"ruthie" poems
The smell of swiss fondue
a chocolate fountain
moist strawberries
angel food cake.
The smell of brunch buffet
apple turnovers
honey sliced ham
bacon and eggs.
The smell of exhaust
as we walk
to the chapel
up Oliver Street.
The smell of flowers
rainbowed daises
heart shaped lilies
a single red rose
on the broach
of your six year old
brother.
The smell of family
friends neighbors.
The smell
of your six year old
sister
beautiful Easter dress
sky blue ribbons
silk bonnet
blonde hair
smooth skin embalmed
because leukemia
doesn't smell.
Today
we will all
believe in God
or pretend
at least
for you, her sister,
her mother,
her father,
her twin brother,
and for Ruthie,
her chest buried
in tear soaked flowers
in a four foot casket.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:23 PM UTC
Motel moons, left of face
In room 12, a thing named Grace
She's missing ***** & he's missing eggs-
Band-Aids on the neck
Royal Hawaiian
Big Ad's A-Flyin' (Bye!)
Cowboys in black dusters
And aliens in track suits
Drinking coffee with the common man
Blue-hooded and faceless, walks by again
Third-reel-real headshot,
Kept as a souvenir by an FBI actor
A man can do a lot with his chin
Uncle Sam's tonic & gin
Not made to be an Earthling
Not fit to be an alien
Stars are flickering lights
On Big Empty nights
Three days in the desert
Minus pie sauce in the sky
What's in the blue suitcase?
Why the blue bowling shoes to get to that place?
"Just get on the bus, Gus...
... And get yourself free"
Blue-sky clouds on black
Whipped cream & jack
The United States of Aliens
And a Person in a circle
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
my younger sister
never allowed fun
to limit her imagination.
at a mere five years old,
she decided she wanted to become an ice cream truck driver
at six,
she wanted to save the world.
seven,
she wanted world peace.
eight,
world peace.
nine,
world peace.
ten,
love.
eleven,
a boyfriend.
twelve years,
nine months and three days,
lighter skin.
i remember her
questioning days in pre-school
what color am i? she’d ask.
and her inquisitiveness
never allowed black to be accepted
as a proper answer.
Ruthie, we share the same color
but not the same complexion.
too much melanin, not enough skin.
the people in your pigment are waiting for a prayer
to be prayed back to the hands that once found
power in praying.
let not the lashes of historical context blind judgment.
they oppressed our kind.
feared the golden in your flesh
so they bore a color wheel of acceptable shades
and suggested brown be bad.
she laughs at black jokes, but don't be one.
and somewhere between spanish sailboats
and slave ships
you lost the strength in stride.
you let them white-wash your worries
and bury your woes in waste.
they beat her blue until she bled acceptability,
not blackness.
But
pale isn’t perfect
and black isn’t bad.
embrace the dirt in your darkness
for what could explain the foundation
that fertilized your fancy
better than you?
your people stomped on grounds
they called home
and sprouted seeds of
brown
black
beautiful
babies,
you.
she questioned God’s existence today.
she questioned why her skin tone was
the color of disease,
but she knows not the shade of ailment.
our culture brought freedom
to a situation where we could only see *******
I want to tell her to not hate God,
not even close,
not even a little bit,
not even at all.
that our black is not rooted in shame.
that she should not feel ashamed,
or silenced,
or transparent.
I want to tell her to
enjoy the diaspora in her Africa.
she's thirteen today.
Nourish your plateau sister.
Find the strength in your coffee,
and never ever let the brown in your *** stop dancing.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
Ring-a-ring-o' Ruth, goin' round and round.....
Ring-a-ring-o' Ruth, goin' round and round
She dare not lose it, but she couldn't keep it
Not anymore
No, not anymore!
For the rings of Ruth
The one she wears, oh!
They keep her in her place
He keeps her mind in place.........
Dare not spill your red treasure on his floor
Oh poor woman, watch your step
Contain yourself...........
Daren't let him in, oh Ruth
No, daren't let him in, uh-oh Ruthie
Why lug around his le-ga-cy in your mind?
Of relentless rings of insanity.....goin' round and round.......
Ring-a-ring-o' Ruth, goin' round and round
Come on home, dear Ruth and flush 'em fears away
Watching you, my Ruth, I can see you from afar
Won't hurt you anymore, won't make you run away
Your heart will sing the Truth that the sands of Time will veil.
So, come on home, dear Ruth
Come home......
Come home!
Star Toucher, 13 March 2013
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
She has two toes
with a chubby nose
A sweet chocolate for her skin
with an oder of a toddler
In bite size she comes
but bites whenever near her
She eats like a turtle swallowing a melon
but sings with all the mellow
She sure can sting you like a bee
but kind as she always be
Her name is Ruthie
and she is a Blessie
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
We're all just praying for a miracle.
This mother has three children, she must stay.
We're all just praying for a miracle.
God, please take the mutation away.
God, she must stay.
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 4:03 AM UTC
With a name like Ruth
You know she’s a babe
Kickstart her heart
And she’ll tear you apart
Old in spirit
Young in body
***** and dusty
A compact, unclean model
Buzz-box motor
Straight down a highway
She’s got sixty horse power
She’s bucking bronco wild
Guzzling gasoline
Rocks out to old school rock’n’roll
She’s a Saturday night special
With a hippie ***** stamp
Jealousy rips up the road
And now I’m in a rage
But it ain’t her fault
I’m just materialistic
Miniature but mighty,
I don’t take her lightly
And I don’t know if it’s likely,
But I want that Ruthie to be mine
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC
Ruthie Ginsburg is gone, and we’re glad.
Trump has found her replacement to add.
Let us look on and cheer!
The appointment is here
And progressives now drive themselves mad.
From the ACLU to the Court,
Ruth promoted the right to abort.
You may claim she was God’s
but she seemed, by all odds
more a midwife of murderous tort.
Say hello. Ginsburg’s honor is spent.
The new judge now begins her ascent .
Ruthie’s star has gone dead.
A black robe . . . or a red?
(Only Jesus can say where she went.)
Postscript:
Amy’s IN ! (and appointed to judge.)
Rabid Liberal: curse not, nor begrudge.
Are you feeling resigned?
Your own team failed to find
Any dirt; not a stain nor a smudge.
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 4:47 PM UTC