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Tag Archives: Life

Mother

Born out of time,

as ancient as fear.

Waiting, waiting, waiting

for the clock to strike,

for the bolt to click.

Peering through the keyhole-

visions of time, not yet right.

***

Timeworn beauty, old and young

Her face is known-

Keeper of Destiny,

Mother of Fate.

Her heart, heavy in her hands-

beating with the seasons-

’tis the key to every door.

***

She can feel the thinness of time,

the heat from the very flame of existence.

A thousand, thousand lifetimes

in the passage of a second.

She mayn’t control the river,

still everything is known-

the stream of time runs through her.

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Extremes

To feel all life deeply, not just my own

To feel nothing at all

Thoughts, feelings crowd my head

All sensation reduced to sepia

Sleeping all day

Hating myself all night

Excited about life, no one’s better than I

Afraid of the doorbell

Fuck with me and I will end you

Come here, love me, possess me

Your love is disgusting- repulsive

The storm and the windless sea,

That’s me

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.

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.