HESITANCE IN EXPRESSION: Poems

America, 1865


Strawberries ripe

And red, bumble

And flounce against

Bulbous, globular,

Blueberries.

Their circumference

Generous,

Lay solicitous,

As oranges

To rival

Sit nearby.


Two canary

yellow bananas

Rest like a phone

To receiver, above

The heap.

Two casual Washington

Apples are thrown

Atop for good measure.


The sturdy wagon

Creaks to a stop near the

Boston River.

Picnic Day.


A diamond gloved hand

Emerges from the

Carriage expectantly.

A day from new

Beginnings.



Choose


Are you an earthly

Wanderer?

Do you know

Where you need to go?

Every soul has come

this way,

To Fork of Hills

Or Prairie Way.

Imagine you today

My friend where you

have need to go?


Consider not your

Circumstance, ill

shoes that you have on.

Neither thee considereth

Where it is that

you’ve come from.

You know by now

Just what you need.

You know by now, the

Way indeed,

Virtue and Life, or

Self and Greed?

Certainty?

Random Deeds?

The journey’s a bit more.


The time is come,

The hour’s nigh,

Choose my friend,

By now decide,

Of mountains and rains,

Haze and shade,

Where it is that you

Must go.



Cooing Couple


Do you love me Baby?

Yes I do.

Smoochie- smooch and

Coochie-coo.



Do you like my eyes?

Sugar bee,

La response es

Oui, oui, oui.



Do you love my bod?

How could I not?

C’est magnifique et

Oooh la la!



Will you ever leave?

No, no adieus,

My sweet amour,

My Pookie- Poo.




Daughter and Citizen


Socially inept

And drowning

In the depths of my own

Humor and wit--- which is

Really full of “it”...

But at the slightest glance,

My circumstance so

Aroused by misfortune

Can awaken a trumpeting

Melody loud enough to

Wake the dead,

Or steady the feeble,

Or bring fortune’s exclusivity to its

Knees.


But at last I find,

The power of the mind,

The knowledge of God’s Law;

Valiance, and purity

Have been my bounty---

leaving a legacy and

Trail to the

Outer worlds.



Dirty


Dirt, dust, that element,

Beneath my nails,

On soddy hands:

Debris from earthly

rocked- out tour.

Proof of life on Heaven’s shore.

Did I live?

Dang right I did.



With open palms where

Demons tread.

Writhed with serpents,

Flitted with fleas,

Amid the dirt and

Crumbled leaves.



Writhing in dust,

Like a snake in the sod,

With no regard for

Your men or gods.

No real kindness,

More or less, no

Charity, forgiveness---

SELFISHNESS.

Bogus of the choir.

Stranger of my house.

Thug on my turf,

Making my rounds.



The dirt always

beckoned from

Deep -inside:

“Hold now

steadfast

to your pride.

Pursueth not the

noble deeds,

What you WANT is

what you need.

What you WANT is what

Is real.

Remember now

Of pledges,

Deals.”



The dirt, it beckoned

to my heartbeat,

From the earth and

the core’s flames.

But what exactly

is the return

On our

Legacies?

Our names?

Our shames?


Will I be enshrouded

To existence as a man who

Despised the rules?”

Shamefully,

“Behold my pearls,

Beneath my way:

Rounded bliss as particles?”



*************


And there were words,

And there were wars,

And alliances were

Forged.

And there was grace,

And there was blood,

And there was hope reborn.



I clawed through the turf

like I’d been buried alive,

Escaping the pull of the core.

On the ground, now upright,

Enjoying life’s mirth.

slithering NOT,

truly dominating the earth.



Happy Poem


Happy poem

In yo face!

Happy poem

To fill this space!


Happy poem

To balance this book!

Happy poem

Is all it took!


Happy poem

Cuz I’m a bawse!

Happy poem

Connect the dots!


Happy poem

Of light and glee!

Happy poem

To you from me.


Happy poem

In spirit and style!

Happy poem

All glitter and

Smiles!



Him


So I read this book of

Rodrigo, a tall

Buff, strapping Latino

Man (in a bodice ripper).



I looked over one night at

Vance, my snoring

Negligent lover, and

Thought about time.



My life will soon be over.

I can’t imagine being buried

Til death in slight

And good intentions. Oh, and

Doughy, squishy flesh.



So I run off to Spain to find

A destiny to know, like

The buff, Latin man of the

Book of Rodrigo.



So I spend 2 years in their

University. So call me a

Fake, a fraud, it was a guise

For me.

I studied.

I partied hard.

I stepped out of

The lines.

Wild living, eyes wide open,

Searching to find,

That passion, strength;

A destiny to know---

Like the buff

Latin man

Of the Book of Rodrigo.


I dated locals, went to Mass,

A festival or two. None

Could compare (but a slim few)

To the verve, the power, the

stallion- hearted machismo,

the charge, the valor

of My Beloved Rodrigo.


I meditated, did yoga,

Burned ounces of sage,

In hopes to conjure the

Man of each page.

I need him.

I want him.

One day he’ll be mine!

I deserve his greatness,

my face a morning

glow,

From crazy, erotic lovemaking

With Beloved Rodrigo.


Mid- year 3 found me anxious,

In need of caress, and the

Warm, mushy softness

Of pillowy flesh.

To find Rodrigo,

I’d need to kill hellhounds,

Steal a jewel from a king

With the goldest of crowns.

Find a dragon’s nest of hatchlings,

The Egyptian sphinx’s nose,

I’d better go back to the

bed I know.


So, back to Vance,

With amends in tow,

And the worn out pages

Of the Book of Rodrigo.

