Where do we meet
    Oh! No He_*
Getting onto
the next courses
Oh La- La "Cheri"
K>ANSAS>>City
_ Prime spot pretty

 let's >- jump ))) To Love
Please raise the horses

What a skirt steak in her
Petticoat Junction
Going to Kansas City affection
Different tribe or breed
What needs to love me
tender Elvis meet Beavis Buthead
    More  T.L.C  
computer DOC Tick Tock
IRS taking a meat beef
chunk is everybody drunk
IOS what is really the meat
Business Politician Trump

Subscribe well done
Cooked or rare spooked
Taking a Spin City kick
She got canned and licked
The prime meat hot seat

The ******* who arrives
first class steak knifes
Ms. Pork hard chew 
Mr. Beans second rate
Dark pumpernickel
Saloon *******, he
is eating
The young tender
chicken leg

High five thigh? Hands
up Robin Fly
Save the meat "let it be"
  "Let it Be" Beatles
The beat Colonel deep fried
Grade A rare meat slicing

Eating in a board meeting
The pig meat market
of pricing

Doe a deer he loves
International beer
A very sensitive time
Slaughterhouse no way out
His poker face meets
potato heads beef jerky
Surrender Weds
maple smiles picky
The rich Syrup
Disney Mickey Mouse
Kansas City Wonder
meat house

The beauty of animals
"Moms kettle she is talking
to Parrots" meat
the market for rings riot
Six enemies making
6 rounds
Six servants 666 carats
Robin smiles heartily
"Campbells Chicken" little

He's the Beef Man stew
If you only knew
He's spitting tobacco chew
She peels the potato for the
meathead bad to the
T-bone Dachshund I Bone

Garlic knots heart of the
Sausage wearing the
meat corsage Superbowl
My sweet basil good soul
Grilling your bullhead
Pirate Ribeye steak pupils
Mr. "Billygoat" Bachelorette
Hair flat crepe Suzette

Moms Korean style fuss
coleslaw what a seesaw
Playing Porgy and Bess
 Scarlet the red rare meat
Rolling stone baking pin
Mississippi one or two
Under my meaty thumb

Comes in three-4-5-6- Lucky 7
-Crazy 8 furries
Nine meat ribs-10 babies
with bibs
Hungry Man meat when!!
Country plaid tablecloth
"Kansas Men" of the cloth
The Pig approval
Kansas City Mayor
new arrival

Family together eating
Don't eat our animals
Why is life so unfair
Feeding the poor
with cans
The bad cut of meat devil
this is not the "Grade A"
This is not a ring
circus trainer Bullseye

Robin coffee animal-friendly
Two peas in a pod I pods
  I tune like Gods
Were the luckiest people to have
animals  

The Floridian with dog murals
Palm trees green thumb
plants sunshine events
The symphony dog tails
of hunts
Whats to compare her twilight
eyes hold the moment stare
Talk to the animal's hearts care

South Florida
if you were a body part,
you’d be an armpit.

You’d be a bulged vein
on the side of a forehead
forever locked in a scowl
behind sunglasses.

You speak the language of horns
middle name, finger
blood type, combustible

You're a melting ***
that's boiled over the lid
sweating salt water at the brows
eyes red as the brake lights
in the maddening brightness,
you’re torrential daylight
heating nerves like greenhouse gasses
waiting for a reason to explode.

You’re a tropical motilov cocktail
no one can afford
2 parts anger, 1 part stupidity
full of yourself in a souvenir glass with a toothpick umbrella
You're all image

You’re all talk: the curse words
breaking out the mouths
of the angry line mob at Starbucks in the morning
You’re the indifferent silence
in the arena at the Heat games leaving early,
showing up late
due to the distance
from Brickell to Hialeah,
West Palm to Pompano
the gap between the entitled and the under-paid
a skyline of condos in a third world country
You’ve always been foreign to me.

You’re winterless, no chill
you attract only hurricanes
and tourists,
shoving anything that isn’t profitable
out of the way like post-storm debris
into the backyards of the Liberty City projects,
onto a landfill off the side of the Turnpike
Hide it beneath Bermuda grass,
line it with palm trees
if only conceal your cold blooded nature:
I see you.
You are overrun with iguanas,
blood-******* mosquitos
hot-headed New York drivers
not afraid to get hit

You get yours, Soflo
and you'll go as low
as the flat roofs of your duplexes
and the wages that can barely pay the rent to get it
latitude as attitude
temper as temperature
if you were a body part
I swear you’re an *******

south of the brain, one hour
in all directions,
I’d find you.
You’d impose your way
onto my flight to the Philippines,
to Seattle, to Raleigh
You’d follow me like excess baggage,
like gravity,
bringing me back when asked where I'm from:

That area north of Miami, I’d say
(the suburbs, but whatever, we are hard in our own way)
I'd show you off on their map
like some badge of grit,
certificate of aggression
I know how to break a sweat
walk brisk, drive evasive
ride storms in my sleep
I know you, I’d say,
“He’s a friend of mine.”
and I’d watch them light up
and remember
the postcards you've sent them
of the sunrise,
welcoming brown immigrants
onto white sand beaches
You were foreign to us
yet raised us as your own
in the furnace of your summers
iron on iron, the forger striking
softness into swords
built for survival
I'm made of you

my South Floridian temper
cools down
in your ocean breeze

if you were a body part,
you'd be a part of me
a socked foot in an And1 sandal
pressed to the gas pedal
as my drive takes me north
of your borders, far from home

I see you
in the rear view mirror,
tail-gating
like a sports car on the exit ramp
the color of the sun.

