When I was born,
Mother named me “Novina,”
and I was to be both
the prayer and the answer.
I was to be both god and servant.

When the pebbles started flying,
no one told me to hide,
to cover myself or to wrap
my own arms around my chest,
with my head tucked in so that I resembled
a balled up sacred vessel.

I stood, in the backyard,
with the simple man from next door
who still lived with his mother,
who was still the prayer, but could
never be an answer.
He towered over me,
smiling Mona-Lisa-stupid
in the face of civil war.

When the Jackel-monkey rode in,
on his lowrider chariot, he laughed
and made the simple man dance,
and dance,
and then sleep.
Eyes open,
crying Mother Mary tears as
he fell redwood-heavy before me.

and I whispered “Madre de hijos,”
but that's not a prayer, jackel-monkey said.

And you know prayers? I spit back,
my baby teeth and his flying pebbles
meeting in the middle,
before the pebble flew past the tooth,
to me,
into me,
and into the cinder block behind me.

He rode away on a dark horse,
and I yelled after him, my diamond eyes-turned-dangling pendulums in 2 quarter time,
“judge me and die. Judge me and die. I am Novina whom Mother loves.”

A premature lamb lay in the pool of red,
her intestines and stomach spewn about, sputtering,
quivering, left on the ground as a sacrifice,
unworthy to be displayed on an alter.

At night she was *****, torn apart by
a Jackel, a Tiger, and a Snake
who chewed
but regurgitated her remains.

Believing death would soon come,
she lay, like a whisper
neither living nor dying,
only her brain left beating inside her.

Three days passed and she survived.
The gods refused to take her soul,
she was not worthy They said, hardly
notable and lacking in value for sacrifice.

she was from Cain's livestock, They said
she wasn't the fattest nor the healthiest.
Spotted, sickly, and skinny, unfortunatley born,
neither a blessing, nor a curse- insignificant to be either.

Abandoned, abused, and neglected in her first life
bullied everywhere she went, a mockery, except
as she glanced at her reflection in the stream, She saw
beauty and magic, and expected to blossom like an evening primrose.

she acquired religion, the only gift she received from her birth mother
she clutched the ideals and smiled despite her cross because of it
All of her ailments, her deformities, she bore
in Christ's name

In her next life, she tried to live forgetting the past, but it
pursued her like wild fire drawn to a black locust tree
she could not hide who she was, for she bore
the mark of Cain on her forehead, through no fault of her own.

A new chapter, she fell in love and was betrayed thrice.
The Jackel, the Tiger, and the Snake came,
upturning her life ferociously, mindlessly, recklessly, carelessly
but gone with the gust of wind.

she had nothing, but her will
until she lost that too.
she looked around the world and saw happiness
but none of it was hers, because she was nothing.

she dared not dream,
since Loki would, for sport,
create more illusions til she
could no longer discern the salt of reality.

after the storm, she opened her eyes and saw
her own blood splattered on the brown patch of a muddy forest.
The Jackel, the Tiger, and the Snake liked her smell. They chewed her flesh but could not digest it. They regurgitated her remains and left.

The gods did not accept her as a sacrifice,
they spat on her with water from the sky and closed their eyes.
her soul wished to part, water from her eyes wished to escape,
but she was not gifted enough to cry, nor blessed enough to die.

Not even the earth was willing to take her in.
her body did not decompose, but stayed there- not quite dead.
Passerbys poked at her with a long stick, but did not touch,
nor partake of the flesh, nor bury her.

Some simply walked around her, others walked on top,
A few deficated on her, but no one saw the life in her eyes,
nor the tears unable to be released, nor the hope
still daring to survive in the cells of her blood on the ground

Would I bleed you
To save myself
Turn and look away
Surrender reason
Up on a shelf
Paranoia...
what da ya  say?
The long dark is coming
I spit this out as fact
Rage the statas quo
Come the night of the jackel
Steel  ln my hand
Say me which way your to go
Their weapon religion
Their version of God
Agenda,
To own how you think
World oder looming
Do you find it odd
Chain of life
Will be  missing the next link.     Hy

Crippled thief.........I have sown.........you steal in darkness..........I sow now my field.........my food feeds menwomen..........my little plow shall BE
PROTECTED..............
Now finally
Faith........................I look to you...........my squirrels.......to protect all I am.......don’t let the thief take my sow...........for I will not fight......for if you will not......this is naught
The finality of the soul is so hard to show.......it’s for all.....not me....not you......you cloaked dagger of harbingers fright....you glassed managerie of darkhind vert.....you want....you NEED.....you no different
HELP
WHO SHALLgift the feigned apprentice his just consequence of LIGHT...?
I shall not
If in the frosted vessel of this plantations skinned submissions vessel.......if you pass the torch to.....totottotototo.............the ****** hunter..........shame
I leave my seed at YOUR mercy...........hark the *******,...no.......his ******* not what you think.......that’s his cloak..........his is so tremored inside......he cloaks with outward flaw..........
Will
U
Let
Me
My
Beavers pearl
Will u let it be
..........devoured

Help
Me
It’s Mine!

