tried
to read
for years.
I've seen your eyes wander and water,
close gently like leaves falling -
zigzag to the ground.
Bang shut fierce, like an old Italian closing the shutters.
Over certificates
and instructions
and declarations.
Over pots of soup
or stews or rice.
I've seen those eyes.
More my eyes than they are yours
as I have loved them a million times
and I have searched for them through seas of faces-
and always light a lighthouse, find them
and through those eyes
a young woman glows.
Not the tired and weary woman I am.
Behind a latte's steam
he sits
and startled he looks up at me.
"You're deep in thought",
he says.

Sahn 12/29/14

i remember meeting you in the back of house, where your words were loose and wild. i was brining some guests plates in that needed to be cleaned after their meal. i got to talking with some coworker about some
******* coworkers talk about, probably complaining about some old lady who wanted truffle fries and only got regular fries. you had to chime in when there was a cadence with some ******* comment to display your manliness and status amongst your kitchen staff. that game always seemed counterproductive to me. you pinned me for someone i wasn't. i did the same to you. somehow along the way, between all your lewd remarks, we became friends. i believe it  began over our affinity for the Buffalo Bills. You said you liked them because they were the underdogs and you hated the Miami Dolphins. I told you they were my hometown team and you said "no ****. get the **** outa here. You're from Buffalo?" the way you said it lead me to assume you were from New York. You told me you were from upstate and missed it. I told you how much time my family spent up there in the summers, doing outdoorsy things. burning fires, drinking beer underage, walking barefoot through the forrest. we bonded. we learned a lot more about each other. you were divorced and knew that you could never love another woman as much as you loved your ex. she gave you two beautiful kids. she also took 3/4 of you paycheck and left you for broke. the rest you drank away with me when our shifts were over. you told me about your drug habits, and i told you about mine. i told you about my childhood and you said you were sorry. i helped you drive your kids to school when your ex wife was too busy. we got drunk and shot so much ****. there was a chip on your shoulder. there was a chip on mine too. i got to see you cry when i accused you of using again. i think you knew what i said was true. i came down on you hard because i had just lost two jobs, a girlfriend i thought would have my children, and someone that lived in your apartment complex crashed into my brand new car while i was waiting on you. we were on the way to get your kids from school. you knew i meant well but i could see the guilt in your eyes. i helped you with your kids a handful of times after that. we would get breakfast after and talk about work and women. after work we'd get ****** and eat at some small Mexican stand in 90 degree weather. i fell asleep at the wheel and totaled my car some time later. shortly after i left for tour and then you died. some secrets you take to the grave. thank you.

Take me up. Let the devil take me up, like the morning when we left ourselves. The ides are upon our lives, maybe backstabbing partners really won't pay the bills. The irreverent god, the irrelevant clause that speaks too soon, comes upon the midnight waning sky. Like the moonful of ham in the stock of the flesh, second helpings because I could not resist.

Pick me up. Pick me up. Like a devil born again in the flesh. Your womb is a rotten tomb of forced reclusion, I'm wide awake before I can even sleep. The Time, our heaven is pyre, we're in it now like you thought it had been. But the flesh never whispers when I tried to break it in, it only clung to me like pre-used clothing.

Write it up, tomorrow we make Japan. Tomorrow, the island is our vesper. Your nine lives have come, and you'd decided to trade all of your needs to please me. We intertwined into an elusive butterfly, you're dead inside my beak, chewy, squishy, crunchy meat. You're eleven but you've never tasted better.

Your lies are so stupid, I had to have you in supine. I had to lie to myself to placate me. I survived by being a witness to a life. A dusky, grayish shadow four feet yonder.

I

I'm trying t' find my ID.
I think I'm missing it.
This thing,
This bright, shining light,
It's hiding in my blindsight.
I'm swimming in mist,
Trying t' find ... "I"

First I'm living
In my crib;
Clinging wrists.

Flitting my crib,
I'm Shy
Crying, whiny twit, missing bitty,
With stinky kids, kicking kitty.

I'm missing my crib.

I'm piling thinking bricks with big kids.
Slimy, smirking ***** hiss 'n' spit.
I'm sitting still in ill-fitting shirts,
shirking sight.
Hiding might blind ****** kids crying, "It's billy!!! Skinny ****!!" 'n' smiling in fits.
"Try finding kind kids x"
Finding "whys" in rising minds.
My mind grinds.
I'm kicking tins, spilling drinks.
Sitting in IT,
Sir chillingly insists "it isn't "fly" spilling drinks! "Shy" brings skills. "Why" brings ills."
I'm still shy.