I’m not good at being forward
I have this habit of becoming disordered
I let my emotions change the color of my sleeve
In my aspirations I hope to find belief
I walk through jungles and rainforests
Once in a while I see through the canopy
Into the skies of my memories
And request that stars dance to the rhythm of us
I keep them alive to avoid the gathering of dust
My memories, caught in the Pensieve of your eyes
Have ignored all the times I told myself lies
I may not be your ideal Superman
But I’d accept Peter Pan if you’ll go with me to Neverland
I’ve rarely been so captivated by a girl
Sure, Zooey Deschanel is quirky in New Girl
And Emma Watson bewitched me from the start
Anna Kendrick was perfect in Pitch Perfect
Alex Morgan is the luckiest 13 I’ve ever seen
But I choose you! To fill my canteen
You quench my thirst when the loneliness dries me
I was not made to walk in a desert
My heart is an amphibian
Living like a Floridian in the ice-cold tundra we call Rexburg
You still need the sun, no matter how much it snows
I’ll trudge on in the jungle; dormant in the night
I’ll carry on with you in mind, until the time is right
Once I’ve faced death, or even a spider
Then, I think I’ll top the greats; George of the Jungle, Aslan, Mogly, Tarzan, Batman, Peter Pan, Harry Potter, Genghis Kahn, Michael… Jackson or Jordan
They’re all kings and I’ll be in their league
As I shake off the fatigue and find courage in you
To make it through the awkward moment of simply saying
“You’re a real kind of gorgeous”
In that chorus, played on my rhythm of heartbeats
I found my way out of the back streets
From deep in the jungle I’ve come to know as Fear
A jungle that disappears when your presence is near
Sometimes I have to stop walking, stop thinking
I feel like I’m on the verge of something spectacular
Anything normal might ruin that

Each sorrow is the child of a happiness
you thought would never end;
Every happiness is a sadness
I may not survive—
a brilliant October day
lying back in dock hammock suspended
quoting bits of Rilke and starlight anthems
the shadows cast by buildings and frogs
ink drawings made on August nights
by our beautiful chain-smoking artistette
admiring a giant spider friend who’d
spun her majestic web and vanished
while we were swimming
backdrop of bay and boys and cherries
creaky boardwalks under bare feet
and stickiest pine and sand darkness
photos over wing clouds below
creepy call to prayer from ancient Mosque
at twilight punctuating strange dreams
perfect reconciliation on hotel balcony
McDonald’s after soaring from Black Sea
to Bosporus Straight, edge of Asia
visible on the horizon and all of life
a nightmare from which I can’t get woke
terrorized by ***** donor bonesaws
homophobic maternal afternoon rejection
peace that passeth no understanding
when you’re a ******* genius or just
a few points lower sorry never enough
compassion leaking through pores
drawn out by steam more darkness
Eucalyptus perfumed
another flaccid experience on a stranger’s
bed recalling Hippocrates on the drive
away after more bad ***
shots of sauces and grilled roasted
poached lentils bespoke chickens finery
malodorous wafts limestone smoothed
by centuries of acidity oily tourist touches
but they’re in Mexico Australia India
we’re back at home twins calling
each day an error of time rounded off
the incorrigible quark refusing
to cooperate with Einstein choosing its
own entangled path and lighting fools
what beautiful skyline
what amazing celebrity capture
what nostalgic group assemblage
what **** cute puppy who’s no more pup
what swanky tailored look
what smiles what smiles what seriousness
the soft and supple features curves lines
practiced looks and wayward hairs
a simple flourishing according to the lens
so much that skin conceals and eyes
beer garden sidewalk orations
wedding after party for April fools
we were who dance grabbing rings
swinging wildly discussing the vulgarities
of gastronomy and digestion
tumbling into diners midnight offices
brick lined streets magical talks
demonstrations and ideas unbounded
carving pumpkins into likable politicians
we think are statesmen and wailing
when she loses winning a trophy case
buckling under weight of moral victory
the thought of skyscrapers lit
shining under heaven unsubtle insinuation
we’re better than all this nonsense
and stronger having raised this glass
and steel by our own hands, our parents
rather now maybe that’s confusion
erecting higher stairwells to escape
encroaching seas and bums below
all memory all happy every laugh
each rumination on the hours
kisses cocktails cuddles laughter
that perfect vest completed outfit
those thrift store jeans that shirt
that secondhand one speed bike
those lunches with the priest
those brunches with the students
those happy hours with the coworkers
those dinners with the beard
all interchangeable parts in show
theater of recollection one subway car
one taxi ride one bus to NY or DC
one flight to Seattle or Vegas
or some Floridian seascape, mansion
each cog or bit like paper currency
imbued with no value but buying
the totality of lived experience
from which to draw upon in sad elsewhere
—but they cut deep, well meaning though
whenever was now isn’t and can is blind
to what day will ever be when I can say
in truth now sadness isn’t.

Mississippi, down to louisiana
Prowling new Orlean's
Than a right to Alabama,

Than I'll trip to Florida
In the vehemence by the bay
Catching the jellyfish view
And the Floridian way.

This morning, out in lightly falling snow, I heard geese
as flights of them flew overhead. Like a shot
I was ten again, Grammy and I at the lake. I’d sit in the bow
of my canoe, pulled awkwardly ashore, neck craned back to watch the sky.
I was always sad to see them go; their calls so many cold goodbyes.
Ice encrusted water slushed against the dock in slow motion waves.

It was time to seek new horizons, where waves
of Floridian waters would embrace the geese.
My grandmother said that every new adventure started with goodbyes
to one thing or another. If I were ever to have a shot
at following my dreams, there’d be farewells as I reached for the sky.
Instinct would lead me onward to my accomplished bow.

One year Momma and Poppa Goose stayed behind, a nest in the bow
of my boat. The wintery sky turned black with departing waves.
They would call out as the flying ones filled the sky.
Wounded wing grounded Poppa. (Canada geese
mate for life.) Momma would not leave her mate, recently shot
during hunting season. She would not yet say her goodbyes.

This, then, was the winter of no cold goodbyes.
Before school, pony tailed hair with ribboned bow,
blowing in the stiff breeze, I’d take a shot
at keeping ice from the edge of the lake, waves
arrowing out as they swam. The geese,
with an itch in their wings, anxious for a return to their sky.

