Mirrorrim
Mirror mirror on the wall, hanging there so silently, can you see me here at all, or do you stand in awe of me?
See my skin as white as snow, see my smile as sharp as thorn, behind my lips so rosy red, a beauty grown, but never born.
My people love me, as they might, they laud my beauty and my grace, adore my hair as black as night, and see in me my mother’s face.
Mothers ash is buried deep, beneath the sacred Rowan tree, but should I cry beneath its shade, I hear her voice still speak to me.
Blood red tears soak through the ground, nourishing the thirsty earth, and whispering the leaves take voice, echoes of her cruel mirth.
Stepmother, fear me as you should, for though you may have fathers ring, tis I who owns his beating heart…in me, the conscience of the king.
Huntsman with your sharpened knife, you track me for the queen so good, a single kiss and you are mine, amazed amidst the darkened wood.
The beating heart, unlike my own, ensconced within a box of gold, and carried to stepmother dear, a tragic tale will soon be told.
By animals in forest deep, my body torn too much to save, the heart the only evidence, to lay beside my mother’s grave.
From kitchen knave to scullery maid, soon all in mourning deep will be, whilst I move through them whisper soft, feeding on the tragedy.
And then, replete, I’ll slip away, down to the caverns dark and deep, far from the biting of the sun, where spirits howl and duergar creep.
There among the little men, I’ll sleep until I thirst again, then waken, smiling in my bliss, to share again my blood red kiss.
Blue Streak
Alice in blue jeans, my rabbit-hole child,
blue hair and blonde eyes and an icicle smile,
how in the world did you steal my heart, while constantly staying that one step apart?
Alice in blue jeans, my looking glass girl,
here in a flash and gone in a whirl.
Always arriving, but never to stay,
time after time you must be on your way,
how do I catch you and hold you so tight that your icicle smile melts into delight?
Heartsong
Where do I live, what is my pride,
What is this tickle that burrows inside?
The howling at night when the loneliness calls,
the whisper that screams down behind the white walls?
How do I find it, the place I belong,
do I follow my heart,
do I follow a song?
Do I search for a scrap of rhyme scrawled by a cloud,
or something my heart begins screaming out loud?
I’m lost in the maelstrom of “present” and “now”,
in time rushing past, can I stop it somehow?
Can I hold the years still, though the waters are strong, and finally return to the place I belong?
Lost in the whirlwind,
staring back through the years,
do I answer my heart song or follow my fears?
Mother of Forests
Spread my mind and guard my soul,
the me that is and always will be,
help my roots grow deep and wide
and may you always shelter me.
May you dance with every breeze,
delight the eye with every sway,
train my mind to hear and teach
the wisdom you impart each day.
Take my voice to be your song,
through street and inner-city school,
let your shelter shade their minds
and temper heat with dappled cool.
Take my words to sing your praise,
and fill the ear with endless green,
until their hearts can grow again,
until their life and yours run clean.
Through the Looking Glass…Again.
The mirror me has other eyes,
I meet them, not from vanity,
Dark they are, and umber hued,
The color of insanity.
Pinned like a butterfly I stand,
Meeting that endless gaze,
Till terrified I wrench away,
And dash into the maze.
The path before me twists and turns,
All distance an illusion,
At every bend another choice,
Each step ends in confusion.
The Sound of Madness watches me,
Her mocking gaze surrounds me,
Laughing as I stumble past,
And walls of glass confound me.
Two Sisters
sister, sister, tell me true,
what I ever did to you,
stretch your hand to save me here,
and you may have my sweetheart dear.
I will have your sweetheart, true,
but never will I rescue you,
my hand outstretched will never be,
for sake of what you’ve done to me.
sister, sister, tell me why,
I see my murder in your eye,
what e’er I’ve done I’ll make amends,
and you and I shall live as friends.
Never shall I stretch my hand,
to help you safe up to dry land,
though it may be hard to see,
I’ll think of what you’ve done to me.
sister, sister, tell me here,
is it of my sweetheart dear,
I will forsake him, for your sake,
and you his hand may surely take.
it is about your sweetheart, aye,
whom you love half as much as I,
and though on me he has yet frowned,
he’ll turn to me once you are drowned.
sister, sister, save me, please,
and I will swear on bended knees,
that you a bride will shortly be,
and I no more shall envy thee.