This crib's tiny.
Tiny minds, blind by bling.
Fit chicks with *******,
Thick ****** thinking with *****.
I flit this Brit ****.
Brisk flight,
I find "I"
Simply shimmying "ir(o)n lik(e) li(o)n in zi(o)n".

In Brit, I'm still shilling it,
Finding thrill in it,
Hiding 'til it lifts.
I'm brisk fixing it,
I'm hiding in drinks,
Finishing in clink.
Trying things,
High by night,
Slinking by, finding light.
Thinking "this is it!! I'm in!"
Tricky light. Light trick. Sight trick.
Lying in my mind
It's still ****.

Is it?

His birth...
This child is my kid!
This brill kid!
I'M in this kid!
Big grin :D

First kid is big kid,
Mid kid is silly kid,
Quickly hitch my Miss.
Third kid. This kid, this girl is my girl.
Brill kids!

I bring my bling by flipping kids thinking bricks;
Fixing bits in thinking ink;
I'm finding it stinks.
Kids drink slick skills.
My mind chills with mind filling drills.
Kids grinding, crying spills -
"Sir, it's **** innit?
With missing mining, missing mills,
Im plying skills by filing bills."

I'm plying skills with mind pills.

Mrs "I" is criticising my id
Im minding my Ps n Qs
Biting my lip
Fists tight, shifting slightly
Slinking nightly
This is ****
Hit slight hitch
Hit BIG hitch
"'kin *****!"
I finish with my Mrs

Kids split 'twixt cribs.
Kids trips fix splits.
Kiss lips ***,
"Night night x"
"Light?"
Click light.
Right, "night!"

I'm hiding my ills in girls.
IT pimps, swiping right.
Primp ****.
Minging swill.
Fit chick.
Swift flirt.
Flirt, kiss, flirt, kiss.
Big ****.
Tight slit.
Milky spit.
Wiping ****.
Hiding ***** sight in mind,
I find it sticks.

I drift

Stick tight
Fighting my plight
Grin
"It's 'right"

Missing my crib
My ID
I'm finding my mind
Sticking with it
Fighting silly flirting ****
Try finding inspiring sights
My kids
My crib
My Inking
My Writing
My mind
My eye

I'm kind

I'm "I"

When I was a kid I lived in a fairytale.
I had my parents, the king and queen of the kingdom
Who loved me unconditionally and doted on me; their baby girl
I spent my days chasing butterflies and trying to grasp on to those last remains of Summer
Before the Fall came
And oh what a mighty Fall it was

I was sixteen when my life stopped being all about fairytales and happily ever afters
And became a mixture of bitter hatred for this reality and yearning to revert back to those Summer days
But I can't, I can't reach those early afternoons playing in the sandpit of my childhood,
Or those evenings when I would run back to
a home cooked meal sitting ready for me on the dinner table.

And now as I wander ever faster towards the winter of my life, all I have is the memories.
They say you shouldn't hold on the past
But why not, when the present is burying you right where you dug the grave which you labeled the "good old days".
And the photographs on the mantelpiece come tumbling down as you begin to realize that mommy isn't perfect and daddy isn't invincible.

They're human.
And humans hurt, and they heal and they love, and they feel.
And never will there be a day when I look back and think, "hey let the past be the past"
Because now?
Now I live in endless agony, crippled by my fear of growing old; getting married, paying bills, and growing my family.
and facing the heartbreak that everyone has at least once in their lives.
If you're lucky, it's quick like the pain of a band aid tearing off your skin.
But if like me you're not, then I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for the pain and the slow burning ache that will settle itself in your heart and never leave.

Because sometimes,
A person will nestle a home for themselves in your chest and they will be with you all your life.
No matter what happens, even after marriage and children and all that comes with it.
You will grow old and in your last moments on this earth, you will reminisce about that love you lost all those years ago.
Not the one who got away-
But the one who never left.

To this day,
I live as a memory box
Constantly reminded that when you grow up, life's a ***** and then you die.
But you'll always have the memories to remind you that life was not always this way.
That sometimes, it can surprise you
And make you laugh like you've never laughed and cry like you've never cried.
You'll live like the uphills are mountains
And the downhills are cliffs to drag you back down to reality.


© Elle 2016

When I was in the lunch line at school yesterday,
a girl in my class was in front of me.

I was about to tell her I liked her style
when the stupid words that slipped out of her mouth
stopped me from releasing the compliment.

