Sackcloth on the tenterhook
Birdfeeders or birdlime
What is above must be holy
Cause 666 is time

The letter kills unless it’s
Written on the human heart
The martyrs win their crowns
And another life to start

There’re fresh waters above the heavens
But the lake of fire must be brimming
We’re all in the fish tank
Whether we’re sinking or swimming

The bridal city made of jasper
Gives babies eloquent tongues
The beauty penetrates my bones
The crystal air fills my lungs

But while we’re still on earth
The ancient sinner waits
Mocking the ignominy of our flesh
And using us as bait

Emptied out his car.
Driving fast.
Driving far.
Distant shores.
Lots more scores.

Playing games.
Women's names.
Always the same score.
Just candy wrapped ******.

Your ship sailed.
Baby, just to let you know.
Your name's nailed cross my heart.
And boy you gotta go.
You're gone.
We're done.
You're undone.
To you my sweet.
Women are just candies.
In frilly dressed up boxes.

Playing games.
Women's names.
Always the same score
Just candy wrapped ******.

Biting bullets.
Cheerleaders.
Birdfeeders.
Dolls in dresses.
Peachy tresses.
Was your fault.
You opened the vaults.
Deserved just what you got.

Playing games.
Women's names.
Always the same score.
Just candy wrapped ******.

Face up to it sugar.
You ain't the only one
Women ain't for using.
This gal's selective
Deleted from her heart.
Removed him from her mind.
(c) Livvi

Home is in
The cramped spaces
Where couch and loveseat
Fill a room
Where the kitchen
Doesn’t fit
More than two people
And the dishes
Cleaned by hands
Of my mother
Smoking menthol cigarettes

Home is in
The cheap plaster
Walls so thin
You hear
A thousand tragedies pass through
At night when you are sleeping
Babies crying
Mothers crying
Everybody crying
No one happy makes a sound

Home is in
This endless wheel
Of poverty sickness
No one asked for
Or wanted
On welfare
Selling loose cigarettes
Forty ounce malt liquor
Six packs
Emptied
Friday’s hunger

Home is where
Old ladies rent
Single bedroom units
With no air conditioning
Alone with
Endless birdfeeders
And white bread
On the lawn
Out the window

Home is where
Hardwood floors are scarred
With rearrangement
Constant variation
Definitions shifting
Under orange parking lot
Floodlights
Obscuring night’s blessing

Home is where
I see into the lives
Of a thousand strangers
Never talking
Where children play
Identity games
In the park

Home is in
The Christmas lights
Strung on the windows
Carelessly by neighbors
Or in the wreath
My mother hangs
To signal autumn

Home is
Buttered bread and noodles
When there’s nothing else to eat
It’s a movie
You’ve seen a thousand times
And still laugh at

It’s the clothesline
My grandfather strung up
In the basement

It’s the gangs of children
That secretly run the streets

It’s in the identical faces
All spilling light
Out onto the pavement

Home is not a place
It is a collection of universes
All spilling into one another
Mixing in infinity
Blending forms

Home is the embarrassment I felt
When we turned onto my street
And the realization that
I’ve got it better than anyone I know

Home is where the world ends
And where we are all secretly trying
To get back to

snow falling on Seattle cedars
hummingbirds fly birdfeeders
Silence is for deep pleaders

                     sacrality