I will not save thee, sister mine,
though your prayers are sweet and fine,
this stream will bear you out to sea,
and you no more will bother me.
sister, sister, hear me now,
my curse on you I hereby vow,
you may well have my sweetheart true,
but this black deed you soon will rue.
sister, when you take my man,
try to hold him if you can,
his faithless heart will ne’er be true,
and this last thing I do to you.
Sky, falling
I remember the scratch of the wall at my back and my cheek when I woke up. The cool soft of its solid made me smile.
Sky bits decorated my warm paper cloak, melding faces and words, facts and lies, all into one soft shell that hugged me tight.
The sky fell and fell and fell, a tympani of pain in jungle green and neon blue. I looked for her, and the grin crawled onto my face with spider toes.
She crouched over the pond that feet had made on the step, squeezing tiny fish from the colors in her hair.
Each little brightness grew as it fell toward the pond, and landed with a splish of color and sound, before sprouting teeny fragile wings and flying away into the falling sky.
She wasn’t smiling. She never smiled. But her two-tone blue and green eyes twinkled like jewels as she followed each of her creations up and up and up.
She glanced at me, and nodded, as her dirty fingers worked another once-bright neon rainbow plait of hair, releasing another spark of color to its journey.
“They’re only going back…” She said. “Soon you will too.” She looked away, but a crooked smile twitched her lips, for just a moment.
Her voice knife rasped through my brain, and I shivered, and coughed. “Oh.” I said, and watched until the last scrap of color faded into sky.
How Many Miles to Bedlam
how many miles to bethlehem
three-score years and ten,
you can get there by candle-light
but you’ll never come home again.
the walls are mirror covered,
in the room inside my head,
sprinkled with manic laughter
and eyes of glowing red.
the eyes are the window of the soul,
or so the proverbs say,
mine open on a burning hell
of discord and decay.
chaos is my normal,
normal is a curse,
sanity is stifling,
and boredom ten times worse.
my laughter smells of lightning,
and color-coded shame,
my face a demons beauty,
my heart an angels game.
look deep into my eyes and see
the mirror crazed within,
razor sharp glass shards that swirl
and swell beneath my skin.
Little Healer
The Little Healer
This one is for…well, it’s pretty obvious, actually. He’s a pretty remarkable little guy who’s touched a lot of hearts when he shows up with his mommy, here at Palm Gardens rehab. So enjoy, or not, but no matter what…this one’s for
SHADOW
little Shadow, dog of light,
with silken coat in pearly white,
never cautious, always bold…
as long as there are arms to hold.
You share your boundless love,
with those who need it most,
cuddled in the lap or arms
of any willing host.
Shadow is your name, but still
you walk in beams of light,
sent from gentle loving eyes,
through swiftly fading sight.
you warm the coldest room,
make soft the hardest heart,
with antics meant to draw the eye,
you play your biggest part.
laughter is a healing gift,
within these painted halls,
and watching you, the laughter peals,
and shakes these solemn walls.
little Shadow, precious boy,
give your love and take our joy,
a present from the grateful few
whose aging hearts were warmed by you.
The Child
Ok, so I lied…this one snuck in there and insisted to come play, so here it is. I hope you like it, and Merry Christmas/Holiday to everyone!
a child is born, to parents poor,
his cradle is a manger, small,
in stable dark beside the inn,
in wind that whistles through the wall.
yet at his birth, the heavens sing,
the glories of a stars bright light
eclipse the lanterns of the inn
and make the sky a beacon, bright
shepherds follow, drawn by light,
and angel voices singing sweet,
gifts they bring, a blanket warm,
the rhythm of a drums soft beat.
and from the East, the wiseman come,
men of learning, traveling far,
gifts they bring, to lay before
the glory born beneath the star.
and in the heavens, angels chorus
till all the world can hear the ring,
peace on earth and mercy mild,
and glory to the newborn king.
B&B
the maze amazing blocks my sight,
with bright lit halls and rooms of night,
my heart beats fast and hard with fright,
I stumble, and my head feels light.
the path winds forward, north, then east,
with frozen fear I hear the beast,
he shambles, slow, like one deceased,
but still he comes, to make his feast.
I looked into his private wing,
not knowing what my choice would bring,
its beauty made my heart fair sing,
just like a castle for a king.
he sat, his back toward the door,
admiring the fires bright roar,
and spoke, as if his throat were sore…
“I’m certain that I locked that door.”
he turned around, I thought I’d scream,
so much the monster did he seem,
his eyes with yellow light did gleam,
I pinched myself, in case of dream.