I kid you not, she turned to her friend and said:
"I wish I had the willpower to be anorexic."

In a society with glossy magazines,
weight loss tips,
and skinny naked models smashing adolescent
girls over the head with their frail ***** hands,
this is really how people think.

This is how the girl in the lunch line thinks.

But little does she know
that having the “self control” over food and calories
and the stupid number on the scale,
hovering under her feet in evil red numbers leads to absolute insanity.

Little does she know
that after she skips a meal for the first time,
she’ll already be hooked,
drawn in by the smiling faces of substantial women on the magazines covers
as she checks out her new diet pills from the supermarket.

Little does she know that the food she isn't eating will slow her brain more and more each day, simultaneously slowing her mental capacity to a grinding halt, unable to respond with a new excuse each time her family asks, “why aren't you eating dinner?”

Little does she know
her beautiful silky hair will begin falling out, her period will stop,
the pounds will keep shedding off,
her body growing slower and weaker until finally...
someone notices.

Someone notices her grades slipping,
her never ending daydreaming,
the way she chews her nails,
the space between her thighs holding her legs apart so they don’t rub together
in her new double zero skinny jeans
That slide off her hips.
Someone notices not only how empty her stomach is,
but also her eyes and her brain and even her veins
from self hatred and slicing insults into her wrists,
words like “fat” and “worthless” and “I want to die.”

Little does she know
that the time she now spends at the mall,
at dance class,
at school or with her boyfriend
will soon be devoted to lonely nights at the hospital hooked up to a feeding tube.

The feeding tube will cram nourishment down her throat,
but she won’t see it as that,
no she will see it as fat on her thighs,
her boyfriend’s refusal to touch her,
the laughter from her friends when they go prom dress shopping and she can't fit into the anything she tries on.

she'll sit in silence as her parents figure out what to do with her,
as they hunch over therapy bills
and doctor bills
and the hope that their little girl will be okay. She doesn’t know the look on her mom’s face
when she has to see her baby girl’s cut up thighs
to make sure she didn't cut too deep this time.

Little does she know
that eating disorders are not just a fad,
not some quick diet to drop pounds.
No, she doesn’t know
that once you’re in, you’re in in for life. There’s nothing “strong” about not eating for four days straight
just to feel lovely,
there’s nothing beautiful about weak bones and thin hair
and cold metal scales,
so stop romanticizing my reality.
You want an eating disorder?
Here, have mine.
Take them both, since you admire them so much.
Eating disorders are a deadly disease.
But little does she know that.
So all I have left to say to her is
“Good luck.”

Millions of people
work nine to five
breaking their backs
for disposable paper bills
and small copper coins
never realizing currency
cannot guarantee tomorrow.
The promise of another day
can only be granted by
a phenomenon we continue
to waste: t...i...m...e.

I'm so embarrassed for you, I just don't know what to say. But I'm sorry I sleep in every morning and I don't have to punch a clock everyday. I'm sorry you get home from work and you take off your kitten heels......and you're stressed out because you work 40 hours and he's gone and won't pay the bills. I'm sorry you thought about it but you were too weak. I'm sorry I make in a few hours what you make in a week. I'm sorry you're older, but we all have our time. And I'm sorry the height of your day is your nightly glass of wine. I'm sorry I gave a regular my number to tell him when to come in and tip, I've never seen him outside of work so I suggest you get a grip. I'm sorry but we both know the reason you call my phone isn't because of what I do. I'm sorry I'm not the reason you're separated, and I'm not the reason he's divorcing you.

Sunlight burst through my window
yet it don't make me happy, not me
I'm making the most of nothing
I'm just living in a world of dreams

Up and down like a ****** yo-yo
happy sad happy sad
I'm making the most of nothing
as nothing is part of this lad

Walking to the bank
I was a grey zombie
I'm making the most of nothing
a hollow heart a broken me

Paid my bills
broke my heart
I'm making the most of nothing
as nothing is what I'll be


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Sing, you said, of the happy path life will take
Of carefree, languid days and party-filled nights,
Of endless summers at our home by the lake,
Of Paris and Milan to take in the sights.
So (my arm around your waist) I tell you this:
Cinderella and Snow White both lived a lie.
There’s no fairy godmother or prince’s kiss,
No carriage ride to some castle in the sky.
I will sing of liverwurst and fairy tales
Of hopelessly clogged sinks and vomiting cats,
Of threadbare lime green carpet and hidden nails,
Of overdue bills and heated, pointless spats
And how a smile from you will make any care
Vanish like the dew into morning’s warm

