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Supernatural

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Supernatural

She’s supernatural, my cosmic kin,

forged at once so long ago, now together again.

Comfortable companion through eternity,

she’ll always find a way to return to me.

Fearsome defender, but with a soft touch;

she gives her everything, doesn’t ask for much.20170423_162757_HDR~2

Together in stillness, for me it’s enough;

she’s always nearby when things get tough.

With an intelligence that’s second to none,

her muchness just can’t be outdone.

So fierce, so brave, so misunderstood;

she’s lived through more hell than anyone should.

She is her own, but somehow also mine,

two spirits linked with a psychic line.

All beauty pales next to her light;

an earthly star, she’s still so bright.

Olive eyes shine forth from a stone facade,

relic from when she was worshiped as God.

Still my Queen, picture of magnificence,

she’s well aware of her own significance.

Fabled, famed- Supernatural

mistress of mine, a grimalkin called Nell.

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Don’t Be Nice to Me

You could cut me ’til I bleed,
drain my life away.
It won’t hurt so bad-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could force me to my knees,
lay me ‘pon a bed of nails,
or burn me at the stake-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could call me any name,
you could tell me any lie,
say the shameful things I am-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You could turn your back on me,
leave me shirtless in the cold,
watch me freeze to death-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
You can beat me,
choke away my breath.
You could even lock me up-
Just, don’t be nice to me.
*
Kindness is a deadly weapon,
there is no defense.
No other pain akin to this.
So please, don’t be nice to me.
*
My head may know the truth,
but my soul has been miswired.
Pain is a relief, and pleasure my agony.
So please, don’t be nice to me.

The Dirtiest Word

Shocked, scared sick, stupid

All these things I am

Never should’ve told her

Foolish to seek comfort

There’s never any comfort

Just wanted her love

Now I’ve her sympathy

Humiliated

Ashamed to have told

Bruises, belts, broken paddles

Fits of temper

Headlocks

Hitting every stair

The truth feels guilty like a lie

She hurts for me

Calls it what it is

But that word isn’t mine

Try to backtrack

Change her mind

Afraid I’ll be in trouble

Scared he’ll be as well

Defend him

Say it’s not his fault

Find a way to get away

Go back home from camp

What you know

Is safer than what you don’t

It’s ok, you’re used to it

You’ll be eighteen someday

Pop-pop, the Pajama Cat

Pop-pop, the Pajama Cat

He’s a pajama cat,

a bit saggy in the knees.

His middle’s kinda fat,

sneaking, eating too much cheese.

He’d look fine in a hat,

except cats do as they please,

so he’s more apt to chat

in dainty slippers, like these,

or sporting a cravat.

High fashion, in some countries.

*

He chases all the girls

but has hardly any luck,

though he dips and twirls.

He’s really not a hunk.

When they mock his neat curls

or when they’re quite clearly struck

by his string of rare pearls

he cries, then gets very drunk

and dances ‘til he hurls,

or his fancy pumps get stuck.

*

Sometimes he prowls around

clad in a grocery sack.

Sometimes worn like a crown,

or else Supercat attack.

He’s looking to astound

with his clever fashion hack.

He usually ends up bound

up in the sack, without much slack,

begging help from the hound

who frees him with a smack thwack.

*

To the friends in his head

he’s loyal when they’re in need.

He tucks them into bed,

he fulfills their every need.

He checks the mirror for Fred,

he pays for all their weed,

and gives them stuff to shred.

Pop Pop’s friends are real indeed,

at least that’s what he said

when he left in his best tweed.

For Sage

For Sage

No one knew her history.

No one knew her name.

She was old and whiskery,

yet no one for her, came.

*

The kitty was on discount.

We saw her through the bars,

so frail, and of small account,

but eyes like forming stars.

*

We brought her home that same night,

already so in love.

We learned she had little sight,

or much health to speak of.

*

She was sassy for her age.

She was bossy as hell.

She was full of fire,  our Sage

with her old lady smell.

*

At night, whiskers in my ear

or a weight on my chest,

letting me know she was near

‘fore going to her rest.

*

With each and every morning

came her yowl at the door.

“You’ll be late,” she was warning,

“And my food, I need more!”

*

From the beginning we knew

our time would be too brief.

Each moment with Sage flew,

turns out, time is a thief.

*

Just because I know it’s right

doesn’t make it simple.

You’ve given all to this fight,

it’s time, I’ve your signal.

*

Now, Sage, I’m putting off sleep,

it’s my last night with you.

There is naught to do but weep,

my heart is broke in two.

*

So Sage,  here is my goodbye.

This is my love letter,

my vow, my last lullaby-

I’ll love you forever.

If You Hear A Whisper

If You Hear A Whisper

If you listen closely to the cool night air,

I think that you’ll find some whispers there.

The silence isn’t quiet and the darkness isn’t black.

Don’t turn ’round too quickly when there’s someone at your back.

Visions from the shadows aren’t what they seem.

You’re seeing what you’re seeing and it isn’t a dream.

You may think you were chosen, but that isn’t the case

And if you try to touch them, they’ll vanish without a trace.

Life in the darkness has its own set of rules;

Step into the light and we’ll all seem fools.

Hear what you want, see what you will, try until

you can control it with your own free-will.

The night belongs to you and you to the night;

It’s a part of you, neither wrong nor right.

Voices in the darkness are nothing to fear,

even when the visions are blindingly clear

’cause the things that you see belong only to you,

and the words that you hear will never come true.

The Cat in the Shack

Dedicated to all of the lost and unloved pets.

Newborn Kitten

It was such a cold night,
and the storm, was quite a fright.
All the trees were thrashing,
and a fierce wind was lashing
at the loose wooden slats
of an old, decrepit shack.

The roof was sagging in
and had long since lost it’s tin.
The windows were broken,
and the door hung wide open,
dangling from one sad hinge.
In the wind it seemed to cringe.

It was on this raw night,
that this shed lessened the plight
of one, very small cat;
thin, but her belly was fat.
‘Fore long, she’d be a mom,
but she wasn’t very strong.

Coming in from the storm,
it felt so wonderfully warm.
Maybe, she’d be alright
if she could survive tonight.
Courage rose up inside,
that would not soon subside.

The tiny cat soon found
a, very nearly, dry mound
of leaves and sweet wrappers,
and she almost gave some purrs
as she calmly laid down.
Ere long, she was labor bound.

The storm was at it’s height
while mom pushed with all her might.
Lightning lit up the sky
and the thunder crashed nearby
as the first kitten came.
A mother, without acclaim.

The storm had finally gone
leaving behind a red dawn,
and three minute kittens.
Completely helpless orphans,
still crying for their mom,
still snuggled, to her bosom.