Little Girls and Old Women

From the crib, taught to honor and obey
Little girls can’t find their way
Lips zipped against food and speech
Gotta stay skinny, gotta stay meek
Or lasting love won’t come their way
Submerging self, the price they pay
Striving to be who he wants her to be
She loses her and becomes his she

Put Prince Charming on lofty pedestal
Feed the ego of immature male
Make him feel like a mighty king
No matter the fact you’ll never be queen
For him, queens are the porn-star pack
Perfect dolls all waxed, maxed, and stacked
Standing by, always ready, willing, and able
Not real women…just juvenile fables

Poor little girls become old women
Before they realize there is no winning
For the wise, this epiphany brings joy
No more worries about pleasing a boy
Just march to the beat of your own crazy drummer
Pick white daisies in your own field of summer
Dance in the rain while the devil beats his wife
And lest it be you, carry a big suspicious knife

Image via Pixabay

Wings

the wings are still there
propped in a dark corner
of a forgotten room
since childhood

shaggy and moth-eaten
dull gray with dust
feathers drooping
beneath Time’s weight

they whisper of a dream
where anything is possible
where I can fly
if only I believe

and possess a child’s courage
to strap on gossamer wings
constructed of innocence and faith
and leap blindly into space

Photo via Pixabay

 

Eagle and Wolf

Eagle sails the azure heights
captaining impregnable thermals
serene, content, alone
distant from life
and love
and pain
wrapped in a safe blue cocoon
nothing can touch her
and she touches nothing

but…

from afar
she has seen Wolf
has studied him
his powerful body
thick warm fur
compassionate eyes
and wondered what
it would be like
to enter his orbit

would…

he stroke her chilled feathers
touch her with kindness
speak to her of love
of need
of want
of forever
build her a strong nest
that could withstand any storm
and the drought of long days

or…

would he lure her in
lull her with honeyed words
calm her with knowing touches
bewitch her
beguile her
break her
then tear out her heart
devour her cooling body
and spit out the hollow bones

so…

Eagle slows her descent
perches in the guarded tree
above the watching Wolf
stares into his eyes
into his heart
into his soul
but she can’t see
beyond all her clouded yesterdays
so she waits, praying for clarity

Wednesday’s Child

I was not born to be happy…

No bright star shone down on me
When I was dropped headfirst into the world
Red-faced, kicking, screaming
And placed in my mother’s arms—
The only true home I’ve ever known

Instead, a dark star witnessed my birth
Stepped out of hell’s black hole
Took me in its cold bony hands
And christened me “Wednesday’s Child”
Damning me to a life of woe

Not for me fair of face or full of grace
A clumsy witch with frizzy red hair
Who mounts her broom
And beneath an alabaster moon
Runs wild with the night

Night understands, night knows
What beats inside my heart
What tangles and twists my soul
It doesn’t question, doesn’t judge
Night is my beloved familiar

There’s a certain comfort in failure
A happiness inside misery
A pleasure in absent feelings
For a Wednesday’s Child
Who has serenely accepted her fate

For…
I was not born to be happy

Originally published on the Literati Mafia

Image via Pixabay

Crow

crow comes at night
invisible in the darkness
slips in the window
while she sleeps
burrows its sharp beak
into her seasoned flesh
and tears at
the most tender morsels…
doubts
insecurities
fears
savors the sour flavors
of being hurt
of being fooled
of being played
again…
she learns not to sleep
stays ever vigilant
least crow
swallow everything
her pride
her independence
her reason
her life…
in the morning light
sometimes she wonders
if crow is real
is a force without
or instead
lives within
a black cancer
of bone and blood
cawing chaos, while
beating sharp wings
within each breath
scraping claws
through fragile capillaries
frantic to escape
its self-made
prison…

Image via Pixabay

Immersion

Originally published on the Literati Mafia

it starts
and it ends
takes flight on dark wings
and soars from my pen

hell rises up
heaven falls
demons rush in
and pass through the walls
of the human psyche shored up
by gossamer gods and magic pills
tromp through mephitic mires of disbelief
brandishing swords, counting kills

nothing can protect you
not pleas, not prayers, nor unholy deals
from the metaphysical monsters I’ve set free
to nip and bite, sink razor teeth into your heels
and drag your bloody carcass down
into the tenebrous pits below
to rip apart your flesh
and feast upon your soul

it starts
and it ends
takes flight on dark wings
and soars from my pen

Photo from Pixabay

The Unknown

 

Originally published on the Literati Mafia

galaxies beguile and beckon,
mouths of black holes yawn.
I face the unknown, bent of body, but bright of mind,
not fearing the dawn
of old age that comes
to all stars, planets, and man.
I face the unknown, time running through my fingers
like grains of silvered sand.

Photo via Dreamstime

Apathy’s Ascension

devils, demons, and harridans
stomp with jack boots through my brain
trampling reason, trampling logic,
trampling all that is sane

razor teeth tear apart fragile trust
revealing perceived lies
sugar-coated in honeyed words
malleable untruths survive

venomous thoughts frolic and feast
leaving famine in their wake
an empty shell of a mind
filled with nothing, it breaks

and collapses inward
into the pit of passion’s death
taking a war-ravaged spirit
that at long last has found rest

Photo via Pixabay

Black Is

Originally published on the Literati Mafia

black is…
the color of the ocean floor
the color of the deepest well
the color of a witch’s cat
the color of a lover’s spell

black is…
the color of infinity
the color of a new-moon night
the color of secrecy
the color of a dream that never takes flight

black is…
the color of a broken heart
the color of a demented mind
the color of an empty life
the color left behind

black is…
the color I breathe
the color I see
the color I taste
the color that owns me

for black is…me

Photo via Pixabay

Her and Me

Originally published on the Literati Mafia

I can’t be
Who you want me to be
I am not her
I am only me

I am not docile
Can’t live on my knees
Can’t humble myself
Can’t beg pretty please

Been slapped in the face
Learned not to be weak
Don’t lean on anyone
Stand alone on my feet

Can’t hold on to trust
Can’t give you my all
Shaped by my past
I always look for the fall

I’ve tried to be
Who you need me to be
Can’t hold on to her—
That other me

She feels too little
She feels too meek
She feels too needy
Just too fucking weak

Not worthy of love
Not worthy of respect
A whiny, scared baby
You always have to protect

Can you love
All that is me
Just take me as I am—
Or walk away free

Because….

I can’t be
Who you want me to be
I am not the others
I am only me

Photo via Pixabay