Mark 1h
If reached aside the pearly cradled rose
therein a rattling joy; o' stillborn child.
What uttered mine - unsaid angelic prose,
should passing lay my husk and essence wild?

Awaiting yonder womb were tepid wings;
inflamed with bonding warmth of kinship love,
like softly feathered pads and rocking swings
then ardent glows, as seen and known above.

The wailing babe is music sung and sought,
for more a sleepless dusk - had since apart.
For eyes which never opened wide were wrought
and taken here and strolled in golden cart.

Should words in amber fail and infant pine,
behold the spectrums soul, the same as mine.
woman emerges naked & pregnant
from the dense brush, starts eating;
goes into labor, shouts out, what're
u, writing a book! thinking her mate
has come face-to-face w/ his maker;
she squats & taking deep breaths lets
the load drop screaming & crying;
he's no prophet, he's constipated &
looking about for something to read;
woman walks off along the beach; its
warm waves lapping beneath a zesty
orange sky, feeding the tasty juice
from the coiled umbilical to the infant;
the man finally gets a clue but by
now, the woman is gone; it's getting
late & it's time to hunt; it's easier to
feed one than three; meanwhile, the
woman finds a camp of mothers &
children, washes herself & the child;
sits down for a hot meal & is offered
a safe place to sleep beside the fire,
the little creature at her breast; man,
finding a like-minded troop of savages,
excitedly tells them of the creature
w/ three heads & a mouth between it's
legs leaving out that he fucked it until
he got to know them better; noticing
two men holding hands & thinking
he must've taken a really wrong turn
Camryn jones Mar 9
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start

Just an infant with scars
He reached for that pregnant belly
slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
she cupped her baby bump
and hoped she'd never have the same hell

All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
Which make DNA
she is special      shes awake
But, in many ways
She is the same

As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
A debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
To one day guide her back home


Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her ass off
like her
the wrote and the writ

Yet she's plagued by guilt
every minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT  for each exhale emitted
prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty
more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position


I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama runs in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your bitchin'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are motherfucking winning

WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but still stayed brave


The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through  time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will not compromise

Your in the way of the wave, child
This.....  the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Promise
To memorize this line

— The End —