824

[first version]

The Wind begun to knead the Grass—
As Women do a Dough—
He flung a Hand full at the Plain—
A Hand full at the Sky—
The Leaves unhooked themselves from Trees—
And started all abroad—
The Dust did scoop itself like Hands—
And throw away the Road—
The Wagons—quickened on the Street—
The Thunders gossiped low—
The Lightning showed a Yellow Head—
And then a livid Toe—
The Birds put up the Bars to Nests—
The Cattle flung to Barns—
Then came one drop of Giant Rain—
And then, as if the Hands
That held the Dams—had parted hold—
The Waters Wrecked the Sky—
But overlooked my Father’s House—
Just Quartering a Tree—

[second version]

The Wind begun to rock the Grass
With threatening Tunes and low—
He threw a Menace at the Earth—
A Menace at the Sky.

The Leaves unhooked themselves from Trees—
And started all abroad
The Dust did scoop itself like Hands
And threw away the Road.

The Wagons quickened on the Streets
The Thunder hurried slow—
The Lightning showed a Yellow Beak
And then a livid Claw.

The Birds put up the Bars to Nests—
The Cattle fled to Barns—
There came one drop of Giant Rain
And then as if the Hands

That held the Dams had parted hold
The Waters Wrecked the Sky,
But overlooked my Father’s House—
Just quartering a Tree—

MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY: A Dreadful Tale about a Dead Anglo Mother, A Dreadful, Avenging Syrian Aunt, A Stolen Baby Sister, and a Hateful, Unfaithful, Defaulting Father.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With people, people who hardly know
Your vices, your intrigue, your lies, and so,
You’ve ruined lives, and now I will show

How demonizing you are, with just your thinking
About your “slemly” self,  just linking [Nice in Arabic]
That self to your own, and not us--no one else
You belong in no company, your old-time thinking.
Adopting my sister, without any inkling
Of what it takes to challenge the motherless
And seeing we ended up, also, being fatherless.

Travesties galore made this woman happy
You won hearts, but you seemed quite daffy.      
Childhood, telling us we’d never be as good
As your Syrian daughters - such a strange brood!
This kind of “teaching” by a Syrian mom was kinda lewd.

She verily and surely became our ISIS
She thought who could ever, ever be like us
She raved for hours so very against us
To that red-headed family so she could easily best us!
Humiliating us at every stop
We really, really got a lot
From her, the decadent Queen of ISIS
No, she’d never, ever be like us!

Twenty years to a guileless young person
Is a forever herstory an eternity…
A lesson, an identity…
Carried on secretly, destroying our Syrian identity.
She stole that connection, filling it with confusion
She with cruel humor would **** our loving illusion
Stopped it in its growth,
Forever unseating that family oath.
To care - without any rejection.
It was She that was The Great Defection.

Mary, Mary how does your hatred grow
Picked on those who had no Syrian power
But you didn’t see yourself becoming lower
To the ends of the earth, heartless black flower.

In her mind she’d be our Mother
But as this poet, I did not know it
Things would be better if we like sheep
Worshipped Mary, into the deep
Quite similar to the rest of her Keep
Then mayhap we’d enjoy their fully undeserved sleep.

Taught my dear baby sister like her to hate
Would I had the power to shut up her pate
Her mouth was evil to the core
I never, never could stand more.
Her hatred entered me, made me sore.

Screaming at us to keep us out
Stupid Daddy joined her in this falling out
She, successful -as any lout.
By God I thot I must be evil
Their strange behavior was not legal.
Would that she’d accept me, that dangerous eagle.
I lost my sense of self and ‘came very sad
Would that I could be like she so glad.
‘Tis fifty years now, and I can’t stop crying.
No one ever heard this “mother” sighing.

Hell, Mary, full of Face
Recognizing only your Syrian race
Did anyone else matter? Just your primitive face?
Everyone one was hurt, except you and your nace
There’ll be no one, ever, that could take your place.
Laughing to destroy our wanted Arab destiny
Which you did, and did, successfully, with your fantasy.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
Like plants, you lined us up all in a row
One good, two bad - you did the choosing
And what did you leave?
Only us, who did the losing.
You didn’t water those two plants.
Treated us two as if we were ants.
Watered sissa so she would grow
Your dreaded deeds no one would know
Judgement is left only to God.
But you and Dad should’ve returned to your sod.
Your behavior to the motherless seems very odd.
My sister and I two tossed peas in a pod.

Deserting us suddenly knowing only this hateful group
There’s nothing to which she wouldn’t stoop
Her sick obsession to hurt the powerless
Speaks of a very worst yes, cruel foulness.

We lived at a convent school very protected
Visiting weekends this aspiring ****,
Two sisters know she made a very strong mark
She was not our blood, we couldn’t take part
Of this constant coldness on her part.