That summer Poppa introduced his flock to the sky,
practiced formational takeoffs leading to goodbyes.
Clouds overhead gathered gray with unfallen snow as the geese
took flight. My two watching for a moment, dipping heads in an elegant bow,
before joining in the aerial ballet of strong winged waves.
Grammy’s strong hand gripped my shoulder, then-- the parting shot.

Grammy joined the geese beyond the horizon. No miracle shot
or endless love could keep her with me. Heaven was in the sky.
I knew she was watching although there’d been no time for final waves.
Her new adventure started without time for goodbyes.
Outside, snow blanketed as I cried myself to sleep. Her final bow
had been silent, but she’d been telling me, as had the geese.

Overhead the geese are shaftless arrows shot
from an instinctual bow piercing the morning sky
with their raucous goodbyes. Time waves.

People ask me all the time what my major is, what I’m going to do with my degree, as if that somehow defines me, somehow is a mold into which I should fit. As if being a teacher, a doctor, a lawyer, a mechanic, or a nurse makes me real; as if calling myself a statistician, a technician, a psychiatrist, an ophthalmologist, a zoologist, a gynecologist, an herbologist is any more definitive than calling me by name. Because somehow the letters AA, BA, MFA, LDS, EE, DD, or PHD are supposed to make me who I am.

I cannot be defined by the classes I took or the papers I wrote or the tests I failed. I am far more complex than that and I refuse to be satisfied with a label, so when you ask me what I’m doing in school, what I’m going to do afterward, and I tell you I’m gonna teach home economics, don’t look at me like I’ve gone off the deep end, like I’m wasting my brains and wasting my time and wasting my money, like I’m negating every feminist victory and reinforcing female stereotypes. Don’t look at me like I’m never gonna make a living, never gonna make anything of myself, because it’s my brains and my time and my money, my living and my self.

And how else can I be, how else can I fit my definition if I give in to the pressures of you, the pressures of him, the pressures of them, the pressures of it, and do what someone else thinks is right for me because they want me to be defined by what I do instead of who I am. I am a girl who snores when she’s sick and hiccups after she eats. I’m the girl who dated your youngest son and had a crush on your older brother. I’m the wild woman in love with her mountain man. I’m the girl that is sometimes eloquent and often awkward and twice as likely to hug you as shake your hand. I am the adult who eats peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with a tall glass of ice cold milk and the Floridian, who if offered a slice of pea-can pie would say “Don’t you mean pe-cahn?”

I’m the girl who loves to cook and cooks to love, and if you don’t know what I mean by that think of how a homemade meal makes you feel and then get back to me. Sometimes I’m the girl who crochets and is learning to knit, but I don’t know if I like it yet. I am a victim of the techie generation and I am helplessly addicted to facebook and youtube and myspace and stumble and twitter and flicker and all of that stupid stuff. I am a ****** who loves movies and has to get there early because it’s just not the same if I miss the previews and I’m the girl who loves to eat but hates to exercise and always complains about her flab.

I am the daughter of a sweet southern woman and a hard working ex-Marine and I am the sister to the brother who is almost taller than me and the granddaughter of the four most amazing grandparents you will ever have the chance to meet. I’m a family and consumer science major who loves biology and algebra and is fascinated with the manipulation of words and sometimes sings a song or two and used to play the flute and is practicing piano. I’m the girl who works in the weight room and turns on the light when you come to play racquetball in court number three and mops up those scuffs you left because you didn’t wear non-marking shoes. I’m the neighbor at your apartment who’s always sewing late at night and parks her car in your space.  

I’m a best friend, a sister from another mother, a daughter, a niece but not a nephew, one day an aunt, a roommate, a one-time lover, a student, sometimes a teacher, a cousin, an employee, a visitor, a customer, a someday-degreed-and-lettered member of society, but before that, during that, and after that, I am Jennifer Marie Cassell.

i see you in the dark, my darling
waiting on edge in my front yard.
i float to you engulfed in flames
preparing for a bittersweet broken heart.

was it something that slipped
from my liquor stained red painted lips?
or casper herself casting a long shadow
on your barren sahara grey walls?

how long did you know that you'd leave me?
since the last time we made love
and you slipped back into the darkness
through my window without a parting kiss?
or did you know from the very beginning
with your white corvette crystal lies?

i remember the way you fought with me
in my bed, pushing me hard to the ground,
and my heart breaks with the death of the day
to think that i'll never hear your voice again
or your low groans or feel your fist wrapped
like a diamond necklace around my throat.

you haunt my dreams and i cannot sleep,
your shadow still waltzes around my room.
you're larger than life, my burnt out elvis.
they all told me you were a big time dealer.
siesta key was once your home, but now you ride
under the radar in your cool crimson beater.

prison called and your empire almost fell,
but you can't **** the king of floridia,
for he rules the dead straight from hell
without mercy; better take what you're dealt.

pretty kitty, always ocean blue and starry eyed,
baby's a god, heaven found in my cherry pie.
queen of hearts always knows what's on your mind;
i know you'll come around again and then you will be mine.

there is a modest
one-story home
with white stucco walls
and a red tiled roof
waiting for me somewhere
near a floridian beach.

the yard is flat and dry.
some days, i’ll lie there
on top of a patterned quilt
in a two-piece
hand over brow
reading a thick memoir
on loan from the library
that sits on the other side
of the brush, beyond
the wooden fence.

winter will just be a memory.
every week, my toenails
will sink into the sand
wearing a different shade of pink.
i will not fold away
my sundresses and shove them
under the bed.
they will only leave
their wooden hangers
to be worn and washed.

time simply records the falling
and growing and falling of things.
one of these days,
i will be the budding lily
pushing up dirt
to greet the other side with
all of the beauty
i am ready to be.

i have fallen enough.

