I know about lying on broken bones, beading into my back.
She was missing something.
She was lying on hands searching through the trench coat of a bathroom romance, watching butterflies melt,
She was becoming herself
At four thirty am I write her account, embroidered in a diary of lullabies,
“this is what death must feel like, being  left alone in a street screaming of footsteps and blacked out whispering.”
She threw deliverance, caked over old vengeance, out of the car window with daybreak’s kisses. She writes,
“I sit in the heavy sleet of the delta drowning in resurrection, grime from age wipes over me once,
twice,
The broken blood pools out of ‘I love you’s’ and islets.”
She slept with the darkness.
“Prayers don’t come for me anymore.”
She glitters, shivers, tactless as a teacup in an earthquake,
She is awake.
”I am awake.”
She documents God- "I feel God,"
- in herself. "In myself.”
There is a silence.
A burning, left, cold to dry alone,

This is for her.
Call it, my face, swathed in the impenetrable darkness when it is no longer my own, call it an aunt’s love when a mother’s doesn’t suffice any longer. Call it,
cigarette buds and elevator rides to death’s door. Call it power bubbling up from the violation.
This is for you; call it Cuban cigars, show tunes, and Marylyn Monroe;
call it misery. Missing, call it hues and paint, my life prostrated on a disgruntled canvas. Call it fate.

This is for you.
Call it liquor stains and tarot cards in a fit of ecstasy. Epilepsy, call it the most intricate balancing act of existence.
An unseen performance, a lyric with no voice,
“a cry in the night”
”a scream of supplication”
The hunters’ march to death, the Holy Grail’s melting between your fingers, civilization pouring through veins,
“death, destruction, life, happiness, Azrael, Abbadon, blood, Rome!”
“I don’t want to feel this!”
Call it whispers of unspoken meetings and witches in the night, threatening,
“I know you!”
“No you don’t! Leave me alone.” Recognition. “I don’t want to listen…”
She writes,
“I loved you…
On purpose and…you left me,
with,
myself.”

Women have rights,
Right to life and right to speech
Rights to love and be loved

Feelings and emotions running wild,
Right to vote and be voted for
Feelings of happiness running high

Not to be harassed or blackmailed,
Not to be abused and relegated
Women think too
Respect the girl child,
And tender her
Give her the right words
And build her ego

if a man can lead the world,
A woman can heal the world

Professor Marylyn-dolly©

It was piercing the way the day slowed in her eyes
As she felt the pain of been abandoned
It was shaking.

It was shaking how the cold stole her skin in the mid of the night
As she watched through her window pane, with tears in her eyes
It was harrowing

It was harrowing how her lights turned darkness
As she moved through time without any hope, wishing her life would end
It was fearful

It was fearful how darkness taunted her soul, and how she searched for light in darkness still
As she sailed in an ocean of endless misery, without any destination
It was blinding

Professor Marylyn-Dolly©

I put this here to greet you all
I love you all
You all have become like family,
From the Likes of Valsa George, Mother of nature poems, to Soulsurvivor, a brave heart... To Sydrivers, a romantic heart, who left here without informing me,
To KarenN, a conjuring poetess who also left,
To WL Winter, he's like a dear Father of poetry
To SPT, a poet with refreshing words,
To Ja, a must read
To Rosalie, F.... A woman of impeccable poetry, to James, the author of a dear poem to my heart "The candle on top"

To Kristy, a soul-moving poetess
To Vicki, a Strong poetess
To R, A brave Writer
To Professor Marylyn-D, A woman of colors
To Stephan, with poems of wonder
To Stephanie, A warming, calming poetess
To Melissa, with a beautiful smile and heart
To Victoria, writer of intellectual poems
To Mary, A woman of Class
To Jamadi Verse, A poetess that brings heaven to earth with her poems

To Evna-Luna, a friend with beautiful words, to all and all and all,
I greet you all,
I'm currently travelling a lot
But I'll be checking on here once in a while
I Love you all

