Posts for June 30, 2020 (page 4)

She calls you at end of day, to sit by her bedside as the mint freshly crushed for her tea whispers through the air to spread rumors of what it has seen on its way to those lips, the crimson bow that will tie the night’s suitor for seduction and surrender, for disposal in the obscure depth of her history or exile to another life. The unpredicted difference is your voice defining chapter or verse you wrote on the scroll you randomly bring to weave a mood, the never rejected offer from a sister-lover she will neither expel nor entomb, a gift brought for one or three, though you are never privy to the acts between two. 

on Cool, like Colors, color Rich
found it all today, before you couldn’t obtain, wanted
who could blame, purchase price never incentivized

on Cool, like Colors, color Rich
heard it all replay, after communities consume, needed
why not spread, messages mean less commercialized

on Cool, like Colors, color Rich
saw it all delay, catch up for the come up, wasted
what was past, generation lessons fall unrealized

on Cool, like Colors, color Rich 
smell it all decay, branded for masses on end, faded
when all washed, cultural worth all victimized

I don’t know about this getting old business
Fountain of wisdom one day and useless the next  

Hustle bustle and too many naps
The question of which stories are worth telling in the end  

I fantasize about one last grand gesture
Chaining myself to the White House fence with a sign that says Stop Him

My heart.
Worn on a sleeve of paper, words tendered.
Muse of yesterdays, todays and tomorrows,
your love pours over and out of me,
and cannot be contained 
in black and white. 

*Thanks to all of you for sharing YOUR words. This has been a great experience and I’ve enjoyed reading your contributions. Love, LB*

kafka was a vegetarian
fishing
through leaves and roots and vegetables 
deciding ethics
were better off left
to the world who refused 
to realize
they were meat too.

The Stand-in mask slips and pinches
Unable to stifle tears or pain
Filtration layer at fault?
Was contamination inevitable
From the moment the Original slipped
To breathe freely to taste the world?
Are tears the price of admission
To the land of the living
Or the dying?

A red wheelbarrow
Rolls in white space
Chipped paint
And rust

Apple half-eaten
Stain on the rot
Function and rough use
Bright steel
Under lipstick
And prayer

Grey hair and
Cobwebs
Blue smoke ages
On the window glass
Or mirror
I wandered lonely
As a cloud

Distant purple
Borderland at dusk
The open furnace closes
Fire over water
The storm birds of silence
Yield to the cricket
No relief

Incense memories
From the pores and
Eyes of the church
Pink marble altar
Green silk vestment
Moan of an organ
Grey night fallen
Quiet as velvet
On a stained glass
Image

The Halo head woman
Prays in remembrance
Her hands are vanished
Her mouth is darkness
The deep iron veins
Separate form from color
I have met them
At close of day
Changed utterly
A terrible beauty

Insecurities 
are
like flies,
they never 
leave you
alone
until someone
sweet
comes along.

                                                                     my mother
                                                                          Jean Addington Adams

My mother was famous for her quotes (and this
one is no exception)

As, per usual, she was right.

After she was in hospice five days, after constant morphine
drips (that would kill anyone!) her feet began to turn blue,
the lips I kissed non-stop turned an obscene gray.  We prayed
the Lord’s prayer.  I wanted to crawl inside her but a nurse
stopped me.

We watched, we waited, we cried.

When she left, died, passed, went away –

an eagle tore loose within me –
soared through the black night –
covered me in light.

It was a snap of time out of time.

It is so hard to give birth.

Contained wildness.
Is that an oxymoron, like
Organized chaos?

It is what I ask for 
In my backyard, but is 
At odds with the desires of others.

My modus operandi
In a nutshell.
Unlimited wildness is frightening.

I step outside the box …
But just with one foot.
Testing the waters.

Yet, my reputation remains
Slightly unruly.
Not always the “good girl”.

Admonished many times,
As a child, to
“Look before you leap”.

Rebellion was
Jumping in with both feet.
Damn the consequences.