An angel of war sends me photographs, black and white.
                                                          ­          I surrender, so we

chew on Floridian palms, the majesty of loons,
                             and how to capture the moon.

I've hidden his photographs behind a mask that hangs from my mirror,
                            where I spend hours rehearsing
                            how to disappear.

Eye do look on that day with anxious yearning;
                                      his epic
                                      return to the void,

because a tug of war is always easier without handling the rope,

and I cannot force his wings closed. I cannot soften the blow.
                                                 His motions
                                                 like ocean tides,

so strong and so slow.

The Victorian ladies bubbly
Her back-hand-fly Hubby
At the back wing, he had her
high swing voice pls another
try Oh! my he's mouth dry
The aircraft of man
The spell lift oh! ****
Grand slam fascination
Had their private
back room with the singer
Tina Turner the rolling river

Don't be a two-faced wing
Not left in the back feeling sick
On your back burner- Goes-flick

Wing debate became
The revelation who
will back up
your words
We need stronger wings
of communication

Recount music reverberation
Catches my butterfly
Butterfly tip nails
Say goodbye to the messenger
The back Man Voyager
The trip candlelight lover
Butterwing lobster red-fish
wing hippy hop sing

The tower Trump
She had a collection
of stamps feeling
Larger than butterflies
in her stomach

One of a kind muscle's
No  bumps the best
butterfly kissing

The Tattooed was a fraud
The bash the wings all clashed
Around the bend, they
left one wing not to be fooled
So heartbroken more that
meets two wings
to be eye spoken

Life is complicated
Butterfly Malabar
Your eyes cried every
night in the daylights
I never stop to
wing him book-nights

How she phoned
I saw his light starry-bright
The North Star
The banded Native
New Yorker Hub

The gift of gab
All wings of disorder
Rehab more lovers
What wings to order
She's Fragile heart
He's fly by night so
domineer
Buttercream cake was
the best year
Every emotion high-gear
Bewildered by wing's
Wrong time to be
Glancy with her sigh
Always high in life

Not to be the burden
But why such big
production
The backyard mansion
But down to earth
butterfly takes flighty
fashion

The Lotto money rolling
But I  stay flying__
Butterfly bedtime
The sticker Honey
lullaby Airforce

Army-green but her
honey eyes bitter-fly
course
The back of her
butterfly dress
He was impressed
At her best not to
be married

The Cosmo
Morpho one
Zebra longwing needed
a short circuit to pursue
her  long wing___*
engagement
Ms. Chicken
Got burned so many wings'
What an embarrassment
Sapho longwing Sax

Milestones away Mexico
hot humid  outwinged
Maybe the print was forged
But Sage flower colorful warm
cocoa browns so dazed
Kachi Polo suits
She is wearing the butterfly
pin she was backed away

The Bed-put up his front
So tucked in
He had an extra wing
The trousers melody
Madame Butterfly was in
What a blessing of the sing
They were eating like
babies butterfly flounder

Wing talk became flighty
inflictions without
her medication
On her butterfly tablet
Such lucidity of visions
Made quite the
Butterfly reactions

Like the Aphrodite Queen
with Greater love diction

Syiphina Glasswinged
butterflies names
Try the eighty-eights
Of courageous wings
of fame play eights
one summer he screams

He came to see her in four
love generations
In his sunshine
Floridian hummer
Not the ****** birds
In the norm Palm trees
Met the butterfly storm

Ceylon Rose endangered
The Habitat off
With their hats

With her Man and her
butterfly hat she waves
and asks to sit in another
lower back sting
She just hears his
voice and sings

Naughty Bougainvillea
flash
their gypsy red burgundy parasols
like Creole maidens
from New Orlean French Quarters
their wild beauty
adorns Floridian gardens and
ocean courtyards

But, they are no match for
the Queenly Gardenia
Her soft, ivory, alabaster *****
exudes a scent found only in Paradise
As she unfolds her exquisite, royal,
Saraswati petals
I wait blushing with bated anticipation
for a whiff of Heaven itself

I met an Eskimo heading South
Asked him what that was all about
He told me to cool my heels
He'd had enough of frozen meals

Passing through the Northern states
Spent a day in Bangor Maine
Got out of there post haste
Before the cold froze his blubber brain

From there headed down to Tupelo
But Mississippi was still to cold
Spotted a bit of roadside trash
Where he found a Florida map

Made his way down to the warmth
Florida and bought a farm
Now grows pecans whale big in size
Where he puts them into pies

Set up a country roadside stand
Oranges and fresh pecans
RC Cola and Eskimo moon pies
Right along the ocean side

When he's not picking nuts from the trees
In the sunny heated down South breeze
Sporting the best in bronze tans
It's good to be an Eskimo Floridian

Found on the beach this morning
by New Floridian tribesman
were sea-softened pieces
of the torch
the stone lady held
ages ago
before we found out
that freedom was just as imaginary
as any other silly idea we've ever had.

They propped them up
against what was left of the old Mouse-Man monument
their edges touching in a way
so that they may together provide shade
to any passing child of the wasteland.

You are lightning bolt.
               (electric shock to my skin)

You taste like
                   hot
          floridian
                         summer
Sound like
                  thunder storm
                                falling
                   ­                        on dry asphalt

And I want to tell you
you felt like homecoming
                       (even though you were always leaving,
                                                    and i was never staying)

I saw the flowers in your mouth
          and I wanted to taste them
                     wanted to take them for my own
  but I wasn't ready
                       to be
                  selfish
            with you
                       yet.

Perhaps we'll meet
again in a city
                                       much larger
                                          than ours
And I'll fall in love with your flowers
                                              again
*(and­ perhaps this time,
                                I'll let them grow)

Something about gunfire.
Somebody says religion.
It’s an opportunity for the TV
to screen the same scenes,
the blinking blue and reds
of a bevy of cop cars
and the spooling headline
that assumes, then confirms
the worst.