And another Aunt with two daughters, good
They were always with us, always stood
The opposite of this wicked would-be aunt
This family, Americanized and very sane
Never did play the ancient Ottoman game
These Aunts were our world - our windowpane.

Two aunts - endowing us with a Syrian heritage,
One, the bad one, with too much leverage
The good one to teach a cheerful Syrian beverage      
With balance, love, and the length of days
Not like the other, the one who dismays.

We represented that bad woman’s target
What it came from. Could it be her precious Margaret?
No, not at all her peaceful daughter
But the other, gladly joined in on the slaughter
Making serious and even much more, fodder.

We had no tools to breach this hate
I guess that it would have to be our fate.
To live our lives just disenchanted.
Our hearts broke, as if forever lancets.
With Syrians there’d be no more dances

Taking my sweet sis turning her against us
She did truly give strong heed to finally fence us.
What ever could we find for our defenses?

Dad, real Dad, inebriated dad,
Fell in with them: became this negative father
Sought their pity--likening me as a foreign daughter
He was in love with them, weakly turning
But in turn, the two of us, spurning
Back to his Syrian fold back, not farther
Unwittingly, unrepentedly, uncaringly, joining the laughter
Discarding his American daughters to a mental slaughter.

At his picnic - family there - he called us foreigners
Foreigners we were, surely, when with them
They couldn’t ever believe in us,
Dad influenced them, peeved at us.
Made us feel like little fools.
No, we never had the tools
To fight this ignorance - Change these mules?

Punishing, punishing us as wedded women
Accused of all that they gossiped about
What did they say? And this truant dad a lout
Speaking of us in downing tones
I’d feel far better had they broken my bones.

Closing his relationships to his
Two lesser liked non-Arab sisters
Would there would be a better mister
He considered us two a mere sinful blister.

We ran away from this horrible drunk
He hated his daughters and he stunk
And then we suffered the worst of any they would dunk
Uncomfortable at their Arab-speaking home
We stopped visiting long before their moan
We were “no good”  said our Syrian family
Would that we knew that we’d be anti-Family.

They had something to hate and did they do it
We had no idea we were just a joke
Their words, their disgust, far more than a poke.
Their anti-American provincial views
Made little sense - such perverted mews
All we loved, we would really lose.
There was never any right to choose.

That Family didn’t speak, avoided us
At sissa's Syrian wedding. It was all mined
That scene returns to me all of them lined  
Winding its way into my unbidden mind,
They were so, so truly unkind
We always would be to them the “Other”
Yes, us, us, us, without a mother!

We lost three mothers, our real one gone
Also our good step-mother quickly on
Add Mary to that three, glad she is gone
Perhaps Dad guilty of the first two deaths
I shan’t continue - you’d lose your breaths.
  
But Hail that Lady, she would change our world
Sending us suddenly into a whirl.
How to change the young with screaming?
She’d not change but destroy our dreaming
Waking horribly from our Syrian dream
We just didn’t fit their shady crème de la crème.

Everyone was fooled by this greedy witch
She and her daughters I’d deem as *****
What was in them, caused their making?
Taking away, taking, taking, taking.
Good cousins now, have seen an awakening
My work of writing revealed Mary’s faking.

Hail Mary full of Face
Only using her charms to erace
The sisters she wished not to embrace
With threads of lies an unrevealing face
Syrians’ acceptance of her goldarn place  
No one ever will she replace  
In every way she used her mace
A clever poison to keep her place
Successfully, she’d snidely hid her dreams
Wearing a mask to hide her themes.

She’d always hated us through and through
We didn’t know it till she did what she’d do
Her masque did work, from dusk to dawn.
Hatred of us was what she would spawn
She would definitely **** our spirits
Would that I could reveal all her lyrics.

Our Syrian sissa’s wedding put us in place
That even there we could have little space.
No other family events could we be included.
Engagements, baptisms, we would be excluded
Their intentions now were completely nuded.   deluded!

You stole our little baby entering the world
Through our Mom’s Death
You stole my Dad’s affection
He also her straw man, worshiping Mary‘s fiction
Her stand could only be that of affliction.

Hail Mary full of Face
Face that faced nothing exçept winning the Ace
Did no one ever tell you - you were a case?
Using your screams to stuff our mind
And even more shrieking to clog our mind
No other Syrian family could be so unkind.

Always filling us with her delicious food
Only to turn against us, trussing our good mood.
I’d like to regurgitate all that poisonous food
Anything about her became totally lewd.
She bragged of her daughters - were they really that good?
When we were children, told us we’d never be like them
We never wanted to be like those hurting us.
Took our Dad’s affection, he also deserting us
We never but finally saw that they were into hurting us.

She has attacked us screaming, screaming on end
Never an explanation, never to end
She took money, stole sister too, not a lend.
With this cruel treatment, we were not able to fend.
I’ve never heard such venom in any human voice
It seared through both my ears, such an odious noise
Those first twenty years were so very splendid
But later with her actions - all was ended
With her allotted time this is how she would spend it.

