mural by LAPIZT♡LA
truth be said
urban meadow blues
meadows i see on the packages in the lady business aisle of my regular supermarket
when i was young and high living the downtown life meadows were tucked twixt the words of John Fante
on crowded freeways i imagine meadows green with polka dot flowers instead of beer bottles and trash
i too have stood on meadows ignoring reality when news and accounts have been grim
on the meadows of my mind while i stand in line waiting for my time with the speed ticket money taker i swear i have been a Hopi princess
meadows in the park constructed from repurposed everything that underserves the very point of wild God created freeform and bear in mind your parking meter too
not feeling well
sleep cradles me im on the lawn black rolled towel holds my neck im tired the train screams and my eyes pop open i get the sensation of German mustard on my tongue and think of mother we called her by her name an extra insurance policy of disconnection although i never knew what she really felt then the Pantry floats about memories of standing in line on Figueroa at the mouth of downtown when downtown was a city there are signs lights most unnatural sports sports drinks sell sell sell dont think dont think dont think i saw a man in Victoria’s Secret robes worn out of poverty then im tired no more then im angry again defeated and dissected from my nature patches of this and that round off the frustrations of seeing this world pass by falling into abyss and in all my time i have done nothing
home stretch haiku
cup
tightly
like
a
momma
cat
firmly
cusp
my
soul
you
are
the
key
that ruthless city
if a trail could be found to his beating heart it would be through his ears
the sounds of giant groaning flares flying moons shooting stars music of the cosmos
my voice is not a song it merely croaks and moans steeped in manly brick and mortar
inside the blinding glare of chiming heavenly beings are lively rays displaying all
down to his change cup inside the saxophone case on the shadow washed asphalt somewhere in that ruthless city
magic haiku
it
is
there
tucked
in
the
breath
under
the
heart
of
love’s
magic
embrace
when women pray
it happens any time
in any place
around the universe
and even under ground
where they bury us
or in jars
where our chemical composition
lays just there in a powder
when women pray
they are really talking
across wet streets
between cars
right on the division line
of light and dark
they really get into it
a rhythm only she angels can hear
the he angels
they’re pictures on Valentines
sent to Hank Bukowski
when women pray
they think of everything
dirty diapers pregnancy tests
pubic hair the national crime rates
they think of their breasts
the bruises by their mate
the love of a mother
the words not really carefully thought through
but the universe gets the gist
cars come and go
rush hour in the heart
fear and joy at being alive
when women pray
music dances off their tongues
penetrating embankments
concrete or otherwise
the lilts and little valleys
in their vocal chords
algorithms to the stars
when i pray
i pray for a strength like theirs
dislocated ribs
there are bright yellow red hearted blossoms waving at the cars
trees screaming with a hundred demanding little birds cleansers of the earth after the war
telephone wires obselete and dead
wireless carriers facilitate what’s next
skies gloomy skin tanning albeit
here in my new home away
from the sores of tough living
my body moves more
still the pain gets stronger
wars can still reach me
the curse of gab from shallow tongues
remind me that i’m not enough
and that my fat rolls and brittle hair
are cause for alarm
not that our Mother is burning
i too am fragile to not cry
too salty
to not have the strength to soldier on
i’ve made an executive decision
today i’ll have no viewpoint
instead i will experiment with hummingbird nectar
and hope that they will come and partake
their wings without rest
their bodies steady in the air
thoughts scurry in my head
and the heart
hasn’t found her resting place
still lingers there
between dislocated ribs
for all times sake
why have we forsaken we
when in living off the twilight
inside the erosion of my mind
sometimes i snap sharply from my American
airconditioned nightmare
the balance of me
realizing my internet speed
was a negative impact
on some email or another
the twilight lit up
soon enough when heavy fueled Fedex trucks
delivered my pampered cats’ designer litter
the pipeline took by cyber rooks
named after a Stan Lee caricature
tired from tapping orders and griping
of how the strain in my eyes
wont let me binge watch
zombies and madonnas later tonight
when living in the hologram of prescriptive mindfulness
a new normal cast upon my head
no longer should i be disturbed
and once the tiny caffeine shots
have done their job
all major asshole media cocks
begrudgingly agree
that the Arabs are bombing the Jews again
slapping of wrists from the lips in the oval coffin
my spirit starts to sit upon my couch
the people of my mother
the people of my neighbors
the people who bother no one
in their daily toil to survive
to see their little ones grow
my attention pulled out
looking out the front door
quasi worried about the power grid
the electrical giggles sprouting
from kindergarten kiddos
sadden my heart
why have we forsaken we
two feathers
before this moment
i didnt want to kiss your lips
stroke your cheek or bury my pain in your hair
before the moon put on her gown to hide the scars paparazzied by the sun
i didn’t want to hide in that deep well of your warm strong arms for fear of being sold down that cold toxic emotional river
before you before tomorrow before my death two feathers from your wings fell into my poisoned dream turning them into golden keys opening a paradise
words less spoken 