And so strangers from all corners
spew their pennies’ worth
like bees fumbling for honey,
thousands of hypotheses
replete with exclamation marks,
the name of a Floridian city
swelling as a violet bruise
in the aftershock,
plunged into uninvited limelight.

The chief claims a ‘lone-wolf’ attack,
a man who loathed rainbows
then wiped his own life.
Talk swiftly turns to guns,
the increasing frequency
of wicked bloodshed,
the how, the why, the ‘this day and age’
and ‘the world isn’t safe’
and the nothing, still nothing is done.

Just one night before,
another tragedy,
a young singer shot
while signing their name,
fans left to clasp
the musical remnants
of a life snatched away,
the acerbic word ‘******’
in a nonsensical second.

Something so horrid
became something so common.
How many more gunshots
must shatter a night?
How many more families
must crumple like newspapers
peppered with headlines of the recently lost?
They are asking for answers.
We wait for them to come.

We stand on the bluffs above the breakers, watching the sea foam swirl like the madness of our broken world. We linger. The dense feeling of fate pervading us. The unbreakable diamond line tethering us to the crystalline moment, frozen in a picture, put in a box, never to be seen again. The wind blew and a pinprick shift in movement, insignificant as an eyelash, brought down an empire made of ash.  We walked those charred triumphant streets, riddled with rotting bouquets of flowers from yesterday’s parade. It was time to take comfort in strangers. She turned to me, “I want love like the ocean, it always comes back”. I think of her floating on the Adriatic contemplating our blossoming love, croatian street art, and holding her body close as a baby in the floridian waves. Now a million shards of glass laid lost on the savage sea floor, mirrors reflecting a thousand truths, hidden from her eyes by the churning tide.

Words don't matter anymore. I scream in frustrated contempt, “Why are you acting crazy! Why are you disturbed? Where is redemption here?” It is gone for now, a dog running wild in the woods. I wake up and try to explain the unconsciousness, but it’s like singing to a self possessed crowd in a run down karaoke bar. Grasping at cigarette smoke.

My last act of friendship could be to obliterate you and expose you for the liar you are. Instead I will let silence settle over any righteousness I feel, any angle of truth I claim to possess, letting the birds sing their songs for us, and the thrum of the world will hold me in its arms.  I will release the great burden there alone. “There are things I can tell you, and there are things I cannot say, I hold nothing against you, I forgive you.”

“You are a child, I do everything for everyone, I give everything, and everyone just takes from me!”  She viciously hisses in another’s voice, a harpy sent for blood, *****, and sacrifice, lashing about with claws meant to tear out the heart of man.

“I may have a child’s heart, filled with infinite forgiveness. I may be a flawed man, but I won’t turn from that truth, in it is wabi sabi beauty. I’m not seeking to rationalize or justify my actions, the past doesn’t interest me that much anymore. The feeling you give me now is a toxic one, like a ****** hitting rock bottom, I want the poison out of my veins.”

More screaming. Rampage, wrath, hell fury and doom. An **** of anger directed at my peaceful countenance, an all out assault fueled by brimstone, baiting the Buddah under the bohdi. My murderer is my muse. The citadel is overrun again by the Amazonian hordes set for the massacre, spear point to throat, mutilating the glinting marbled halls, painted red. So **** me now, my quiet pride and solemn truth are unassailable. You lob bombs at an iron sky. One built after years of hellish wildfire to bring down Zion. Yet the walls drip with life, you can taste it in the air. The overcoming of emotion, like fresh white clouds drifting above bloated bodies floating dead on the burning acrid water. And maybe only a dry heart pulp remains in the humid sun, but I don’t think so, there is juice here in this soul, the nectar is still sweet, tempered by age. I bite my tongue and laugh at the helplessness of love gone wrong, a faux pas matched only by a priest farting at a funeral. I wink at death, clapping and singing songs with a final gasp, we die like Hector dragged in the dust.

Days later, she writes a mixed apology. Staking a claim on humanity. Can she see into her own eyes? Does she know the past as I do, can she own her duplicity, her renunciation of all that she claims to hold dear? We were one once. Symbiotic, duads, all I did, she did, all I was, she was. Blame still taints my heart.

I want to strip off my clothes and howl in the rain, as the forest sends thunderous chamber hall applause to my release. I want to howl for the toil. I want to howl for the ecstasy. I want to howl for all the unrecognized love, all the unfulfilled expectations, the selfishness, I want to howl for the sacrifice, and the collapse of return, I want to howl.

Somewhere, does my scream still echo? A voice on the radio answers.

“Those things you keep, you better throw them away. You want to turn your back, bury your old ways. Once you were tethered, and now you are free. Once you were tethered, well now you are free. That was the river, this is the sea!”

I walk around a drafty room, hugging myself like a crying orphan seeing all the doors closed on the last day of autumn. If I can make it through the biting winter; holed up somewhere in an abandoned hollow, hands in ratty brown clothe gloves, patched pants and ***** scarves, spring will be beautiful, and I will lay in fields of burgeoning new blossoms. A thousand times Odysseus.

I witnessed a previously unknown apostle ministering to the self imposed deaf at Daytona Beach , shouting out the gospel to vacationers that moseyed down Capitalism Avenue , a souvenir committed to memory  just like the pelicans , white sand , salt water taffy , dining at Joe's Crab Shack on fish and chips , the ships returning home far off in the distance , trinket shops lining the streets ..
Two guitar players performed on the pier , hopelessly out of tune and a bit tone deaf in my humble opinion ... Shady characters roamed the shore selling condo's by the score , seagulls knew I had tangerines and wouldn't leave me alone ..
The waves crashing into shore caught us off guard and ruined a two hundred dollar camera , a fifty five mile drive back to Orlando took us two **** hours !
Mickey Land was turning money hand over foot with eighty degree temperatures at the end of December , the boats on her canals were the high point of my vacation , cranberry juice on the veranda overlooking a par three provided a treasure trove of entertainment , men and women penning their frustrations over that little white ball with a mind of it's own , looking right and left before cheating like anyone really cared ..
People watching on Boardwalk , a cup of tea at Old Key West , a riverboat jaunt across Lake Buena Vista , a fried seafood feast at a local restaurant ..Such is the life of the temporary Floridian .. Sun screen , ruffled road maps , cool shades and Palm tree dreams ...

