Disguise
Hour 15 – 9:00 PM
Let me breath.
Can’t catch a break.
I’m a mess, on the near edge of greatness.
Won’t rest till I conquer the latest.
Achievements are blessing disguised in distress.
– J.C. ©
Anthology At Break Time
I’m on my way out the door
Sailing on a paper cloud
Of Greek mythology sprinkled
With the fighters of Jim Crow laws
I keep trying to hold on to the desk
But Dixie Peach,Rome and Italy keep giving me a secret glimpse
Of all that I have been missing
Muddy boots on a kitchen floor
That have never been part of the plan
Keep catching my eye
Like that tall blond with the poodle like Lucy,except for it’s not red
You know what I mean
Brothers dribble ball on the asphalt
In my lane
And I’m distracted by every single image
From the pink elephant,to the Black Barbie,to the unhappy executive in the bright green boots
Yeah,I’m on my way out the door
But I’ll be smiling all the way out.
My house
My house
Grows in the trees
With flowers and moss
On the roof
Chickens and geese
Live so near
I can hear them clucking
And hooting
In their dreams
The wind sighs
Through the branches
Rough pine bark
Is only a hands breadth
Away
Sap hangs like
Turpentine gemstone
Sticky on fingers
Sweet and biting in mouth
Linden grows just
Over there
Spade shaped leaves
Beside the apple tree
Silence and peace
Except for the crack
of the fire
And the creaks of the trees
I lived there so long
Now it’s just in my dreams
… And in my every cell
Somethings will never
Be far from me
Some beauties
Are just too deep
Martha Stewart and My Raw Chicken
I learned how to cut up a raw chicken 27 years ago by watching Martha Stewart on TV.
I spread waxed paper on the table and grabbed a kitchen knife,
The wrong kind, of course.
How was I to know the difference between a butcher knife, a paring knife, a steak knife, or any other kind of knife?
I watched Martha gracefully slice through the chicken,
Cutting easily through the bones
Without even getting any on her blouse.
I was a mess,
Sawing through the fowl thing like an untrained laborer cutting a log with a dull saw,
Chicken blood and muck spread all over me.
After the show was over and Martha declared her chicken a “good thing,”
My chicken didn’t look like her chicken.
My coffee table didn’t look like her kitchen counter.
And I didn’t look like Martha.
I cried.
Then I cooked the chicken and cleaned up my mess.
I put on clean clothes and makeup and did my hair.
When my husband came home I served him the chicken,
And he loved it.
I smiled.
I felt like Martha Stewart.
The answers to the questions
Cometh this day
Together with the divine
Fear not you will be led and directed to
The place of the answers to the questions
That you ask
Fear not, trust these answers will
Come at times when things fall from the sky as a sign
Look and listen from above and below
The answers are in everything that we see
And the actions of others
Your feelings from deep within your heart
The place of truth and knowing
Trust, trust, trust
Remember always that you are loved.
Poem 16
I reach my hand into a box
At first I feel nothing
Then I feel another hand
It grabs my hands
At first gentle but gets tighter
Then it starts to pull my hand
Into the box I start to go
When it lets go I stop falling
There in front of me are two doors
One says, “To Fall more”
The other says, “To be broken”
The second sounds painful so I choose to fall more
I walk through the door and start falling
But this time I choose to fall
It feels like I’m falling forever when I finally stop again
This time there is only one door
It says, “To be broken”
I have no choice to go through the door
I take a step into the door and pain rips through me
Then I’m standing in front of the box again but now there is a sign
“Love”
#16, Missing Birthday
Happy Birthday.
Or it would have been.
Chocolate cake and chocolate milk .
Your safest addiction.
Fun and laughter
Teasing and presents that make you cry and smile
Hug us.
“Your girls.”
Dad would kiss you.
You both so in love you look like teenagers
Ill never forget what love looks like
Maybe never live up to the story of your love
The grandness of it.
Now all that is left is what was.
Three years.
Almost three you have been gone.
Forever and a second in a single heartbeat
The absence in my heart is a sucking wound.
A sink hole in my chest.
You could fit the Titans in it.
I miss you so
Would give anything to wish you
Happy Birthday to your face.
Make you smile.
All that remains are the memories
Our broken family
An empty house
Falling into the dirt
Rotting.
Spoiled
Gone…
Gone…
Gone…
Why did you have to go?
Castle Walls and Secret Halls.
I hugged against the stone cold bricks,
As lanterns lit my way,
The darkness in the corners,
Had never seen the light of day,
My steps rung out beneath me,
Bouncing free from wall to wall,
But still I dared continue down,
The endless castle hall,
I heard the world above me,
Heard the town-folk come and go,
Not knowing that a secret,
Was escaping far below,
Then like a light tsunami,
Sunlight flooded through my eyes,
A message I had made it,
Safely to the to the other side,
These people wouldn’t miss me,
Not one small soul would give a damn,
So I gathered up my last resolve,
And to the hills I ran.
Sandcastle with thorns
Silence. Muffled thoughts.
Lifeless body staring back from hollow eyes.
Dark circles covered with
shiny stars.
Pouty lips and smeared colour all over
your cheek in a peculiar shape.
At the back of your palm, she said;
“Your future is written”.
Protruding veins and specks of bruises
in violet and yellow sunshine.
It almost loks like the scales on a dragon.
whole
i carve out intricate pieces of you-
a twinkling eye
a chiseled jaw
a strong hand
two long legs
i melt your pieces together
make you whole again
the way you make me when i’m with you.