hey Mrs. Butterfly

hey Mrs. Butterfly

i want to just say

that in all of my years

i’ve known of you

and the fire flies

lady bugs bumble bees

june bugs dragon flies

and most of God’s

perfect creations

when not hyper vigilanting

over my folks or the predators

my mind would drift away with you

the colors and the hues

the mechanisms made of truth

your wings and curly tongues

and the symbols afforded to you

from people who came before me

and the Egyptians how they loved

the beetle called the scarab

something to do with Khepri

and the rising sun

i believe it

i always have

i know i’ve let your beauty

and your meaning

float from my hands

but i want to say

that i’m ashamed

that i don’t know how

to describe you

my thoughts and my words

cold hollow and crude

those that have been prescribed

to me during my days of rebellion

in my eyes and in my memories

i can only describe the violets

on the hill as like the colors

of the bruising in the midnights

or the red of carnations

as the blood from my lips

for refusing to give in

or the grace in the flutter

of you the butterfly

in complete and utter silence

but before you send well wishes

and praises

i want to tell you

i’ve been no angel

i deeply hurt and failed to protect

the one who i should’ve loved first

but look it here

daisies and trees cacti

and geese all of the colors

in the rainbow high

and the moon and the stars

and Venus and Mars

i dig you man

and i’ve haven’t lost sight

that universe and the life in it

has always been beautiful in my eyes

even if the magazines

don’t think so

i know that i’m right

Mrs. Butterfly

i hope you can find it

in your perfect heart

to forgive me

for not being able

to knit you the

words that are worthy

of praise to your merit

violetear

they riot in the plumeria tree

the one with honey hearted blossoms

darting merrily in and out

electric buzz as their ruby throats

quenched by morning dew elixirs

blend with the sun

heart of the matter

i love going to the hills

atop Silver Lake

where i can see Hollywood

my home my western shore

my dusty concrete paths

winding with a promise

to all that we are alive

in the City of Illusions

and that life is no illusion after all

paradox is my goddess

and Los Angeles my church

my habit was my pope

and my grit was my curse

perhaps we all strive

to go back home to reconcile

the hemorrhaging broken vein

and that’s all we want

gaza

with a fissured heart

and tired hands

aching legs and broken words

i grasp loosely to

figure

out

what is happening to us

i created the west of my spirit

and was gifted the east of my soul

not a child of import

but yes a child of a pompous war

not of one tribal affiliation

but stuck in the carnal politics

of the complications in people

if you could touch me now

my coat of lesser colors

you could set me free

You and i crossing water

to mourn my tiny innocence

she hangs in the corner closet

pretty robin’s egg blue coat

with every year

that has crawled by

she fades away from me

conditional love

i guess i’ll see you

3 am works for me too

when you get here

climb into bed

shock my soul awake

with your cold hands

gunmetal lips upon my neck

your left knee shucking

my reluctant legs open

we say a few false words

we disagree on stupid things

and we pretend that we are civil

when all we are

when all we have been

are two wild and seething animals

needing to get fucked

to release pain and rejection

and forget the wars that we have fought

why are we so afraid

you even more so than me

why do you come here

what could i possibly offer

that you haven’t already had

from better women

is it my cunning

my tortured soul

my soldier mentality

or my willingness

to be your whore

in your world

i am nothing

you are king

in my world

you still don’t know

i exist and i laugh

at the complexity

of your thoughts

and your offerings

your confusion as to who

i am

let me tell you who i’m not

unlike the others

i will not play a part

you can’t dress me up

change how i breath

what i smoke what i drink

i

will

not

follow you around

send you love letters

or get a manicure

you want your cock sucked

you know i’m game

and like a good little baller

you know how i play

before the tantric show you want

i need to feel your collateral in me

bite me squeeze me hold me down and tease me

i won’t look into your eyes

because that’s when our problems start

the hearts start beating

like they’re one

and then you go and leave me

for Virgie

by the river

there’s a path

i bring her

coffee in the

morning and tell

her what the

day will task

at road’s end

i find her

home with little

dead flowers by

the door of

her secret world

no one sees

her no one

knows there are

many others that

walk through it

alone and never

say a single word

they smile and

sing and pray

the most melodious

and magic noises

from two toothless

lips do come

the black sparkle

in her eyes

uplifts the sting

in my own

pain as she

croons just for

me darlin’ never

lose your light

shroud

shroud

window at dusk

clove cigarette

clings between wet lips

diet coke

dangerously close to keyboard

sad tired eyes

the color of gypsy moss

blood trickles

from her nose

at times

thoughts bounce

like dandelion pappi

blown from the tiny lips of babes

and at times

an invisible pang

slightly electrically melancholic

in the middle of the chest

looking down to see

how people such as we

just all wander

on Spring street

she thinks with slightly damaged brain

do they see as i see

she feels the wounds of the mistaken

and soothes the misguided vigor of the innocent

the sweet sweat of gardenias

distract the ghost

locked in her heart

life becomes less ordinary

and so she sits to write

out the fabric of her soul

libertin lâche

kiss my cheek

lie to me

mercy given tonight

losing something

not mine

Sweet poison

sweet poison

one dishonest caress

i know

you’ll run

to her

raven beauty

young supple

mind big tits

and designer smile

it’s ok

i play the game

i’m banging

the green eyed philosopher

on Wilcox place

can we just be honest

it’s ok for me to say

i like sex

it’s ok

for you to have lady friends

as long were all cool with it

and take responsibility

of not spreading germs

or making sweet babies

to suffer in vain

i know i started off nice

life is not nice

but we can be nice

if that’s what we want

the philosopher knows

you know about him

it’s ok if you bring her

i like your touch a lot

love is for others

but not for my heart

4th grade

red sun walks down toward the water

little flecks of black move to and fro

it just birds ushering her red highness

to her nocturnal resting place

when i was a kid the other kids laughed

when i drew a picture of soft round hills

and the sun with long red locks and sea shell pink lips

they said the hills looked like asses

and my sun looked like a witch

i don’t recall feeling anything in particular

i just left the class and walked away

and now that i’m grown up

that memory comes and goes

and i wonder what happened to those kids

with no imagination at all

Becca’s ballad

yeah i’m still at the Gold Digger bar

past 4 am i party hard

slammin’ vodka laughin’ loud

jeans dirty scratched up arms

cigarettes all crushed and ground to the ground

i wear sweat socks with my heals

my man left me for a smack smoking whore

i’m pissed as hell and i don’t know my name

the welfare office cut off my game

during the day i beg for change

and once a month i take three trains

only to have my kids’ foster mom

cancel again

my daddy whupped me and put me on the streets

my momma left him but didn’t take me in

and the clean women from the west side

got a cold fire in their heart

at least my babies are fed

and i’m not crawlin’ on my knees

i guess i lost the social worker bet

the cops they picked me up on Tuesday

they said i was running in the street naked

i ran out of my calming pills

and my doctor said no more refills

it’s ok i understand my face’s a little dirty

my skin is really tan

the boils on my face

kinda’ turn you off

but it’s fine by me

my God above keeps watch

your stinging words against me

are flowers in my crown

i know my kids will grow up strong

and i did the best i could

the court judge calls me unresponsive

a cruel and evil ma’

he don’t know what happened

in Kentucky when i was a baby child

but it’s ok at least I have some common sense

i’d rather let my babies live

than drag them down with me

i never done nothin’ right in life

but i give thanks for my strength

and take pride in the pain