Sister, affections stolen, obeying by fear
Couldn’t counter - with a mere
Stand up to this fraud of a Mother Dear.

Our baby sis had became her clay
She would remake her through many a day.
She owes us much, this lying thief
No family tree would know, not even a leaf
She stole and changed our beautiful blood
Returned nothing except a bad bad flood
Of making our names into family mud.

She then gave out inimical messages
The taunting that came from her mealy mouth
From Damascus, that lousy mouse.
Couldn’t discuss, but only scream
What ever, ever, did she mean?
This Family into which father bought.
Their apathetic “reasoning” I was never taught.

Her daughters conscripted to the Mary core
Following her words, her iron ore
Inflated us with much heavy criticism
To fill our sissa with a lack of witticism

Lying, lying she always, always hated us
For twenty years, she consistently slated us
For slaughter, just like little lambs
Motherless, she took our little lamb
She won, didn’t she, in her sham?
Mary & dad really fated us with their sick flim flam!

She’d tackle anyone, anything in her path
And she did, with her oh so dreadful wrath.
What powered this extremely devilish mind?
She had never, ever, been really kind.

Our sodden father turned to her
She was Goddess, he deemed Something
While we were nothing, nothing, NOTHING!
It didn’t happen till twenty years after
From kindliness to hypocrisy
One would not believe.
Our real selves never to retrieve.

A sweet child, sissa, full of love
Knew they were cold and she let us know
After those years, sadly though
Turned into another hateful *****
Forced to be like them, else be ditched.

Dad, dad, the precious Syrian lad
Embraced the family gatherings that they had
Youngest of the Ikmuks - he was mad
Allowed them the desecration of our pad
They could say anything--made it their fad.

He wouldn’t speak to them of their travesty
Worshipped them, and ever drastically
Wanted to be Them, lest he be
On the Outs from the Family Tree
Ousted, married out of the Tribe
Hardly now, when this happened, few are alive.
He refused to tell them we both should be here.
He would never, ever, play it fair.
“Dad, if you go, I’ll never be the same.”
He would never, never take the blame.
Of his paltry stabs at being a human
Go stuff him in a jar with more rotten cumin.

Never defended us, never, never
Always took their part like a mismatched lever.
Usually a Dad with a daughter would stay beside her
But then, he gave Mary a far wider rider.

Gatherings went on, by the family Mare.
All our lives had been spent with them before
But Iron Lady with Iron Ore
Came through later and before.
She would win, so well connected to her vile kin
Change, girl, change, you’re just an Anglo fem.
Don’t, please, don’t pay much attention to them.
Sudden hate - my thoughts now were dashed.
I changed - they took all I had and then they smashed.

They brought us into their sickly Ottoman lives
But all of them acted as if we had the hives
They, centuries‘ habit, it was the mid-1950’s why so bold?
They were too much, too much very, to behold
We were stricken, treated as in days of old
We would never be part of their unhealthy mold  [Mould?]

Regular at Church. What kind of God could she worship?
You know who should have been told? The Syrian Bishop!
The She-Devil not even relishing the Church script
Eternally, she would always, rip, rip, and then grip!
Instead looked to those after Church who would serve her!
She did just this with a total fervor.
No Communion, no worship, but her only feats
To seek and add to gossip in the streets
Afterward. When-Where everyone meets.

Se enjoyed the Devil of Power over those she knew
Verily, she should have been thrown in the loo.
Few new. Only the rejected two.

Mary, Mary full of Mace
You never did achieve much grace
Wish you could have finally
Fallen on your ignorant Face
There’s really not going to be any space
To explain your bad translation of a very good race.
The Syrian families I always know very well
Would never have made this kind of hell.

The Syrian race is good, except for this “mother”
I speak from my place as the dreaded ”Other”
You are and were a terrible, mother
You’re a crude example of this Middle Eastern  race.
Very few of them did see through your face.

In that family I barely gleaned this toxicity
But, never, ever, did I witness much felicity.
They llaughed and laughed about any Other
Played well their acts as if they cared
They knew Syrian-like we would not fare
We, Dad, all sisters three - fell for her snare.

What think you, God, of these poor children
How il-ly this Family thoroughly tilled them
Two non-Arab daughters’ given bad repute
Their shocking beliefs really made us mute
All that came from her demented mind
All that encountered Mary’s “kind”
She destroyed our conception of self
This hypocrisy would make one melt.