When was the last time I felt like this
This curious euphoria, this eagerly learning bliss?

Thinking about it, I've felt it before
The first time being when I was four

When I had tried my own little tests
An encyclopedia convinced me that science was the best

And then again when I was six
I saw a table in a PTA mist

And I became a Brownie Girl Scout
Because I liked badges and camps and helping others out

And when I reached the age of seven
I picked up a violin and found heaven

And in middle school in a Floridian vale
I felt that same rush when I learned how to sail

And in grade eight in the city of Detroit
I found my passion with my activist's voice

As an underclassman, my heart reached new highs
Hiking up to touch the Shenandoah skies

There's been so many choices that I've made
That exhilarated me and made me who I became

And feeling this now as I first try to code
I know I've found a new passion for my mind to download

I remember the death of my best friend,
I know that's somewhat hard to say.

A simple walk down that dark street,
A drunk driver speeds away....

I remember watching the red tail lights,
The license plate I could not read

Daniel was his name, Smoothing King was our game
Then he was turned into nothing but street.

I remembered the very next year,
After all Daniel died in twenty-zero-three

A little prank that went to far,
A firecracker I threw at people's feet.

I remember a storm, God's wrath had in hand....
Brought me to my feet...

I remember my friends faces
The storm had washed them away

And I remember packing my bags,
The goodbye's I never got to say.....

She took my home, mustered with clutter it lay
My friends had past, their bodies amast with muck they lay....

Katrina was her name,....
Pain was her game, sufficed that was to say.

I remember our trip to a new home
A Floridian I was now called to be

The trip was but four hours
More like four years it felt to me

I remember starting my third grade year
The title of the school was "OBE"

It was nothing but bullies, mean teachers
They honestly could not teach

And I remember the torment
Punches, kicks, and being beat.....

I remember my transition,
A place much nicer to me

A breath of fresh air to **** my despair,
My new school was "GBE"

Full of friendly new faces and people like me
I was now called a friend and that's how it started for me

I remember my recruitment,
A Junior Ice Pilot I was to be

The feeling of sliding, from the ice I was gliding
My blades froze from the freeze...

Yet still I was gliding, the cool breeze colliding
Flowing throughout my gloves and stick,....

I remember always stopping to get a drink at circle k
A polar pop to quench my thirst....

The ice kept me wheezing, my head was still freezing
All that time on the ice was in rememberance to yesterday......

I fell asleep last night with her in my bed.
My Floridian princess,
Call her my Miami Vice.
She summons euphoria in a dystopia.
She makes me sing.
I find her so perfect when she lays there in her natural beauty.
So pure.
And find myself drawn to those lips,
even when shes dressed up in lace.
So much power, she scares me sometimes, I love her.
Just wanna hold her.
My baby.
The way she makes me melt,
Until I'm just liquid wax at the bottom of my favorite candle,
I couldn't compare to anything.
She kisses my lips, my cheeks and my third eye, ever so softly.
Then lingers around my head, and my bed for hours until she finally leaves.
While I sit and just miss her.

A flowered, timidly small bird I passed,
limp and shivering on the unforgiving asphalt
echoed within me all of which he never had
with his creaking sepia beak
through his lungs, out his throat.

He peeped feebly to plead me to lean closer,
I obeyed, slowly kneeling,
as to never disturb this creation.

He projects the coasts of Indonesia
to tell me how he so wished to dip his wings in its pristine water bodies,
He carries me through the forbidden treetops of the Amazon
withering over each exotic insect he never tasted,
He cradles me over the mighty Atlantic until we reach Australia
pointing toward each kangaroo and dingo he never spoke with,
And lastly he showed me the family he never followed
to warmer worlds, blanketed from winter’s rickety breath,
too afraid to conquer the blustery heights above.
Which led him to this moment, waiting for their return on this sidewalk,
losing feeling with each escaping tendril of life.

He spread himself to reach towards my face.
As I lower to make contact with his damp and disheveled wings
I feel each feather individually sweep my cheeks
as he died weepy and swollen in grief,
turning my skin pink with shame, because
we all lie hypothermic on the sidewalk, too timid to take the first flight.
And I, a fledgling,
have many miles left to pilot before the Floridian warmth will comfort me
in endless palm tree affection,
kissed by the fragrant shoreline.

My happy shoes shined on him
    ((Sherlock))
The ladies "Joy" locked
The grand one
And the only rare one
Orient Express me
diamond locket (Moon Wee)
The constellation all he

Inside escapades
starry eye clues
In the wax of the candle
  Taking a tour
Madame Tussauds
His beat thousand times
of her hourglass
crystalline sand

Stepping up engraved words
"I Love You" grand slam home run
my freedom to love him back
So I will be (Dawn) set me Grand-don't
slam my door the most expensive
horse-shoe

You got to be like a quicksand
Like the good-luck
Lotto-La La land
((Cinderella)) her Grand
Godmothers washing her floor
Her Grand finale Bella- Bella
Grand Meatballs vacation

High figuration the divination
The grand valuation of my cash diet?

Aim for the sky awe-inspiring
Cry Baby grand piano lordly concession
That's a riot comedy club of Moms
The milky monumental complexions
Robin flies  the Grand Marnier
we are family all International
Take all my ancestors
and first class kins
wipe my business
shoes give me__?

