To seniors of a retirement home.

Your eyes, they shine so bright.
There’s no longer confusion,
only the yearning for life.

The rest of your body’s
ceased to thrive,
prepping the soul for the flight.

No longer have a fear of death,
only the dream to see
the loved ones one more time.

Closer to the ground now
with an open blue sky.
Everything you imagined
now it’s the time.

Miseries.

All my folks know is miseries
from the cradle to the grave.
All they know is miseries,
that’s where they seem to live.

They hand me down their miseries,
they let it roll and it rolls.
From wide-eyed to pinched heart
no way to count its toll.

All I know is miseries,
and the supposed black hearts and deeds.
All I expect is miseries,
it’s the one thing I can see.

I don’t want no miseries,
one thing ends another can begin.
The fear and longing for miseries
are the reason we are not free.

I don’t see no miseries
maybe you’ve made me blind.
I don’t accept no miseries
not from you or any one.

I don’t create my own miseries,
just having fun giving it a run.
Don’t talk to me about miseries.
It is just one of them.

To Inspiration.

Hello, Inspiration:

This is your unfaithful servant.
It’s not my fault you’d chosen a coward
and won’t stop blasting her with visions.
I’m not responsible for your noises
nor the beauty that I’ve seen
for I’m not the one that’s destroying it
though I’ll admit it’s kinda pretty.

Without you where I’d be?
Pretty sure I’d be more at ease
enjoying the sun & the days without the heartache
that I’d be missing out of anything.
Sometimes I wish I don’t see
the future that can be
or the present that bothers me
and just be OK to be aloof
and write coward songs
and coward poems
thinking out loud but apologize
with every opportunity.
But what is this?
Are you the voice that’s killing me?
Toiling over & over all alone?
To what end so far from home?

This is a coward song
telling you I’m late again.
Can’t help with the hesitations
nor the shaky voice & the shaky hands.
It’s never getting easier
I know that now.
For every drop of water, a world.
And every human being,
her own heaven & hell.

Heart-gate.

I put my heart on hold
long ago.
I don’t remember the signs,
it’s a foreign land.
People don’t understand
when they see me emotionless,
how hard it is to pretend
to be one of them.

When I don’t know
where I am,
I hum a little song
to myself,
never deal with anything
too personal,
now that I can get away
from my folks.

The clock I’d stopped
does grind
so loudly
in my mind.
Need to let the cold
seeping in,
for the chance
to make some friends.

Still so afraid
of losing the ones I love,
or that I can’t
help them enough.
Can I take it now?
My disappointment
with myself?

I put my heart on hold.
My place is vacant
and my eyes are cold.
I feel safely mechanical.
But I can’t run free,
without my heart whole.

Was it something I had done?
Or part of me I have to accept?
Who do I go for advice?
When nobody knows who I am?

I have to unpause.
Have to face the spot.
Name the things I can’t change
and bring them back home.

Girls’ night out.

Girls’ night out, yo,
got myself a little bell.
Girls’ night out,
clink, clash, pow!

Girls’ night out, yo,
if you don’t see me about.
It’s girls’ night out,
girls’ night out.

Girls gotta have fun now,
it runs in the family.
Let you be reminded,
why we ain’t smiling.

It’s fun time, girls’ high time,
Grab a friend time, forget the past time.

It’s all us girls now,
never been anyone else.
Let me give you the hashtag,
it’s #girlsdontgiveashit.

Don’t ask if you don’t wanna listen,
we ain’t got time & you ain’t our guest.
Better hurry up & get outta dodge,
otherwise your ass’ going in the trunk.

It’s girls’ night out, it’s not garbage night.
It’s been awhile so wear that skunk red.
Got no worries with guns in the purse.
Think I’m drunk? You better ask first.

It’s girls’, girls’, girls’ night out.
It’s cooing, mewing, howling in the crowd.
There’s no contest who can be really loud.
Ask the sherif, she’s been here awhile.

It’s girls’ night out, women’s night out, grandmas’ last night out.
No cookies, cakes, or roasted birds for you just now.
Hurry up & get out of our house.
It’s our night, all night, ain’t a thing but girls’ night.

Once upon a time.

I try to escape a feeling,
& I know you know it too,
that the world’s at your fingertips
& you can fuck it if you so choose.

But I’m afraid of something,
something up above,
that tells me, “no, no, no,
you are not enough.”

You are not enough.
You are not enough.

So I got outta the way,
to sulk, to reflect,
to find a way to have faith.
I thought it was OK.

Thought it was OK.
Thought it was OK.

But, but, why can’t I breath?
Choices I didn’t make.
Living a life that
I’m watching from the outside.

The world’s at my fingertips.
I’ll fuck it if I so choose.
You can stare or look away.
You can tell me you’re not afraid.

But don’t be late, time won’t wait.
Enough is enough, to read & meditate.
You’ll never know it all.
Greed is your downfall.

You’ll never be loved
like you are now.

Today.

What’s your goal today?
And don’t you run away.
The sun rises, it will set.
Can you rest when you go to bed?

Today is that special day,
it will never come again.
Find out where your dream lies,
go where it goes & don’t look back.

There’s something called evolution,
you have to adapt to survive.
Can you tell me the difference
between your life & the one to have?

Singing loudly and not hating what you love.

First thing in the morning, I’m howling. To the tunes of Cardi B and Sumi Jo, I’m taking my throat for a morning drive. If nothing else it’s going to be the harshest sound that I’m going to hear all day. Everyone who heard the noise was disturbed (they let me know), and I’ve learned not to care, because I discovered that I’ve since started to yield a bigger voice and it’s already having an effect on my life. All of a sudden people stopped asking me to repeat what I’ve just said, which was nice indeed. I don’t know what prompted my desire to start singing, maybe the desire was always there and I was just too good at ignoring it. I was a pro at ignoring myself as it turned out. There was this persistent voice that was telling me that what I liked did not mean shit, until recently I didn’t even have the courage to question, “Why not?” That was just how things were.

Something told me to sing, and it was getting louder. That must be the new voice in my head and I am slowly getting to trust that new voice. It tells me that what I like is not shit, it tells me that even though I failed so many times, at so many things, those experiences are not meaningless, that I am not meaningless. I fight myself and others harder to let that voice speak and get heard. It was hard, taking responsibility for oneself was so unexpectedly hard. You have to get to know who this person is, you have to be OK with the history this person brings, the mistakes this person has made and is making. It’s about compassion, it’s about dignity, it’s about courage. It takes work to really love oneself.

This is the way things are now. Do I wish to arrive here sooner? No, I don’t. For having that thought discredits the journey. I’m neither old, nor I’m young. I marvel at the younger generations who are adding their own voices to the melody and I know they are the best. I’m watching the older generations who sometimes appear to be as lost as a helpless child and I hope we’re all learning their lessons. The time spent agonizing and being confused is all worth it if we don’t give up. As it is, I’m glad that I’m singing badly and I don’t mind that it might get heard from time to time.

Happy Easter.

easter egg