She infiltrated us, her daughters, and my Sissa
That we were not as good as she - but she lost her mister
Had Uncle [our blood] lived, this would never have occurred.
But Auntie [not our blood] surely had demurred.
Her hooked-nose criticizing, and simple daughters,
Psychologically--against us-- they joined in on these slaughters.
Kindness for two decades to rent, later they spent
Hell on the motherless, but hiding that intent
Taught her daughters: “Don’t be involved with them”
We really do know some of what she did, or said,
This is the kind of meal that she constantly fed
Her masque nearly hiding her evil bent.
Too bad she wasn’t forced back into her Syrian tent.

Mary, Mary quite contrary, How does your world work?
You won, you won, you ignorant, piece of work
You demanded respect from all of us, treacherous,
She got it, didn’t know it, then she brought down the two of us

Sneaky, low-life, hypocrite witch
We always thought we had a niche
But lost kids like us did never snitch
We wouldn’t, didn’t open up about that *****.

We had a twenty-year comfort zone with her
Deserted at last by her flying fur
Stolen, deserted at last by Dad--that foul mister
Stolen, deserted, lastly by our pretty baby sister.

This left us changed by this She-Devil
Would that there’d be a way to counter her evil
We couldn’t - she was always far too strong
An ISIS for us - this would last too long.

After these years, I could not grow
Was I a real woman? -  I didn’t know!
Being a mother couldn’t show
That this Family created a list of woe.

When Sissa had babies & a mom to help
We did this alone - all this we felt.
Her faulted hatred never did melt.
I didn’t know how to take a stance
Nor could I find out how to advance.
We had to oppose Aunt Mary’s dance.

That Sissa could not bo

Tiger, Tiger they all called him.
Faces marked with smiles grim.
Office buzzed with word tiger, tiger.
He was one but many they were.

Full day continued insincere flattery.
End of month 'twas, day for salary.
Then story took melodramatic turn.
Like tiger he moved, demeanor stern.

Outright he announced party that night.
Everyone attended in clothes bright.
They gossiped, danced and dined.
Happily they all boozed and wined.

He sat like a tiger circled by coterie;
And the total bill was half the salary.
I looked through magnifying glass;
And saw pack of wolves and an ***.

I wove my own web and netted my prize,
I cold-pressed my words and refined my disguise.

I goggled at life and faced up to that book,
I tumbled and tweeted and baited my hook.

I blipped and I blogged, I bantered and blushed,
I followed and friended, I grovelled and gushed.

I doled out the instant, ten grams at a time,
To fuel my addiction for caffeine and rhyme.

I reshopped my pic, I swiped left, I swiped right,
I pinned and I posted deep into the night.

I gloated and gossiped, I chatted and cheered,
I logged in and logged out without favour or fear.

For is it not fun - this mad media storm?
Viewing and voting from dusk until dawn.

Yet love me or like me, let it never be said,
That despite how it seems, it’s gone to my head.

We, too, had known golden hours
When body and soul were in tune,
Had danced with our true loves
By the light of a full moon,
And sat with the wise and good
As tongues grew witty and gay
Over some noble dish
Out of Escoffier;
Had felt the intrusive glory
Which tears reserve apart,
And would in the old grand manner
Have sung from a resonant heart.
But, pawed-at and gossiped-over
By the promiscuous crowd,
Concocted by editors
Into spells to befuddle the crowd,
All words like Peace and Love,
All sane affirmative speech,
Had been soiled, profaned, debased
To a horrid mechanical screech.
No civil style survived
That pandaemonioum
But the wry, the sotto-voce,
Ironic and monochrome:
And where should we find shelter
For joy or mere content
When little was left standing

But the suburb of dissent?

And he saw it now and then
the lamp lit row of houses that
stretched beyond the eye
houses where men who dug black
slept and drank when they could

ageless cobbles pried on
men who fought in the street
over want, women and work
while little men sons played
foolish games of childhood

daughter women with prams
mothered their plastic dolls
and the wives gossiped about
young Sally who had a belly
by John Stout the butcher boy

the reverend Ellis knew
all the stories and chapters
of life in this coal dust street
he birthed them baptised them
married and buried them

and the street was quiet
no vehement voices tonight
as the deed of death
slipped over the cobbles
and gripped a sleeping soul.

The day had been a day of wind and storm;--
  The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,--
  And stooping from the zenith bright and warm
  Shone the great sun on the wide earth at last.
  I stood upon the upland *****, and cast
  My eye upon a broad and beauteous scene,
  Where the vast plain lay girt by mountains vast,
  And hills o'er hills lifted their heads of green,
With pleasant vales scooped out and villages between.

  The rain-drops glistened on the trees around,
  Whose shadows on the tall grass were not stirred,
  Save when a shower of diamonds, to the ground,
  Was shaken by the flight of startled bird;
  For birds were warbling round, and bees were heard
  About the flowers; the cheerful rivulet sung
  And gossiped, as he hastened ocean-ward;
  To the gray oak the squirrel, chiding, clung,
And chirping from the ground the grasshopper upsprung.

