Posts for June 25, 2022 (page 5)

Category
Poem

The Bible

is not the fucking “word of god”

was written by old white men to retain power

is sexist
racist
homophobic
classist
ageist

i get the motivations of politicians
at least they have a reason to oppress others 
(see to retain power)

but to all the pro-birth voters,
do you get off on listening to whatever the cult leaders tell you?
is your life’s purpose really to force others into your beliefs?

one day after all of this is over
and our bodies have desiccated under the earth
i’ll pity everyone who suppressed their true desires
for some fascist priest that died thousands of years ago.


Category
Poem

Alchemy (June 24, 2022, upon the Supreme Court’s ruling against Roe vs. Wade)

One vial for raven magic—
afternoon moon embraces her
sun blues her feathers
she banks–one wing strokes river                                    
                                        the other steeples in the apple-chilly air  

Second vial for bone alchemy—
heels & toes swim in soil
grass beatifies knees
pelvis sways in mistral
chest rises with hills, falls with flurries                        
                            skull emerges as snowflake—rime    rib    ridge

Another vial for seahorse sorcery—
crescent tail curls around coral
spring tides ballet her brown body
her belly to his, eggs surge into him
                                        she gallops upwards & away  
 
Last vial for volcano conjury—
magma honeycombs mantle
electric orange mounts dome
stone flows
roots shudder
                         at lava’s red glare & rock bombs breaking in air
                                                    to make way for Beltane’s
                                                                 strawberry moon
                                                                                under                                                            
                                                                  which all choose                                                
                                                     their own paths.

                    


Category
Poem

House, Circa 1911

I am losing the war of
natural aggression; the urban
forest creatures are kicking
my Snow White ass.

The cat brings tiny
perfect-toy-looking mice,
half alive, passive-aggressive
offerings of
sympathy for my poor
hunting skills.

The winter attic
squirrels emerged in
spring with their
babies, abandoning
nest when
May heated up, only to
squat on the roof of
the garage, using the
electric wire and
fence-lines as their
tightropes to start
turf wars, chitter-taunting
each other
in the treetops.

The chipmunks
chase and scatter the
back patio while
the cat attempts to
tunnel out the
glass back door.

It will be the
ants that do me in.
The organized
labour party rises up
from the kitchen floor
vent each morning, 
seeking abandoned cat
kibbles and sticky trash.
I have resorted to
placing the cat dish on the
dining table which
is the sleeping throne of his
choosing anyway.

When friends come over I
will move it, wipe the table down,
and of course
scold him when
he jumps up there, as if
scandalized by this new
level of audacity, as if I have
everything in hand, but
we will both know
the truth.


Category
Poem

I/Me/My/oh Why?

Isn’t
this
world
confusing 
enough?


Category
Poem

how do you think I’m doing today?

click headset on. 
good morning. 

good morning,
how are you doing today?

I hesitate.

today seems like the one day I’m allowed to be honest. 

but people only ask to be polite. 
they just want their cup of coffee.

I’m doing alright today. 
what can I get for you?

every time I say it
I feel like I’m betraying a part of myself
again and again
and again.


Category
Poem

An Encounter

Just stepped out my front door
into the early morning darkness
almost stumbling over an armadillo
on the dark shadowed walk.

It waddled away in its primeval armor
and I watched myself stop abruptly
and let out a soft cry
hands clutched tight to my neck.

This is what fear looks like.


Category
Poem

Trelle

The sadness grows
summer’s gone
autumn’s here and falling fast
winter comes
and you aren’t here

O lost and by the wind grieved, O ghost, come back again.

Two weeks after you were killed
the baby’s fever was one hundred four
went to the phone to call you
it was winter, earache and sore throat time
you aren’t there

Spring slowly emerges
gets frostbite and re-returns
I drive by and watch for your bulbs
to raise their brave heads, at flowertime,
someone cut the buds for a quick demise

The old man, empty and alone without you
had a slower death
than your tulips, crocus, daffodils
it was spring,
you did not come home

Summer came
I furnish yellow squash and beans
and at garden harvest
there was a new malignancy
Summer, another crisis, you’re not here

Autumn comes brings 
bright golds, olives, rust, dull browns
the best colors are back
no fun withiut you here
a new fall, it’s been a year


Category
Poem

Mind-bending

Yesterday 6/24/2022

i am befuddled
not by the decisions of 
a bunch of old people in robes,
but by a country that gives
power to money driven
old conservative white men
and women who will not be impacted
by any decisions they make

i am distraught for my daughters
for living in a country that doesn’t
recognize women or immigrants
or natives or brown or black human
beings as being equally valuable to
white males

i am worried for our boys
who see their sisters, mothers,
aunts and grandmothers diminished
and who are told by society that
they are the chosen ones 
if they are white and have money
they will never have to be
accountable for their choices
but their female counterparts will

I am heartbroken that women
are willing to undo their own 
daugthers’ and granddaughters
futures by taking away their 
rights to control their own bodies

how do i teach my children to trust
when all around me i see abuse of
power, wealth and humanity

what happened to seperation of
church and state

how can you take rights away
from women while giving more
rights to gun owners

how can you take rights away
from women but
carrying guns into schools
to massacre innocent children
and teachers can’t be resolved

what do we value –
wealthy white people with selfish
opinions and power

i am sad

Today I Value …

Love
Truth
Freedom
Justice
Acceptance
Courage
Integrity
Grit
Perseverance
Nature
Arts
Self discipline
Humility
Forgiveness
Peace
Mindfulness
Differences
Similarities
Humanity

KW 
6/25/2022


Category
Poem

Gravity

Gravid belly leads
                                  Inexorable vomit
                                                                   Labor supervenes


Category
Poem

Awe

The important thing about
a heron
is the silence after.