1
two days ago
we argued about food
and my sweetheart
she moved out;
she picked up her pillow
and she slept in the next room

2
the next morning
we joked and laughed
as if nothing had happened
but in the evening we argued over
her phone bills
and that night she moved out
even further –
she went to sleep in the third room

3
this morning we laughed again
over muffins and pancakes and coffee
and at 9 pm
we shout at each other
room to room, bed to red
blaming each other about dinner
and she screams:
I’m moving out!
and she moves back to our room
where I am
and under the quilt
I whisper to her:
*I always knew
you’d come back to Number 1

To my kids,
There is so much you do not understand in your skins. I could give you some kind of divine download, fill that thing between your ears with everything there is to know but then what choice would you have to live free as I intended you to live? I gave you the earth and everything in it. I created you in My image that you see with your eyes " male and female as partners " not slave and master, and that part of you inside that you don’t see, deep in you, its that part that knows Me, your soul and spirit. It’s that place we connect. I surrounded you with everything you needed. And before you freak out, all you vegans, I created the animals and I killed the first ones so you would be warm and covered when you chose to walk without Me covering you. Clothes were totally optional. You had Me, you picked heifer…still scratchin’ my imaginary beard over that one. You chose… Sure, I had angels in full body gear standing around " but I wanted you because I love you. I want your companionship. I want your intimacy. I don’t want your laundry list of “He’p me GAWT, but if it’s the only thing you can give, I won’t turn you away. If only I could get past your religion, your doctrine, your fears where you could believe Me, all the crap you put each other through would simply be unimportant. Some of you scurry around and scream about me and my Old Testament, bad ***, flood the planet judgment and you totally skip the part about how I sent someone to you, just like you, a real human with real blood and real tears to stand in for all the stupid stuff you’ll ever do or have done. It was so simple, one death, one sacrifice and we’re all clean but you have to work it and manipulated it and qualify it until denominations and gurus and Oprah and Chopra have your minds so twisted you couldn’t see Me for who I Am if I sat on a unicorn, clothed myself in grape leaves, and led the Macy’s Parade. Don’t you get it? I’m not mad at you. I don’t hate you. I am Love and I am incapable of hating you. EVER. All I ever wanted is for you to simply love Me back. You gotta trust Me. You can’t look at earthquakes and floods and famine and the rise and fall of the dollar bill as punishment from Me. All this stuff is temporary, except you, and Me. We are Forever. This planet isn’t your Paradise, kids. It’s just your training ground. I have amazing plans for you. And the sooner you grasp that, the sooner you stop swallowing the pills and the cheap thrills and stressing over the bills, and wringing your hands over “My will” the better off you’ll be. Oh, and as long as I’m monologuing, get off the backs of my worshippers. I’m perfect. You aren’t. I’d rather have you getting together in my name and singing and dancing, Kids your praise, when you just abandon your petty egos and party before me, it makes my heart swell with all the pride a Father could have. I’d rather see you do that " with the mistakes and the fussing " than each one of you alone under a tree somewhere barking about our “relationship” or watching the church channel 24/7 and calling it “comin’ ta Jeezus. I created you to work together in my name. Don’t freak out so much about the name of the building or the color of the wafers, or the drums and piercings. I will know if you love me. Quit running, quit hiding, quit comparing yourself to somebody else, quit blaming everyone else for your own mistakes when you never ask me to help you deal… Quit asking me to “fix somebody else” because if they like the thought of being critter fritters for eternity then that’s their choice to make, not yours. I do not impede on your free will. I won’t impede on anyone else’s free will. You can’t earn it. I don’t give out gold stars for good behavior. You either respond in love, or you don’t. The only thing I crave is that you get it, really get it. I love you. Always have, always will. You can’t do anything, you can’t **** enough, you can’t lie enough, you can’t destroy enough, you can go straight to Hell if you want, but I am everywhere…even in Hell…I’m with you. Of course, it will be your choice if you want to refrain, you know? See? Once you lock in your answer, you don’t get to phone a friend…You have a choice even I don’t have, me the almighty, the limitless with a limitation…you can choose to love…For me? It’s not an option…because I AM LOVE.

Your Abba....

I have a beef with plenty of things. One of them is how self-absorbed we have become because of those **** cell phones. No, I am not a hypocrite. I own one. I cannot imagine not having a cell phone, for it comes in handy, especially when one is stuck on the road with a car that is broken down or if an emergency call comes. Though I know, from personal experience, how life was before cell phones. We survived.

