Analogous to fire breathing
puffed up imaginary dragon
(in a land called Honah Lee)
ye might rightly think
what the deuce
haunting spectre ace of spades
goodfella aiming to be a poet all about,
meaning sexagenarian wordsmith,
this once upon a time jackanapes
presently decked out like cadaverous card

I remember
way back into my childhood

I would laugh and smile
with friends I did not like

I would engage with people
who had wronged me

I forgave people
who never apologized

I thought fake smiles and gritted teeth
was normal

This normalcy carried into adulthood
people pleasing

Staying in broken, neglectful,
abusive relationships

Only now do I realize,
it was never normal

and it's time to rewrite

I'm taking a long black train
coming along with dark rain.
It's pouring down profusely
I won't take this abuse.

I'm looking for lightning
to bury my pain.
I don't think
I'll be here again.

To this place where
my real suffering began.
I'll bury my weapons
deep in my brain.

Confront the demons
again and again,
but it might never negate
all the pain.

I sat there
Transfixed
By the beauty of the poems
The exposition of personal issues
And the amazing words.

I became one of those tortured souls
Willing to say what was in my heart
And on my mind
And I did so willingly.

The rawness of the emotions
And the words
Moved me.

The willingness
To give people a space
To say what they wanted to say
To respect them
Was overwhelming.

Crack off ya quakkers
frack off Peter Glutton
as you know- there’s more than tres effies
You got Peter Glutton, Jimmy not a Fallon
and the Letterman spacemen
but Musky, Gill Bates & Fuckerberg aren't the main
culprits of the melting icebergs
so let us come together to spread love not hate
I’m talking about a bit of peace and unity
where you can be free to be who you are
not what others want you to be
so let Jeff Bezos put the besos into Bezos
cas he’s not one of them

In my mind religion
has no place or time.
I've forgiven everyone
in the race that I've run.

This is just my point of view
bridges have been burned.
People in their lves
don't seem to have the time.

They just can't sit and talk
to comfort an old friend.
With thier stale trite sentences
nothing can be done.

Maybe if they'd change their tone
I could divert my own mind.
Back to a more peaceful time
when it had more meaning.

My song is yet unsung!..

My chance to sing
Came through another person
Who needed a life-giving operation
And I was tapped to replace this person.

My connection with this person
Is very strong.
I almost feel
As if
This person's strength
Has passed onto me.

In a very real way
I must work hard
To earn this person's respect.

In doing so,
I am acknowledging
My interconnection with people in the world.

I use my voice
To sing out loud
To express my strength of character

I penned the moon, a glow on winding streams,
The murmured breeze, the whispers trees would share.
Yet though the words would sketch my wistful dreams,
The rhythm wavered, drifting unaware.

I learned to lace the metaphors I spun,
To thread my thoughts through meters’ measured strands.
The moon, my muse, my mammy long since gone,
Her stories etched by these, my willing hands.

I kept trying to traverse a chasm before me,
seeking a presence I longed for, but never offered
on a barren range dotted by clouds in the distance.

It took me some time to realize
there were distances that couldn’t be reached
by trying to get there.

A MIND OF HER OWN

Yes, of course she deserves to be heard
A human being like any other of course
Well, not quite, as considered by some
By many, in fact, as in several cultures
Where men, for millennia, dominated
Yet still do, even in an enlightened age
Maybe it’s just about physical strength
Well, stamina is a different attribute
In plentiful supply in the weaker sex
Oh, did I just say weaker, I’m sorry
Strength manifests in alternate ways
With discrete and conscious thought
Every woman has a mind of her own