I saw a passageway, and ran,
without a thought, without a plan,
away from beast that thought as man,
as fast as any rabbit can!
and now I’m lost, in caverns deep,
for days I’ve had no food or sleep,
while after me the beast does creep,
so on and on, my pace I keep.
still I wonder if I dream,
if things are not the way they seem,
I swallow scream on breathless scream,
and watch behind for the eyes that gleam.
For Eugene and Inga
eugБольшое спасибо!
One of you was always there,
To keep the nights from stress and care,
All the small things you did with a smile,
And the big ones that piled up, mile on mile,
No arguments, no crankiness,
attention to detail all the time,
I’ll miss you in my long lonely nights,
And so I wrote this little rhyme.
До свидания!
( Eugene and Inga are an awesome married couple who work as Certified Nurses Assistants at the rehab I’ve been in for 6 and a half weeks, and I wanted to say goodbye properly since I leave tomorrow. And for those of us who can’t read cyrillic, let alone Russian: on top, Thank You Very Much. on the bottom, Goodbye. )
Dearing, my Dearing
(This was written for a lady I met who had the unfortunate luck of being named Dearing. While I love the name, this poem almost immediately sprung into my creatively sick mind, and I hope you like it. Half Poe and half Edward Gorey…enjoy!)
Oh Dearling, my Dearling, let’s run away,
Sampling the ephemeral bright Springtime day
Drinking Spring wine,
“Forever!” we’ll say.
Oh Dearling, my Dearling, let’s run away.
Dearing, my darling, let’s run away,
You with your bright skin,
Me with my grey,
And sample the goodness of each summers day,
Oh, Dearing, my darling, let’s run away.
Oh, my darling Dearing, let’s run away,
Through the bright crispness of each Autumn day,
Smell of campfire,
And pumpkin decay,
Oh, my darling Dearing, let’s run away.
Oh, Darling, my Darling, I’ll lock you away,
Deep in the ice, and with carved letters, say…
This is my Dearing,
She once ran away.
Oh, Darling, my Darling, forever you’ll stay,
Deep in the ice of a cold Winters day.
Sea Witch
the moonlit sea is in her eyes,
the tides are in her heart,
and when the stormy weather hits,
she’ll tear your soul apart,
but when the seas are calm and bright,
the moon is full and fair,
her voice is dulcet, sweet and soft,
and the stars shine in her hair,
ahh then my lady comes to me,
across the shining sea,
and sleeps contented in my arms,
snuggled close to me,
and all is right within the world,
as long as we’re together,
but all too soon she’s gone again,
as changeable as weather,
and patiently I wait for her,
for she’ll sure return to me,
as soon as the sea is calm and bright,
and the moon shines on the sea.
Mia’s silly rhyming song, by Mia
the flat cat has a hat
he throws it at the silly bat
because the bat it squashed him flat
and sat on top of his new hat
the car goes far under the star
the star looks down to see the car
the car stops at the soda bar
and then it goes on far and far
the silly fox sits in a box
until the man comes with the locks
and locks the box up with the fox
because the fox stole all his socks
the sad bear lives at the fair
and dances in the sticky air
and wishes he was out of there
and back at home in his warm lair
the little bug lives in the rug
in a hole he dug and dug
and gives his family a great big hug
because they live there nice and snug
Strangers
If you’d never known me, would you miss me?
Would you sometimes listen for a voice that isn’t there,
Would certain smells remind you of a place you’d never been,
Or would you catch a glimpse of me, passing on the stair?
I remember you, although we’ve never met.
I know your eyes, your smile, your breath upon my ear,
I see you in the empty bed, and in the other chair,
I hear your laugh out on the street, and always will, I fear.
Your face sneaks up on me, sometimes,
in keepsakes and old photos, streaked with tears,
proof ephemeral and fine, these memories of you;
the stranger that I never knew, but loved so many years.
Strange Fruit
(I have -no- idea where this one came from…I love the song, but I wasn’t thinking of it, wasn’t thinking of anything that would lead to this…just one that was sitting back there wherever poems come from, and decided to come out, I guess. *shrugs*)
What strange fruit is this, back in the woods,
hung in the trees by ghosts in white hoods,
fruit raised in hate, in sorrow and fear,
but draw close, my children, and a story you’ll hear.
A story of love, of pride and of strength,
a historical tale of unmeasurable length,
of warriors and tricksters and those who would wait,
to tell the tale, in the midst of the hate.
We tell the tale, to big and to small,
to rekindle the fire in the hearts of them all,
to outshine the fires of hate, and of death,
a fire that burns from the first to last breath.