*Ovi Odiete

In a shell darker than the devils mind,
I rise and fly through air until I see the light*


Marylyn-D©

I've made it 4 hours without my iPod
And I'm proud of myself
I haven't spilled blood yet
But you're pushing it darling
Without Metallica to calm me down
Your words take on a new sound
I have no Marylyn Manson right now
So you might want to ******* or bow
I might just break something
On you maybe, or myself
I'm not a violent person see?
So my angers turned inward on me
And the blade becomes my friend again
This dreadful off and on relationship
Drawing me in and spitting me out
And I honestly hate everything about
Everything that the blade touches
Evry thing it represents
But I just can't help it
It's already under my skin
Already a part of me
As I make a new line,
I tell myself just this last time
But we both know,
This blade and me,
We both know
I can't help myself

I’m sorry,
Who did you say you thought you were?
I don’t owe you an explanation
I don’t owe you anything.
You are not entitled to a complimentary map of my mind,
And my heart,
So you can know what buttons to press,
What strings to pull?
Because you’d just love to see me unravel, wouldn’t you?
Don’t you dare ask me to give you the benefit of the doubt
Because you have already proven my initial doubts to be reality
And I am done letting people in so they can destroy me,
from the inside, out.
I do that to myself enough.
When I’m at my lowest point, don’t come to me.
I don’t want your pity
What am I, a charity?
You have no right to feel bad for me
And you have no right to be mad at me when you text me and I don’t respond
Or you say hello and I look the other way
I’m done playing these games
And I’m done trusting where trust has not been earned
I am not somebody who you can expect to just open up about things I’ve taken years myself to accept
And you’re gonna have to respect that
I’m sorry,
Did you hurt yourself jumping to conclusions?
Because I hear it’s pretty far from the truth and that ******* that just came out of your mouth,
I hope you didn't hurt your fragile ego.
Wanna talk about me to someone else?
Great, that means you know better than to act up in my space
It’s almost a disgrace
How someone can be so two faced
But if you’re gonna be two faced, at least make one of them pretty
Said Marylyn Monroe
But I don’t think you understand how that goes.
They say what goes around comes around
And I sure hope that’s true
Because if that’s the case,
Karma will be knocking at your door very soon
Haven’t you learned your lesson?
I doubt it.
People like you, never learn.

They never felt the vibrations
Of the voices out of the walls
Like you did, never heard their
Ghosts call from the mouths of
Birds from the fields below
The asylum window, or felt
The cold embrace of depression’s
Touch, at least not over much.

They never counted the distance
From bed to wall from wall to door
And back again, never felt the pinch
Or punch of each new day, each new
Hour, never thirst for the next drink
That never came, that teased
And tormented like good old demented
You, you with the Marylyn Monroe
Walk, the Greta Garbo talk.

From the asylum window you
Would stand and stare and watch
The seagulls in the air, see the seasons
Change from hot to cold, from light
To dark and never forget your demon’s
Hold, your lover’s eyes, his voice,
His sickly smile, the way he touched
You that final time, and all you could do
After you stabbed him through, as an
Exciting encore, was to kiss his dying
Lips as you’d never kissed before.

AWESTRUCK
Floating through , fourteen steps from my view , she was the energy in the parlor. Politicals, 5 Stars, Ambassadors alike, each held a word on their tongue , blurt, shrug, defray, sparse and naked  of clamor ,how quickly caustic recourse surrendered , fourteen steps away , now all puffery gladdened to join Pageant extras. I wondered , were there moments Marylyn left her charisma askew? keenly aware  her hypnotic control ruled mostly the men , but the ladies too. Not with jealous eye but engaging admires no questionnaire could ratify. No one will tell cuz no one Can tell. Somewhere ago the accident became weapon , even 56 consecutive buys only a florist list. It was all too short. It is all majestically measured, above even the four carved granitely. Wishing only she cooed and whispered less in that one song, she hated that she showed up Jackie.
Bobby O