Still at times, when it’s

Late at night, I reach out

When I’m all alone, to read

Of an old, dusty, destiny close

To home.


So many things I’ve

learned of me,

So many things I know,

Were brought to me,

From the buff,

Latin, man

Of The Book of Rodrigo.





Instagram


Vexing and complex,

Is your recent text.

Can’t you tell just

Who I am

From my last Instagram?

I post selfies everyday,

Posing in the flirtiest of

Ways.

Events, travel, even the dull;

I post

A lifelong chronicle.


I’m not just any girl

you know.

My likes are way up high.

So I really can’t understand

This forceful a “goodbye.”


I’ve made a career of

Elusiveness, now

You’re eluding me?

Damn, just how many

Shades of wonderful

Do I really have to be?


Love For Life


my lover,

my love,

I was drawn to you

like a ring to a bell.

my resonance

echoed and

Throbbed you...

and you alone.


This tormented

disconnect as

Ruthless as the

Choppy sea this

Evening.


The lapping of the waves

To shore

tears

At my cores.


But you will never be back,

You left this world so long ago…

You left me alone,

All alone…



Marked


Marked at birth,

betrayed by chance,

yet grit of earth,

and sustenance.

And can you glimpse

the slave girl dance?


She dances a constant

staccato, ever moving

and raging strong.

Heartbeat in key to

survival,

Footwork oppressively

long.


Who knows how long she’ll

labor ‘neath this

never ending song.

Yet she remains

ready,

and the people they

clap along,

to her grappling for

survival;

like the sight of a

drunkard’s strife;

like the bull in center

stage;

is the colored

person’s life.


It’s been said that

we’re just slaves,

on this

round and lonely

world.

But overturning

is the

power

of

the

dancing, slave- like

girl.



Me and a Page


Me and a page.

Like you on a stage.

Singing loud from pent up

Rage,

The pen and the mic.


Preacher to the hounds, versus

Mother feeding mouths,

Errands all over town.

The pulpit and the arms.


Bushman warrior so dark,

Compounding huts of

paste and bark, versus

Well-mannered

Loan shark,

They’re trying to make

it in this world.


Green to leaf, and leaf to tree,

Coexist in functionality,

So the story of a million lives,

Like buzzing bees over

dripping hives.



Obsession


Tossed and whirled

About my bed,

Your phrase rolls softly

In my head.

A voice of smooth

But scornful

Sound.

A phrase you can’t

Recall---

Rolls around

Seductively

As I turn

from wall to wall.


Writhing, grasping

Desperately

To life’s unhidden

Clues…

So often is the

Pride and heart

The softest place to

Bruise.


Your melodic voice

Playing in my head…

Snippets of the

Things you said…


Hold me now

And set me

free

Of manic-

style

Delusory.


Providence


An orange burst;

A climate change

clutched to

ruddy morn.


Dawn’s light,

Is made in rays,

Now,

Amidst the

meanderings of

Life’s commonality.


Breeze,

flutter by me.

Feather my

Face,

So softly,

With your affection.

Embrace me

as your child.

Let me breathe

your air, dream

your dreams.

Hope with new vigor,

Conjuring water to rock,

And rock to water,

As need be.


I desperately need your

Soulful solace.

Providence,

Fill my lungs with your

new

Imaginations.



Ruse


An enigmatic symphony,

As we go round and round.

Can you hear the swan song,

The infernal deathly sound?


All hope of love is futile,

There are no rules or truths.

A hall of mirrors

carousel, my

Friends we have a ruse!



Saline


From deep pools of capability

Lies the “Great Sea Octo.”

Deep within my reservoir core

lies this beast of your

most dreadful phantasy.


A slick and beautiful pink,

grey and blue,

Her majesty is shadowed

only by her strength.

She extends, arms out taking care

of this and that, this and that, and

Sucking hold of a million fruitful desires.


Her stylish swish, though endearing, is

Quite in contrast to

her engulfing defense tactic.

For, suctioned and tacked,

Obstructions flail,

Spurt, and are inked and

Blacked out to oblivion.


The Octo of the Sea:

The woman in you and me.

Powerful and abundant.

Our grey arms, they extend…

They extend…

They extend…


Her range goes for miles for you.

She’ll go for miles for you.

She’s gone for miles for you.



Selfish Greed


Pray for me,

a selfish soul,

led by the nose

with iron hooks,

made to dance lewd

before demons and men,

who ogle my chains of

pride and chagrin.


Eager is my mode,

Greed my Due North.

I’ve been the same way

from present, since birth.


A prideful chasm of

want and need.

A spiritual ball of

Selfish Greed.



Songstress


I need to be beautiful.

I want you to scream my name,

Out of riotous pleasure, or

Melancholic pain.


I want your soul too,

In lock and key.

I want your every daydream

To be only of me.


You see, I’m spiritual;

A goddess of sound,

An Aphrodite of music,

Of the here and the now.


Don’t stop or I’ll crumble.

Let me always be,

Your unattainable queen;

Your Celebrity.



Subway 11


Briefly.

A brush of

your hair

Across my shoulder.

The mingling

Of my masculine

And your feminine

Aroma on

the Subway 69 as

You leave.


One minute and

A half before,

Two seats away,

Your floating

eye met

My stationary one,

our psychic vibes

Bumping each other

to the

Rhythm of our

Jaunting subway

Vessel.


Though our

Eyes met not

Again, my

Retinas burned,

Seeing what

You were doing

At your seat,

And were leaving

To do.


The brush of

blond hair across

My collar bone,

And the mingling

Of two aromas;

Two worlds:

Masculine and

Feminine.