So hark to the tale, and hold it inside,
the answers you seek, the tale will provide,
dream of the day when all will be free,
and no more will strange fruit hang from the tree.
No-when and Never-been
They say “stuck in the 80’s”, “lost in the 60’s”,
“Generation Me-my-x-y-z”…
As if they’re all places, things you can go to,
but then, where does that leave me?
My “style” is non-existent, my “mojo” even more so,
and people look at me as if my brain was in my torso.
I’ve never bred, I never will, and to some, that makes me less,
what it means to me, they’ll never know or ever guess.
My age is vague, like shifting smoke, it changes with every breath,
and so it will, within my will, until destiny or death.
My heart is words, my mind is song, the rhyme that rules the world,
and yet my voice is never heard, and cannot be unfurled.
I live in my spaces, my in-between faces,
a liminal creature, time-free,
between no-when and never-been, that’s where
you’ll find what’s me.
Lady
my lady, should i tell you now, or would it strike your mind with fear,
how i’ve known you from afar, and yearned, and now the path is clear,
your mind shines warm within my heart, with clever quip and gentle jest,
i warm myself at your bright fire, and feel myself completely blessed.
my lady of the lovely eyes, at least that’s how they seem to me,
although i cannot see them shine, as you are yet a dream to me,
i feel your strength, and loving heart, and in your words i hear your soul,
and in your hidden arms i rest, at rest at last, completely whole.
Desert Knight
city lives and canyon eyes, the blue of distant skies,
crystal air and pinon scent compete with smog and lies.
through city traffic, city noise, he walks as if alone,
his mind awash with starfields, and the scent of cooling stone.
the smell of burning refuse fills his clothing and his hair,
the flames that warm the icy night reflected in his stare.
the city teems with tortured souls, a million silent howls,
a beast that grinds the spirit fine within its slavering jowls.
he walks alone within its jaws, and dreams a different night,
cold and clear, the stars so near they fill his mind with light.
and as he walks, the starlight gleams, a shimmering silver glow,
it spreads its wings behind him through the dirty sleeting snow.
and everywhere it fills the air, the scent of pine and sage,
it stirs the stagnant city smog, and cools the sullen rage.
and in his wake, the city’s ache, the all-pervasive pain,
is smothered to a fitful glow, an ember in the rain.
Song
what good are words when I can’t even tell that the mind in my head has gone numb, I can’t taste the world, I can’t feel the pain, I sing while I sleep, and they come.
I can’t feel at all, or maybe too much, an overload bearing me down, I try to distract, to make a new track, but I sing a sad song, just a clown.
the words come at night, at sleep and at play, they dance and they sing through my mind, I sleep all the day so I don’t have to hear all the people who try to be kind.
they can’t understand, they can’t feel the pull, the rhythm insistent and clear, they say write it out, just put it down, and they don’t know that’s just what I fear.
what good are words when I can’t even tell that the mind in my head has gone numb, I can’t taste the world, I can’t feel the pain, I sing while I sleep, and they come.
Fear
I need to make it clear,
the deadly way I feel,
that all the while I’m here,
this world is not quite real.
The floor beneath my feet,
the walls that box me in,
the voices on the street,
the screams beneath my skin.
My eyes within the glass,
my heart within my chest,
my too abundant mass,
a long unwelcomed guest.
I strain to breach the wall,
to shatter all the lies,
but still the wall stands tall,
and the world wears its disguise.
My fight will never end,
my dawn will never come,
my signal never send,
my voice is locked, and dumb.
The words come from my mind,
and from the deepest well,
and every line is signed,
with love, to you, from hell.
kyotzeta 
In The House of My Enemy (trigger warning, child abuse)
In a basement, in a closet, in the corner of my mind,
I am hiding, I am running, I am being hard to find.
Hide me darkness, hide me silence, hide me safe from any sight,
keep me hidden, safe and quiet, far from pain or rage or fright.
Search is coming, pain and anger, fear is icicles inside,
eyes are staring, heart is beating, breath is curling up to hide.
Footsteps nearing, rage is searing, in threat and anger raving,
darkness broken, hard words spoken, fear and pain past saving.
Hands are groping, no more hoping, plleas and promises ignored,
pain and screaming, fade to dreaming, till the darkness falls once more.
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May 7, 2016 | Categories: Green mouse ice cream!, ice pops!, Smell of blue!, social commentary | Tags: abuse, children, poem, poetry | 5 Comments