  And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry
  Flew many a glittering insect here and there,
  And darted up and down the butterfly,
  That seemed a living blossom of the air.
  The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where
  The violent rain had pent them; in the way
  Strolled groups of damsels frolicksome and fair;
  The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,
And 'twixt the heavy swaths his children were at play.

  It was a scene of peace--and, like a spell,
  Did that serene and golden sunlight fall
  Upon the motionless wood that clothed the fell,
  And precipice upspringing like a wall,
  And glassy river and white waterfall,
  And happy living things that trod the bright
  And beauteous scene; while far beyond them all,
  On many a lovely valley, out of sight,
Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft golden light.

  I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene
  An emblem of the peace that yet shall be,
  When o'er earth's continents, and isles between,
  The noise of war shall cease from sea to sea,
  And married nations dwell in harmony;
  When millions, crouching in the dust to one,
  No more shall beg their lives on bended knee,
  Nor the black stake be dressed, nor in the sun
The o'erlaboured captive toil, and wish his life were done.

  Too long, at clash of arms amid her bowers
  And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast,
  The fair earth, that should only blush with flowers
  And ruddy fruits; but not for aye can last
  The storm, and sweet the sunshine when 'tis past.
  Lo, the clouds roll away--they break--they fly,
  And, like the glorious light of summer, cast
  O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky,
On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie.

It was 3:30 in the morning
The aunt died, heart attack they said.
I only have a pale memory of her
The pink-house, protest and abuse.
Grandfather plucked us from there
the next day
The pink hibiscus my mother planted
did not depart.

She is dead today
I went to see her in black clothes,
The house, an empty aluminium box-
With kids playing ‘ring around the roses’,
Uncles debated politics and aunts gossiped
And some moaned inside.
I waited outside with few strange women,
They asked me questions
plenty of them
The anti-social me smiled.

The morning was usual
Mother made noises in the kitchen
with her steel plates and old radio,
Father forgot the fish on his
green kinetic honda,
Cats had a feast that evening
I did yoga, read newspaper and did-
not take a wash.

The dead body arrived late noon
in an ambulance with her expatriate son.
There was a sudden burst of cry-
inside- her daughter and grandchildren.
She looked like the fish to me,
The fish my father brought that morning
from the market, cold and dead.
Her daughter’s cry reminded me of-
an elapsed day in my pink house.

My father kept pink flowers on her feet
and prayed
I did not move, sat with the same chitchatting
women
The chanting became loud and it reverberated.
The body was finally taken to the fire
My mother came late, she wept.
The body burned down in minutes,
Dear relatives decamped.

I sat on the same chair
with my cousins
drawing the family tree, locating stories
and laughed over family jokes.
Then we sat tight lipped with brandy fumes
and cashews.
I came back home with my father
in the green kinetic honda,
I looked for the fish and the cat
I could not find both.

It really is odd, how we started out,
I had come from a relationship gone bad,
I really needed a friend.
In the most amazing coincidence, you saved my life,
You came to be my friend.

What happened next,
Our newly found friendship was so exciting,
How we made each other laugh,
And joked about smiling spleens,
Our friendship exploded with activity.

How you invited me over,
The night before your birthday just to hang out,
How we found each other locking lips, you in my lap,
How pure our feelings became in such a short time,
Oh, how our hearts were racing that night.

The next day was special,
It was magic, how we bonded,
The closeness between us, how cute everyone said we were,
How scared I was that day,
To ask you to be mine.

You said yes, and the next few months –
They were some of the best months of our lives,
We understood each other, poured our hearts and minds out,
It was so crazy how we just
Made each other happy.

Everybody saw it,
People gossiped about how cute we were and how perfect,
We really were so perfect, came together and became so invincible,
I still remember how,
How we fell in love.

The whole spring,
The amazing feelings every day, how wonderful things were,
We both found no ******, the love kept building and building,
Every look, every sound, every kiss,
We found true love.

But when we found true love,
Our love was everything, we began to see each other in the purest sense,
It became more than being carried away by infatuations and desires,
We found something special,
We weren't just a couple.


In all of that specialness,
I told myself I'd always love you, because I knew what I saw in you,
You were more than my girlfriend, you became the best friend I'd ever had,
Almost a sister to me, the peace of mind, the calm,
We found nirvana.

Then came June,
What started with a bang ended in such tragedy, I didn't foresee such horrible consequences,
Our love was so strong, but how quickly our advances became regressions,
I then regretted so much, I lost my calm, I became unsettled,
We became a train derailed.

Transitioning to July,
We never really got the train back up and running,
It was damaged from the derailment, it didn't want to move, we got so scared,
I became frantic, I became mean, cruel, cold-shoulder was almost my middle name,
How I'd forever be sorry.

I said hello to August,
When you were afraid of me because I'd become an animal,
When I saw it in your eyes it was almost too late,
You'd spent too many days crying, depressed, your parents began to hate me too,
I'd not been around for you.

