The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
      kitchen crooked to take a place in the light,
the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
      kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.

I began to feel my misery in pallet on floor, listening
      to music, my misery, that's why I want to sing.
The room closed down on me, I expected the presence
      of the Creator, I saw my gray painted walls and
      ceiling, they contained my room, they contained
      me
as the sky contained my garden,
I opened my door

       The rambler vine climbed up the cottage post,
the leaves in the night still where the day had placed
them, the animal heads of the flowers where they had
arisen
           to think at the sun

      Can I bring back the words? Will thought of
transcription haze my mental open eye?
      The kindly search for growth, the gracious de-
sire to exist of the flowers, my near ecstasy at existing
among them
      The privilege to witness my existence-you too
must seek the sun...

      My books piled up before me for my use
      waiting in space where I placed them, they
haven't disappeared, time's left its remnants and qual-
ities for me to use--my words piled up, my texts, my
manuscripts, my loves.
      I had a moment of clarity, saw the feeling in
the heart of things, walked out to the garden crying.
      Saw the red blossoms in the night light, sun's
gone, they had all grown, in a moment, and were wait-
ing stopped in time for the day sun to come and give
them...
      Flowers which as in a dream at sunset I watered
faithfully not knowing how much I loved them.
      I am so lonely in my glory--except they too out
there--I looked up--those red bush blossoms beckon-
ing and peering in the window waiting in the blind love,
their leaves too have hope and are upturned top flat
to the sky to receive--all creation open to receive--the
flat earth itself.

      The music descends, as does the tall bending
stalk of the heavy blssom, because it has to, to stay
alive, to continue to the last drop of joy.
      The world knows the love that's in its breast as
in the flower, the suffering lonely world.
      The Father is merciful.

      The light socket is crudely attached to the ceil-
ing, after the house was built, to receive a plug which
sticks in it alright, and serves my phonograph now...

      The closet door is open for me, where I left it,
since I left it open, it has graciously stayed open.
      The kitchen has no door, the hole there will
admit me should I wish to enter the kitchen.
      I remember when I first got laid, H.P. gra-
ciously took my cherry, I sat on the docks of Prov-
incetown, age 23, joyful, elevated in hope with the
Father, the door to the womb wasopen to admit me
if I wished to enter.

      There are unused electricity plugs all over my
house if I ever needed them.
      The kitchen window is open, to admit air...
      The telephone--sad to relate--sits on the
floor--I haven't had the money to get it connected--

      I want people to bow when they see me and say
he is gifted with poetry, he has seen the presence of
the Creator
      And the Creator gave me a shot of his presence
to gratify my wish, so as not to cheat me of my yearning
for him.

                                   Berkeley, September 8, 1955

Dark sheets
Of night
Cover the sky
Preparing
The world for sleep
Pray
On the lord our souls to keep
Prey
On the lower, sold the sheep
To beasts
Lost shepherd
Of the weak
Heard the herd
Is preferred rare
We’re a rarity
In despair
The air answers all my prayers

Silently
Whispers to me

.just, don‘t fall asleep.

It always speaks
Quietly
Morse code
Cold remorse
It wont ****
But instead instills
A breeze that peaks
Over the window sill
I stand still
Feel the chills
It fills the ceil
Creates a seal…
The wind stays
To make me stay
Awake

It captured fate
Encapsulates
Then decapitates
What’s ahead
The future… evaporates
I gave away
Tomorrow’s day
Just to stay
Up

I Reached the skies
Left the life
And can’t relearn
How to return

To sleep…

Vien ici, ma belle,
Vein et me rejoindre
Alors qu'on peut reve ensemble
Sous la ceil de la nuit brillant.

Nous peuvons aller n'import ou,
Et quand le matin se reville
Nous serons encore ici
Dans la mer profond de la vie.

English Translation (sounds a lot better in french though)

Come here, my beautiful,
Come and join me
So we may dream together
Under the sparkling night sky.

We can go anywhere at all,
And when we wake
We'll still be here
In the deep sea of life.

You know I'm tired of playing this game
Always chasing the right girl away
All because I'm too blind and stupid chasing after the wrong
Why am I playing this ******* game
It's like I'm allergenic to the truth,
And just enjoy beating my self as if I'm slave
Like seriously what the **** am I doing with my life
Ruining it, maybe
Because I'm sure as hell ain't making it better
I mean look at me battle scares are bruises imprisons my body in the jail ceil in monopoly
Only if it were a game
But no, this real life
This is reality, what my life will be based off of
But stupid ol' me treat it as if it was a ******* game  
Why can't I get it through my thick skull that is not a ******* game
Am I retarted or just that slow
It is as if my ******* chained my arms to the **** floor and threw away the ******* keys
What the **** am I doing with my ******* life
Why am I throwing it away as if it is worthless tool
Am I really that much of a fool
Just sitting down on this stool watching the clock tic
What the **** am I doing with my life
No seriously someone please tell
Cause clearly I'm not bright enough to know