I still have a flip phone. Yeah, I'm behind the times, I admit. It's just that I do not want to pay a higher bill. I got enough bills. Would I enjoy those extra bells and whistles? You bet! But like my car, I just am looking at what I need verses what I desire.  I don't want to google and go on the internet here, there and everywhere. I have plenty of internet use as it is, enough to say that I don't want to access it in a moment's notice.

So what has become of us? It used to be that the biggest enemy to being behind the wheel was intoxication. "Don't drink and drive",  a terrible problem. Now we are intoxicated on our technological toys. Texting and driving has become the new road hazard, comparable to *****.

Cell phones are everywhere, and people are on them like their lives depend on them. And do we really pay attention anymore? How about the person next to us who we may never notice? Our cell phones have invaded our need to be aware of our surroundings. It seems we are missing out on so much because of it.  

We would be lost without our precious cell phones--at least we think we would. I admit I am guilty. But sometimes, I'd just like to throw mine out the window and be free of the thing once and for all.

We enter the church and immediately
have to push through two dozen sobbing Italian women
dabbing dry eyes; their tissues only show
black and multi-colored smears. Amid the echoing
“Oh my Goawd”s, they lean down and kiss my sister’s cheeks,
but even in my best black cap sleeves, I am the taboo
to my cousin Janet, a woman as barren as the stone lot
in between her husband’s restaurant and Deihl’s Autoshop.

We find an empty pew, and watch as the men
stride down the aisle, contestants
in a cultural Miss America pageant where the wrong answer
gets you whacked. Their heavy brows
sink in condolence as they hand over stacks of bills,
every hundred becoming a pity penny
for all the moments Janet lost in her luxury-life
made shiny by diamonds and cars and fur coats
which can’t be cashed in for a second chance at a family.

The men have paid for the food, the china, the band
in the corner meant to fill the space of sadness—
a reminder that we live a lavish life.
My sister shifts in her seat and as a man walks
by she touches his jacket, and gasps.
He’s a god.

Quite tired and worn out
So?
I know there's nothing left to say
Alright.

Yeah, I wasted some time
And?
I understand I can be an easy prey
I'ts not right.

Sure, now I'm bleeding
Worries?
Ah, just a few new hospital bills to pay
Healing on the outside.

You know I might have been mousetrapped
Captured?
Well, some additional scars you may carve
I always put up a fight.

And the thing is, when you realize I got away
Sorry?
You are the one who will starve
I'll be alright.

I use technology to take me to a time when it only half-existed. In a blue-shell room of mega-pixel photographs and rolling news feeds, I can put on my headphones and disappear into an instrumental Sunday.

There are stamp collectors making their lazy way over beaten roads and disused railways. 'Surrender' only means to fall asleep and to leave your book as a hut on your bedside table. Where war may still go on and on,

but at least you don't have to hear about it. Show me the place where pine-cones fall and women stare across the river. Where coffee is for taste, and not self-medication. I want to walk bare-foot and feel thorns

toughen my heels, infect my blood with Earth or God or Any Other Name. We will **** in the bushes, singing those fragments of Leonard Cohen lyrics that we can still remember from times spent smoking in my room.

I can almost feel that pointless happiness. That location in a canopy to retreat when the bills are due, when the walls needs re-painting. When the neighbour strangles puppies and all you do is complain about the time.

I use new music set to old sounds: freed slaves living in the cross-hairs of tradition. White lovers breaking their hearts over guitar strings and harmonies, always a semi-tone apart. I find your hair on my pillow.
There is no technology in the world to distract me from that.

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I stand still, quiet, as I
allow the rain to envelop me.
barefoot, I begin to sense
mud and water squish between
my naked toes,
my feet become an earthly color
As they are taken over by
this soft wet earth.
I’m taken back to
memories of childhood days,
where my young feet, covered
in mud after a day of playing
mom sending out her warning
we had better not track
mud on her freshly mopped floors.
But I have grown, matured
since then, no longer
am I allowed to have such fun.
I must act like the adult I am.
I must worry about adult things.
The bills, the work around the house
that needs to be done.
There is no fun allowed
when you become “grown up”
But no matter, here I stand
in this rain, in this mud
like in the days of my youth
that has long since passed,
or so I thought.
For today I will stand and run
and squish in the mud
like the child I feel I am still.
Of course tomorrow says
there is a new doorknob
that needs to be put
on the bathroom door.