Let the shines away
that half eyed sun pours,
Let the breeze block
newly bathed
earth's smell that blows,
leave me there,
where I started
with bunch of emptiness
once again
let me burn all my thoughts.

Words that heels
or rips the wounds,
tortuers me
all through the nights;
The pain I bore,
the emotions i buried,
rise again
Oh stop!
I can bear nomore.

Let my nights
full of lights,
Instead of stars
that makes me scare,
Oh God!
Please bury that moon forever
under herds of black clouds,
Shot the wild jackel
barks through the dark.

Before the time hunt me
I want to live again,
But, oh poetry!
your world is too rude
I feel unease to breathe here
I want to cry, but
you have dried my throats,
I want to run away
but you have chained my legs.
Oh poetry!
I'll leave your world
Oh poetry!
Please free me from your world.

And since my soul is so willing to sew rhythms in copious ocean-esc villainous feelings
I'll be wing ridden to save myself from being pillaged
, see my soul's risen into old wisdom given by members hidden in the pages of some wing ridden angels when my mind's with them.
It's that kind of season, where you can get lost in the dreaming and break free without reason from a precinct with demons that stay feeding on the lifeless breathing ingrates that try to keep up with living.
It's vivid, how their horns and tails fidget when you're about to cheat on the misses
And rob a church before Christmas
Got you acting up, chasing down a witness
The things our souls have to witness.
I wish the victimizer had a fit bit on his cruel wrist; so that i could blame **** on his focus
Other wise there's no sense
In hurting a woman who gave no offence
They willing to jump an electric fence and fence with their daggers and blades. Slice up her dress turn her into a slave.
Leaving trauma delayed relayed in her mind as fact that she cannot be saved.
I'm afraid.
Why make a choice that'll make more graves?
Why make a kid in a world that won't be the same
A world where the only change is a different type of blame.
With a different gun to aim
I'm just saying
It's a shame, for humans and their vains laced with historical pains and strains of purple hearts i mean haze and strife
Basically smoking a joint laced with a knife
Twice.
One for the groom and one for the bride.
Because the child they couldn’t hide died in the street dealing with one Jackel and one Hide.
To be honest i probably would have tried
To join my child if God pulled them to his side.
Thus, my soul and mind are placed in his hands where i confide.

How dark the crumbling ruins lie ,
that once grew tall against the skies ,
that told of loves great battle cries against a snarling foe .

For leaves and rusting metals that beat against the bark ,
is all that can be heard .
Driven by a wind that won’t stop a howling ,
and hasn’t for many years .

What was once a bustling town ,
her
inhabitants left a long time ago .

Yet there is a man who still lives here
who refuses. to ever go .
An elderly gent who won’t back down ,
and never gives in to sin .
His bible sits next to his bed ,
he boils a kettle ,
and drinks his coffee neat ,
and prays every single night
for love to enter in “ .

Yet the wind still howls in his house that time forgot .
But not his God he won’t ever give up on him .

Now every day he cycles past what was once a bustling town ,
to the grocer at the railway store ,
who dos’nt know when to quit .
Who  tells him “ there’s a train a waiting on platform 1 ,
I’ve reserved a seat for you ,
fast train to easy town ,
it’s a waiting just for you ‘
But he won’t leave just cycles home with a smile that says not today..

Past where all his friends once stopped to pat him on his back ,
for they all left for the bigger stones ,
at easy town ,
where the people who wear Jackel masks  just want to crack their bones,
and spit them out for tea ,
for their lust and debauchery .
But he won’t be leaving to catch that train ,
not today ,
at least not today .

That dog that climbed to the top o the great pyramid
Had more than a touch o the jackel
Panting ,looking down ,481 feet off the ground
People aghast at how it could happen

He's a dog! I opine
So just keep in mind
That's what some brave doggies do
He's not got our fear
He just wants to bound clear
O the earth
And our human to-do

There's ancient peace up there
He projects back through the years
To be with his full blooded ancestors
Stood at once near the peak
***** his leg for a leak
At ease with his familial protectors.