Autumn began,
The leaves fell off the trees, and I tried so hard to please, but I couldn't,
Your eyes were so empty, your parents were fuming, I knew I let you down,
Oh, how hard I was kicking myself for being so awful to the love of my life,
Who didn't want to know me.

Today,

It took a little time after all of this for me to gather my brains.
You see, you were so much more to me than a lover, more than the love of my life.
You saved my life, from the beginning, and it's not my emotional justification but the truth.
You taught me how to be happy, made me forget how to hate myself.
You put so much color into my world, you sang me new songs.
The lengths to which I'd go to be the smile on your face again are far too great for my own good.

I wasn't in love with you. I loved you.
You as a person. Your brain, your soul, your will, your body.
You see, you'd become my soul mate, not my ****** partner.
You'd become someone I'd love forever, even if you didn't love me back, even if you were gone.
In a way, you became my sister, my freedom, my truth, my goal, my promise, and you grew on me.
You grew like the most beautiful gardens, you became what I lived for.

In the end, you were many wonderful things, but mainly one --
My trust.

Even in death she mocked them
They that turned up to watch
Her laid to rest.
These people she had loathed
in life everyday
whose help she scorned.
The one whose man was loose
A meaningless philanderer
Another that gossiped
Of the good, bad and ugly.
She wouldn't accept their help
They thought her a charity case.

She danced on her grave
was this what death was like?
to look down on your body
Peaceful like in sleep.
The years had not been kind
She looked ravaged by nature
wrinkled like a wilting flower
Ashen grey and crumbling
She danced because it was over
The hardship that was life.

Light as a feather she felt
She could be herself again
not have to conform to others
pretend to be what she wasn't
she was a free spirit
reign to wreck havoc
On the neighborhood folk
Them that were hypocrites
She would give them lessons
a haunting they wouldn't forget.

In my house
It smells like burning nachos
Like pico de gallo left to rot
And beans too long on the stove.

I stand in the doorway
Keys in one hand, doorknob in the other.
It's snowing outside, and I'd forgotten
That I'd asked you over that afternoon,
Just to talk.
Maybe watch TV.

For three and a half years now, we've been best friends.
But there was a different time,
When we didn't talk to each other,
When we let teenage angst and hatred seethe
Between us like some dark and twisted monster.

There are different kinds of anger.
I was mad at you because in the summer
Between seventh and eighth grade, you flaked on me
For those other girls, the ones who wore bikinis
And whose dads had speedboats and sports cars,
Whose boyfriends were in high school,
Who wore black eyeliner and gossiped all the time.
I was mad because you changed yourself for them.
I thought that that was why you were avoiding me.

Today you told me
You were mad at me
Because we liked the same boy.
You said you thought I resented you for it.

I laughed.
This is why we have these talks -
So that, looking back on our junior high selves,
We can make fun of what idiots we are.

I sat under my dining table
Of eight chairs and forty eight columns,
It felt like a house with
Windows, dust and unwanted curly locks.
Sitting cross-legged on the white floor
Reflecting my clothes, body and words
I pulled my nails, sang little rhymes
And hit the chair legs with my little thumb.
Guests came, gossiped, recited tales
Gulped tea and left with more stories,
Some returned, others did not.
I sat under my dining table, awaiting
Plates, conversations and fuming-
Black tea. It did come occasionally
With my mother, father and few strangers.
There were books, umbrellas, newspapers
And sometimes samples of medicines,
They sat like Victorian women in long gowns
Who did not speak even after a tempest.
I sat there morning, noon and evening
Unaccompanied singing little rhymes.

He didn’t think that that could have ever been true
The wild orchids not talking anymore –
Guarding their secrets like pearly pools of water.
The first to hear about this was the lily, still waking up covered in dew
She stretched herself open, inhaling living into every grain of her body
Singing to the sun exaltations from his daughter
The dandelions spurned and gossiped among one other
Bobbling yellow heads creating a distraction for the wind
That took the words and spread them through the garden
Indigo butterflies landed on the orchid’s blossom caressing the delicate its delicate curves
Spilling sounds and voices and songs

The feelings left unchecked
your anger, your hate
brings about the failure of the times
the ties
the lies
the crimes that go unnoticed
to all but the one involved
pleaful cries fall upon the ears
of your deaf justice
Your gangs, your fangs
grow longer with every hateful spat
that is muttered behind doors of glass
with gold plated name plates
pin-stripped suits in-which egos inflate
unlawful crimes of ****** and sins
of economic proportions
While you borrow money from the poor
and put the debts to the world at a record
high
collective sigh
stifled cry from the unheard public
whose ears are buried with gossiped dirt
celebrities, foreign wars, local criminals
whose eyes are burned with the images
of starving children and destroyed cities
and while the nation's shoulder cringes
you filthy lying gnat
in the ear of the press
talk of progress
while the truth you suppress
Your value of a dollar is distorted
you man of power
and as homes crumble in dis-repair
I shall see you in your final hour
pleading to the court room of the down-trodden
mislead, misguided, spirit rotted
poor, the little man you stepped on
And when that little man seems to be a giant
And your empire comes tumbling down
I will see to it that your crimes are exposed
murderer of the nation's exquisite dreams
extortionist, economic terrorist
And I'll be the first to step upon the rubble
So laugh it up now, CEO
Because we will have our day, our way
Our Justice

