Death, the Last Visit
I must make my way to the exact spot
where my own life began, to give life again.
Although I knew the dangers I would have to face while on my path,
I still stared the grizzly beast directly in his eyes
and flew up stream.
I waited for the rain, though not alone;
others met their last day in the sun.
Now, I await my destiny in the place of my birth,
and as I watch the orange globes float
above me, I consider the chances of them taking flight
when I exhaustedly take the last breath given.
Anne’s Truest Confession
I smiled and told them,
“Think of all the beauty still left
around you and be happy.”
Inside of myself, I was shuddering
from the cold that I felt, within my heart.
I never spilled the black ink
that resides within my veins, instead
I tiptoed them blue, in the hushed
thoughts of concentration.
Captured within those small
walls, I begged for them not
to take me, not to peel the
flesh from my bones.
I tired of these lingering memories so
I allowed typhus to rape my body;
so that I could thrive, peacefully in my
eternal home.
Elegy for My Angel
Her eyes dimmed as though the
kerosene in her lantern had depleted
and then the light left…
It was fall of 1994, the world was full
of change. The foliage was slowly losing its color;
the world, losing its Saint.
I had foreseen her departing, her wings in sight.
They had always been there, tucked away
by the teal of her housecoat.
They were not covered in feathers,
but by the selfless deeds she had completed.
Gracious smiles and tears of gratitude
glistened among her back.
I would see the pain leave her face, her genuine smile returning.
The pain that had always been there, tucked away
by the lightheartedness of her laughter.
Her truth, eventually exposed by the deterioration of her own
gritted smile.
Without pain, her smile would return to
its brilliant innocence.
It didn’t seem fair.
She would have given the world everything
she had. She would have given the blue of her own eyes.
She was beautiful in blue.
She was beautiful in anything.
The same world she loved so much, expelled her love.
She loved her flowers, planted there near the porch.
She loved Jesus and the hymns that were sung on Wednesday.
She loved sweet tea.
She loved me, and I her.
But now she flies.
Beast…
He misses her,
He growls in furious frustration.
He knows that she could never love,
A beast as ugly as he.
Even still he waits,
Silent as the teapot…
Waiting for her to come.
Burdened and heavy hearted,
Longing for his missing piece,
Her slender form and graceful ways
Give balance to his beast.
He craves her warmth and solace,
The beating of her heart,
But who could ever learn to love…
A beast as violent as he?
Beauty…
The clock tells me its time,
He whispers softly in my ear.
The candlestick lights my way
As the teapot calls me dear.
I know that people are coming,
The walls tell me to beware,
An eerie silence follows
As I wander towards his chair.
He sits so solemn, here alone,
Watching as the petals fall,
Knowing people are coming to kill us all.
I whisper to him softly,
I can hear his labored breaths…
I wonder how it is that I
Could ever learn to love a beast?
Unfaithful
I shall not worship you
It is not required…
Take me into you,
Ravage my body,
And devour me fully,
Pierce my soul with your tongue,
Position my body in your direction
Delicately,
Bite my flesh, and lick the whelps
That he has risen on my beating heart.
Slap me, bind me, then
Release me, and inhabit my
Desires, liberate my mind
And call it,
Nirvana.
Red Warriors
Yesterday’s warriors marched in and out like arteries
amongst the rash that was spread over the green of the grass.
I planted a garden of corn, cabbage, and carrots. I imagined
the twisting roots intertwining under land
where the minuscule warrior awaited
his own harvest while peeping through the
hole of his condominium. Peering through
his darkened curtains, he saw the giant swell
of a green buffet emerging and believed it had been
plotted there for him to devour. Today, he believes nothing.
Today, I have slain the community in a fiery blaze.
Flamboyant
So what if I paint my face,
I do it not for your distaste.
Have you ever decorated your Christmas tree?
Well, that’s not much different,
Than me decorating me.
I do it for the festivity of it.
So I ask you again what of it?
I seen you glaring at me
from the corner of your eye,
Is it really me you despise?
Are you sure you’re not just jealous,
that I have the “Balls”
to do something so rebellious?
I have self made curves
that’ll cause many to do a double take.
It’s my own life here at stake.
This is something I’ve realized,
but this I’m sure will not be my demise.
I might expire in a train wreck or from fallen house.
But not by the hands of you
or your hot-mess spouse.