The whole works
"The Shoe Shiner"

The grandest times of sins
But we tweet in other
languages baronial
The grand thousands of human
mind like snowbirds sensational

Beach-homes waterfronts especial
All in variation harmonious
vacationers with their
Blue sky fancy poodles
Eating like birds chow- fun noodles
The Grand Hotel nest or maybe give
peace a chance John at a glance

We love the Floridian Fort Myers
The birds of 'Paradise"
 The flow of our pulse
lovebirds -R- something else
She thinks she is a step up price
Queen of Gracy Kelly

Oh! the hummingbird made
a grand slam harmonious
Go, Mustang Sally, the grand tally
That Grandeur "Red Riding Hood'
The goods her diction lucky night wolf
..... flight taking off pompadour "Rose"

Stepping up with the computer clicker
My mouse students theology
The goals phycology exceptionally grand
Like the statuettes to be kissed the Godly sand

How do we milk the whole cow?
Everything got sacred somehow
Where is our justice we need it now
Throwing white rice "Carolina" is ever finer
at traditional wedding turns dark matter  
How much more to sacrifice?

Oh! fiddlesticks, Christian Louboutin
Oh! Christ or her Manolo Blahnik
designer shoes she is as grand as a beatnik
((Faith)) taking one step passionately
The two terror twins think divinely
Taking the grand finale spiral staircase

Stepping on someone's toes or the
saying anything goes
Are butterflies they really free?
How much time do we have when
we cannot see any more beauty


Or catching fireflies Queen bees honey
Uncle Sam has our money this is the
'United States'.

Oh! No Webmaster, the romance booster
What a grand resister the greatest temptation the lover.

More hugs I will always love my Mother
she brought me into this world I felt grand
we only get one to observe another gifted hand
To be served engaged with each other
Picturesque goldmine
Valentine the plateau
A+ binge that cute chocolate
brown pups living
in the Chateau
The New Jersey ((Coolest Diners))
White china or Wedgewood or Crystals
Is always a grand invitation
Exchanges superb catnaps
you took a bite poison Apple
Meet the new modern
(Snow White) on the website
could see through her sumptuous clicks
Apple of first-class grandest school books

 She got an F for failure
I rather have the totally cool grand lecture

Stepping on someone's lap-(top) by the nook
What a **** "Hell-(Bottom)" he's super grand
but overcooked did we not see to look?
Having the grand finale snow wonderland
of  penguins
  (The North Pole) her gift that's another story
her nails the grand castle like no heaven
on earth glory

Old Meiser's square dancing pole  
How the world treats us and don't you dare
cross me my journey begins

((It's Totally Grand))
"Thousand Islands" with one step pickup your dog litter!!
The  waves so grand on the shiny white pearl sand
The purple rain Prince your divine love for
Passionate purple Irises tall and lean asters.

Oh! Jack in the slot Vegas box
the Philippine dictators' wife, 3,000
shoes embezzled
Whoa Oh! No 10 billion
the women that live in her shoes.
The *** in the City Carrie designer shoes.
The New York state of mind and Rome
3.5 million what a riot?

Her lips will chew to travel like the looper
So clean as mint lotto gum when the
dictators' wife bought 2,000 chewing gum
That is something to be grand about
(UFO) understatement- frilly- outstanding
in her "RV' Robin vitality stepping on victory
Her home the ATM my lordly place
The galloping gourmet in the
Galley the kitchen
The grand trophy ((Hollywood)) wife loves
chef knives LOL

Does life really have the purpose
Feeling like a slow turtle
The Floridian Fort Myers
The sandy silk the remedy
Seashell Rose thorned
  The happening day I was born
Robin- Joy tiny 5 pounds of gold
Joy to the world 4 ounces
Moms-whole
Birth I was her world
to guide me the incubator
I was named after
"Grandma Rose'
The dictator attention newborn babies
Crying please Arnold the
terminator doesn't terminate
her completely just stop
her from crying

Spiritual bud those rare finds
Someone took my funds
How was it laid out like
a birth flowing
Without anyone seeing
the beauty of it showing

The purpose in life being
moved inside another mind
A samba walk like a girl from
Impanena
Not always about someone's
  the treasure she passed
not to see
What is truly required
being sad to let it be
Or saying it's my pleasure

On your way to hope-land
or finding more time homeland
What a fine host heartland
Friendly sword-like
  medieval-land
The love fever when
the hayfever got to
Raggedy Ann dandelions
and ragweed
Her hot fever planting her seed
It works two ways to be the believer
My temperature rising

Your head is buzzing next song
The Spin city laughing gitty
But God! why are we  really here
Like Tinman Olive oil good
for the heart
That Scarecrow if I only had
a brain I'm over
there and here
How I am scattered straw
everywhere
Row your boat somewhere

Go gently computer streaming
Website world
That less induced stress
She lifts her smile that
black number dress was
A huge success

Her reduced waistline to cope
What is really the purpose of
Valentines Day Ray of hope
Every holiday gets you crazy
no matter if it is some purpose
Or that crucial number
coming to America has a purpose
Being Italian cannoli music
playing Pavarotti

All hell breaks loose he is high up
in the cabin whole lotta shaking
going on
  Rocky Bullwinkle Moose
Westchester eggs caboose
Wilted-wedding is not organized
Deeply touched to be personalized
Also the numbered seating, he left
his heart in your Ivory Starlite plate
What is really the purpose when
people invite you and show up late
You are writing again Amen
Velicity of higher force gravity
true vibe
The family of  my tribe
Another letdown, please
found me
Next season  firmly grounded
Someone will see you in the
magazine did they subscribe?

The foundation of Faith
Please describe
Nothing makes sense
You got a raise
He gave you kick in the pants
This life is a game of stunts

I want to say something loud and clear tonight.
I am me.
I am Caitlin Moody.
Born and raised Floridian,
Singer, French Horn player
Poet.
Roommate, Friend.
I often care too much,
I love too much.
I get hurt,
I fall.
But see the thing is,
I always get up.
Always.