I met you when you owned a universe.
You were a pitiless empress and I made pies for the sake of pie making.
After a season of orchard trysts
(a queen picking apples! The world would talk.)
you requested a pastry of my heart.

So I carved it out and baked it in and cut my hair for the latticework.
If you want to satisfy your gluttony, the directions are here.
The filling calls for apple cores.
Make sure you use the ones in the very back of the grove
on the ground where you nudged my knee with
yours as we gorged and gossiped.

Sprinkle a little dirt on it, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to get adventurous
and use the outdated milk and don’t sift out those sugar ants from the bag.
Knead the crust with your elbows, don’t use the hands that would pet my hair
as I lay in your lap.
Crawl to the oven, cut out your heart with a paring knife
(no royalty to buy you a clean blade) and toss it in.

Bake it at the degree of your contempt for me now.
Don’t sear the top with your temper, darling.
Act meek enough and eat your ******* pie.

He rolled up yesterday
Out of nowhere
As always
My old friend and me
Sharing news of families
And where he's living now
With a million memories between us
We laughed about the past
Gossiped about the present
Who's with who these days
Why when and where
Gigs and music
As always
But we never mentioned the future
We rarely do these days

                                        By Phil Roberts

You were smiling with me,
Then a tenderly feeling was going across my heart;
Yes, I was smiling back to you.
Oh! How unforgettable is that?

We studied, quarelled, laughed,
ate, gossiped  and were  blamed together:
We faced,
all difficulties and the happy, enjoyable moments together.

We were never separated,
We were always together.
The incident which was brought us to hold our hands together is,
The first ‘smile’, that tender ‘smile’:
Which is never forgotten by me.

I hap'ed to meet Death once,
Along the Shining road,
I was going up it,
And he back down again,
Top o' the mornin' to ya,
I cheerfully put forth,
And the rest of the day to thee,
Came his grim reply,
I asked him how his business went,
If it was going well,
He answered it was booming,
Almost too much for him to do,
He asked me about the gleaming courts,
And if life there was good,
And answered as good as ever,
Though few notice none,
We chatted a bit and gossiped,
Shared a drink of whiskey strong,
Then both went on upon our ways,
Him down and me on up.
~Muninn's Kiss, January 2, 2014

She always sighed looked to the clouds and said,
"I can no longer pretend. Cuz its times like these that drive me to envy the dead."
A little lighter but still in remorse, she continued,
"And I don't mean to pry but those hues in your face, the colors of your eyes.
Well I wanted to take them and mix em with my every day visions.
Cuz its one shade I never want to forget and cease to exist silly revisions."
She always continued.
" & In the late years mist and molding leaves melting back to the earth again.
It reminded us of a simpler time we'd said.
The kind when we were able to feel alive even if we were still stuck in the womb of the town from where we came
and faulty attempts to look a little less dead."
Her eyes laughed. "Atleast on the inside anyway. I saw it in a few passing glimpses before."
But silly girls always question: "Shall I wonder to ever view those soul windows once more?"
A tattered chapter. A rememberance of melancholic place.
A word never spoke too soon so it has no mouth to try and escape.
A heart to sew on her sleeve but no instead to rip the seam apart,
string it along telephone wires signaling the urgent call
while all the neighbors nostrals flare in disgust at what some gossiped as only an electrical fire after all.
And laying in gently crippled memories of all the moments you clench your jaw and grit your teeth
and hold your breath, whether its out of anger and an upset or a loves ***** pleasure in bed.
Timeless is of the essence and I lived in the moment now.
Where tick tocks pay no wake to my sleepyhead
and my earthbound vessel can finally seek rest once the sunset decides to ***** something sweet all over the sky.
"And there." She pointed to the moon, smiling shyly, slitting from the up above beyond and wide.
"Thats where I find the colors. The ones lost from your eyes.
That crafted, ensnared and mystified all who became into existence; past, present and future combined."
And with that she disinegrated, disappeared into the space above.
A myth. A legend. It has been done.
Never to return again and visit the earthly plane she so dearly loved.

Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Pigs, chickens, goats, ducks, geese, turkeys;
feed them all.

Always as a girl she walked without shoes.
She played in the mud and yet was still beautiful.
Up and down she chased that boy.
The painter boy;
the one who did not all that much care for mud.

