Poem 18
You called me fat
You called me ugly
You called me freak
You called me stupid
You made fun of me
You made me hate myself
You made the decision
You were the one that put me in this bed.
sometimes a mother’s love isn’t medicine
I have two daughters
but one child
she has no siblings
but there are two of her
the one that held my hand
and laughed at my smile
and asked me questions,
sitting on the kitchen floor
viewing me as a skyscraper
and the one who
thinks blood shot eyes are the new black
and that lying is
a solution
she collects bottles of alcohol
and lost count of her
one night stands
every new one
is a reason to stop
for twenty three hours
and then the reason
binge
so close to death that
the graves become pillows
a mother would rather be blind
than watch a butterfly
lose its wings,
when it can’t be called a caterpillar
__ar.
(Addictions poem from the perspective of the mother)
Song of the deceased
The worst is oblivion.
Pain can be delightful;
It is sensuous to me now- sexy.
I yearn for sharpness, stinging,
aching, burning, crushing…
Heartache! Now there’s a thing to be desired-
Prized above all;
It is the best of pains
For it makes one feel most alive.
Take What You Give
Hour 19 – 12:00 AM
Find yourself through the bullshit
That’s the point of coming up uncrowned and making a fortune
Bestow to young one’s, knowledge and gold
For they hold the secrets to the futures mold
We’ve got to give it all that we’ve got
A hustlers mentality has never been known to stop
Penetrate the skin like a bullet wound,
Makes you feel alive, worthy, and fully intune.
There’s no life without death
So this motion is round, in a perfect realm
Take what you give and live fully renowned.
– J.C. ©
(xvii)
In a surreal tapestry of gossamer silk and sunbeams,
I have etched the beautiful contours of your face.
The somnolent eyes,
drooping as if a lotus-eater had sprayed the Sandman’s opiate into them,
the juxtaposed limbs heavy-wrought and listless
….you are a dream,
you are the rainbow fantasy in speckled and gold-flaked dust,
shimmering on heaven’s stairways
and bright-punctured like a lover’s acid sighs on the firmament.
You are the elusive
an ever out-of-reach mirage-evanescence
that quill-wielders speak in hushed awe-filled tones.
You are my fantasy,
my deliverance of sleepless nights
….and somehow, their reason too!!
masterpiece
3 pair of hands and arms and legs
touching-
3 hearts pounding while 6 eyes watched-
anticipating 2 lips or 4 hands
but no words were spoken;
2 breasts heaved when 6 lips sighed-
and 4 hands felt moist with lustful desires-
3 bodies undulated and writhed
to the sound of bolero on an old record player
in the corner
thoroughly enjoying-
exploring the meaning of art.
The Great Deity
In order to make room
He lifted the little girl
Up into his arms
Above her,
His face hovered
The very aspect of
The great Deity
Her mother taught her
That the rains that fall
Nourish the earth
And that even buttercups
Should not be
Thoughtlessly crushed
But he lifted her up
To his stubble covered chin
He would always be
More god than man
To his little girl
He would be her daddy
Lost and found
Lose yourself in the magic that YOU are.
We all walk the same road, uniquely, and made it thus far.
Without variety, we would be of no use.
Grab a mirror, sit down, to yourself, re-introduce.
24 hours of sanity, or lack there of.
Finding yourself drunk off the madness,
falling with whole heart, yourself, in the purest love.
How to Fly:
Compound eyes and sticky legs,
You buzz around their head,
You see it coming from afar,
One swat and now you’re dead.