We need to stop making

assumptions or
Can we be saved from
redemptions

To me, this is not a

Shakespearean

Love play reaction

Impeccability

Or love liability

◊ ♥ ♥


Self-love to love yourself

Interaction caught you in

the deepest thoughts

All by myself

Come forth the temptation

What becomes more
tempted

Fifth heart operated
Five doctors
Opened up someones
Good heart Bill Gated


Computer the chosen one
Pressed her five keys like the
Kingdom
come

How  God really

knows what every heart shows
he loves you


One agreement never

thoroughly thought
5 times the Sentinel
stars
She held her words bright


"I Am"

Two of the most powerful

words with love

Confinement

Promises five wishes lift

Please respect it as a gift

But what is really behind the

words bowling(Pin)interest
5 strikes you out


Let's say goodbye to sadness

Show gratitude

Your spirit opens to gladness

Respect is the one greatest

Accomplishment such kindness

Show who you are

the glow of appearance

And pardon me if you refuse

to eat "Emotionally"
Personally so caught up

With someone else's five
sweet and low packs
of poison

Looking for love but we really

don't know love give me five

reasons why?

Be immune to the other

people opinion


(Gamesmanship)

(Ladyfanlytrip)

Life was simpler
with giggles

Now all you see is
War of roses

How it blooms into
the hell of

Five lives of
Rifles

Are you being clearly unheard
Jaybirds Robin redbreast
Flamingo pink seagulls hawks
could really talk
take me away
To think

I forgot some
nostalgia__
My mind erased like
Insomnia

To buy love the Gal of the

Galleria

Were you the pep me up

Pepsi Topsy tipsy
Kentucky derby

The next level spiritual


Rules of the Rumi ®
Take me like a poem

She moved right through me
So peaceful and calm

Her Mona Lisa fifth
the painting she needs
to smile

Her five fingers took
a palm reading

The ½ of her heart needed

mending love
5 top ingredients
So well commended

The five agreements
Recommended

Something like you

never seen

On the news
Fox five
Box ageless five
Sox Dr. Suess
I will take the fifth
No loss



That ***** of light
Jekyll dark lamp post

His incoming headlights
Seeing a ghost

He saved your salvation

Oh! Lord what could I afford

The soul of silence

Going downward

But really "What's up?

Got changed to onward

Your divorced finger cup

Dark coffee with the
eerie glow
Showstopper
Wine corker
Fifth floor
Only one lover

No tootsie roll lost
the soul

Feeling like the
Rookie

All the chips were
out 5 morsels

Love of baked cookies
Love portal

Reaching Twenty five
No morals

So solid in your ways

Always on the fifth days

of the month

He was the bouncer

What an influencer

Healthy sipping your

Organic

With vitality but lonely

inside like a vegetation

So ironic

More energy veggie juicer

You felt "ET" or

Glazing in the grass

The E-book
embracer

the weight coming
off

Personel trainer he was

Slim Fast five times
reducer

24/7 Even Steven
reminder

Hearing the fifth symphony

You need the hubby

Hello Poetry
For God's sake,
we keep

Veterinarian take me
not him he went to sleep
The Veep

The Parrot palm tree
Designer 5 pairs of shoes
Shopping Bell Towers spree


Talking over like a
voice over the game
is over

The snowbirds

Floridian

Those spreadsheets

Spreading heat and waves

of love what's above

Love-Love-Love

Picking up on the fifth ring

Knowing its always him

on the I phone those
cultured

pearls shined for him


Filling in the gaps

That was a different swing

But we will make up the time

The Beatle beats I want to hold

your hand around the Garden of

Eve last love to bend

Your gifted heart to send

With no attachments
enclosed with

installments


Midsummer dream no manic

to this planet

Rumi spiritual existence

♥


My four agreements

To Love

To Honor

To give

To rightfully be happy
to live

Wednesday, 14th of February 2018, 7.00pm,
" breaking news, a mass-shooting happened today in Florida, American authorities are calling this the worst school shooting in U.S.A's history "
6 minutes and 20 seconds,
That's all it took,
17 confirmed dead,
15 injured,
Countless more lives ruined,
All in under 10 minutes,
No parent should ever have to hug their child,
So tight,
Just because it might be the last time they'll ever say goodbye,
No kid should ever have to be afraid of their school hallway,
Or be afraid of who's standing in the classroom doorway,
No kid should ever wonder if this day will be their last,
And no parent should ever have to bury their kid,
Six feet out of their reach,
So this is for Scott,
And for Alyssa,
For Martin,
And for Nicholas,
Not forgetting Aaron,
This goes to Chris,
And Luke,
For Cara,
And for Gina,
Joaquin and Alaina,
Meadow, Helena, and Alex,
Carmen and Peter,
You are all in our hearts,
Let's face it,
The Floridian community of Douglas,
Will never go back to " normal "
So, Washington? Trump?
Riddle us this?
When is this going to be added to your list of " proud American traditions "?
There are too many heavy hearts,
Too many dark days,
Too much chaos and confusion,
For this to be swept under the carpet again,
Just like the last time,
We aren't even a quarter of the way into 2018,
Yet there has been over 30 mass-shootings since the beginning of January,
So here's to the people who aren't accepting the truth,
Who are too " confused " to realize what's going on,
For the people who haven't woken up to the fact,
That there were unidentified bodies,
Sitting cold in that school for over 24-hours,
And do not tell me I am too young to know what I'm talking to you about,
I stand alongside Emma Gonzalez, and the hundreds of young people across the globe,
This isn't just for our lives,
This is for everyone's lives,
Since when did " don't shoot nice people " become such a controversial statement?
Since when did school safety become a debatable, two-sided matter?
So I will join my fellow marchers,
And yell loudly and unapologetically,
Until they hear our voices,
In the words of Emma Gonzalez,
Adults like it when we have strong test scores,
But not when we have strong opinions,
We are Marching For Our Lives,
And this is our legacy.