The big man with the heavy boots stopped coming here;
many years ago he stopped.
The three ladies with the pointy shoes came then.
I became ridden with new holes  and dips daily.
I became even more worn and torn up.

One would think I spent all my time with the likes of chickens;
continuously pecking and clawing and picking.
Ripping me away from myself layer by layer.

Mostly I waited;
waited for all of them to just leave.
Leave her to her farm.
To her animals.
To her life.

One night,
just as the sun decided to sleep,
she left; slipping away.
The ladies with the pointed shoes were gone.
She was leaving too.

But mercy!
Her feet were not bare and her calluses were hidden.
I knew soon life for us all would change.
For on her feet there was something new.

Glass slippers soft as silk caressed my face.
The hems of white satin and silk slipped over my eyes carefully.
She was afraid but anticipation shook her breath,
and weighed her feet.
I wished her luck and sent warm prayers up through me.

I waited patiently,
the rain pounded rudely upon me and
the night raced on.
It held feelings of pain but also of hope,
and I waited.

After humiliation and hurt passed,
carrying defiance and anger with them,
joy and happiness exploded in the air
as forgiveness spread silently around.
Satisfaction crept slyly in and decided to stay.

With petty arrogance the three of them pranced;
down the steps and across my face, stabbing me
with every new step.
They laughed and taunted and gossiped,
reveling in what splendor they thought they had,
and the royalty they believed they deservedly were to receive.
With false fragility they were lifted into the coach
where they sat with straight backs, gloved hands, bejeweled
everywhere they could be...

The ladies with the pointed shoes didn’t come back.
No, but she did.
Of course she did, she had to say
So long for now, even though
every once and awhile she’d be back.

Now someone else would tend the pigs,
the chickens, the goats and ducks and geese and turkeys.
Someone else with calloused feet and a ragged dress
would walk me over each morning.
But I didn’t care.
I smiled, that is, if dirt can do such things.
Cause as sure as anything in the world,
she was happy.

through
the captain's
eyes
where ships
crashed through
the strong tides
the stift seas
nor the
hallowed winds
we shall not
gossiped
about our
graves
to thee

sorry I haven't written lately I haven't been my best
quite frankly I've got a lot on my chest
so allow me to air all of this out
I hate bottling up my problems and lashing out.

My laptops broken, and it's an expensive Fix
that doesn't sound like much but a lot of my creative works, poems stories and other things are trapped on it

My mom quit her job so now she's jobless,
she worked for attorneys she liked once but her co-workers gossiped and prodded into her life more than snitch in a mafia outfit

My sister and I haven't been speaking lately all because I made a simple mistake involving a baked pastry, I said I was sorry but she won't accept it
so until she's out of her petty thinking mindset all communications I'm rejecting

along with all this I haven't had much inspiration to run with I've been dry for awhile using throwaway concepts that really don't fit my style so I took a collaboration kick and then a break for awhile

I'm jumping into new with this trampoline pad
I'm hating every poem I wrote because they were too sad
I have passion flowing through all my veins
It twists around the hurts and pains
My passion is like a river, never gonna sit
With any dam in the way, it'll jump over it
I've felt like ash from a fire just extinguished
All dreams I once had had been relinquished
Then after a final heartbreak, it sparked some emotion
A spark in the ashes, a wind now in motion
And with this sole spark, I will use my one chance to fan it
After jumping into the unknown, this time I will land it
I am a phoenix rising from the ashes, no longer defied
My heart is beating once more, but it never really died
I am no longer just a bird flying above
I am an eagle, soaring from self-love
I used to lay at the bottom of the sea, feeling entirely worthless
But now I've remembered to just swim up to the surface
I feel like a rose in a bush, used to being tricked
But for once in my life, I was happy not being picked
And I know that we're no longer looking at the stars and crying
But I'm laying there by myself, eyeing Betelgeuse and Orion
If someone looks into my life, thinking they're so smart
They'll see lots of my friendships are falling apart
I've been gossiped about, lied to, insulted, from the entirety of night to day
But for once it didn't matter, and I simply walked away.

Ripe feelings fill the balmy air
And ride the summer breeze
They twist and dip and whisper
Throughout the wizened Trees

They paint a vivid picture
Full of memory
Of a once caged heart
Now soaring full and free

They tell their tale with gusto
A sense of hushed pride
They speak softly to the flowers
Of a love that’s undenied.

The flowers tell their flower friends
Then those, they do the same;
Every blooming rose bush
Knew the couples names

They gossiped and they whispered
All chattering with ease
Till the story shuffled off
With a couple bumbling bees

These bees they traveled far away
Telling the tale along their ride
Of loves triumphs and elations-
And soon they heard she’d be his bride
And buzzed “congratulations!”

The couple looked into each other’s eyes that day
And said their loving I dos
While Mother Nature smiled on
Delighted by the news