Morning sunshine mourns of an old age
A past time that lurks in the shadows
of his bewildered heart, trapped in a cage
The light sets upon the empty bottles
Darkening the depths of his gaunt less rage
Dripping through the window ceil,
the light glows upon the purple sage
The dust casts the lining of her
As his tears bleed along the page
The past rebuilds itself as if it were
Yesterday

Shredded gold and silver flakes
it’s all been sold, from land to lakes.
I’m running up quite a bill
stationed up on my window ceil,
bargaining with Bungalow Bill
asking for a discounted thrill.
Vacant roads and silent trees
these heavy loads buckling my knees.
I couldn’t walk one more pace,
not known to finish a race,
I’ll forfeit before taking last place
then blame my undone shoe lace.

Within a half awake state,
I scribbled explanations too late,
they weren’t worthy or close to justified.
I’m just a chaser to bait,
too far behind at this rate,
but I’m sworn to the end so I abide.

A Prism view or black and white,
soft morning dew, or a starry night.
Which one should I prefer,
if they both blend and blur,
I sought the opinion from her
but accepted the first to occur.

I’m under the tree, the one from our seed,
taught me to see but not to read,
so I decipher each calligraphic,
with details too specific,
undesired outcome so prolific
my mind allows me to trick it.

There was more life in the tears
that stood back waiting for years,
only to greet their moment on the floor.
Falling down while nobody steers,
halting the joints and the gears,
and I will cover the space under the door.

We will equally share this burden,
lights off and close the curtain,
I’ll hide my breaths within the thunder.
Hastily halt then proceed to hearten,
and though I’m still very uncertain,
I’ll let doubt pull and drag me under.

Boom boom bang*!
My lows are lowering,
my highs go thigh high
lower now. My ankles hurt
from the pressure.

I’ve got the need to sing
the blues, no lyrics, no rain,
just blues and sad clouds darkening.

The rain is falling now,
I’ve got the bucket out.

The mountains are building
higher too, I’ve got to work
My wings so I can fly.

My heart is beating loud,
my arteries are ready to
pop and bleed out.

Emotions rear, silently screaming,
burning from the inside out,
the storm is drowning happiness
but the steam is rising.

Happiness takes a break for now,
I’ll remember you I promised myself.

I left my candle on the window ceil,
where my poetry rests and awaits my
return.

Here I am in a slow burn,
the currents smoke and
rises in ashes,
as my wick flares and sparks
with doom blooming, as clouds
of smoke chokes me,
I am still breathing this
diluted air with little or
no confidence.

But I know I’m stronger,
I’m faster, I’m smarter than
before.

I am a natural born fighter,
my momma taught me well.

Never let the devil win,
I’ve got the cards, I’m
the string’s and I can sing.

Be brave, be proud, be loud,
stay strong and firm, like
a rock on the ocean floor.

I’m stronger now,
stronger than before.

I’m like a mountain, my
peek’s are sharp and rises
above the clouds.

©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton

The rhythm is whoopsie daisee. The
moment of the first bounce sets the
pattern of the wave.  It's like talking
to him when the rain poured on the
window. Up and down I tried to see
his face thru my tears.

It's like failing first grade and your
mother slaps you so your head goes
up and down and the wet drops on
your face are not enough to help
with the rocking motion.  It's later
on in your life that the attempt to
have *** on the water bed reminds
you of the day Aunt Ceil was there
and never a thought about why
my mother felt her world cracked
at my failure to please her. Their
conversation in French made me
dizzy.

I walked to the edge of the bed and
there were no dragons.  The waves
of the waterbed tried to hold me.
My back cracked and I rolled over
to try again to get up.  But you can't
have *** on a waterbed, in the
light of a single candle, The Eagles
playing in the other room.

I sank for love but love threw me
away.  My dried body simply was
no brace to the ****** of your moist
intentions.

The radio played on later in the
night.  Sleep drained me
and the announcer
played Claire du Lune…..
Through my sadness and my
loss I lie on the
bed waiting for you to come
back with the
****** Mary's.


But that was long ago and you
and the struggles in the night,
of the songs and the waves

are

gone.
.

Caroline Shank
5.20 2022

Put it in my archive
Don't get no tissues
Stack it up until I see missles
Praising the Lord has never been simple
I just went back like a dummy
If love was a drug I feel funny
I can barely get by
I still believe in him

Good boy ! Get back to the ceil
Get back from the pills
Keep tunnel vision like your heart was thrilled.