The Wabi-Sabi Writer

You ought to know

better

Know

 how

not to tear 

a soul

asunder

laying

waste

to a few moon's

worth

of blood

blood

side swiped

across

 slick

linoleum

lies

I saw you

with her

an older

shorter

stouter

version

of Me?

Ushering her

forward

down the aisle

her will

broken

by the hopeful promises 

you loved to whisper

when we women

wander

to far out

on our

own

You even kept me

a chained and neglected

pet

for your amusement

while you baited another

until

in your foolhardy 

frippery

fingers

flipped

a cd

into the car stereo

insisting I would like it

only to quickly 

rip it out

red faced

a bead of sweat running 

down from the thinning

edge

perhaps it was the your conscience

casting its shadow

that caught

my minds eye

I still remember 

the depth of my darkness

slowly sliding

the cd

in

and the words

reaching down into the depths of me

pulling forth 

vehement vitriol 

rage so red

the sun blushed

it was then the shackles

fell off

shattering into dust

at my feet

I stood 

firmly on 

my

own

and I knew

#100daysforLionel   

Every morning I stare 

out my kitchen windows

smeared with city smut

seeking a clear view

I watch early risers

in lounge wear and puffy jackets

walk beloveds

dogs

children

up the street to the park 

where cherry blossoms mingle with the pine

and eucalyptus arches

cast early shadows 

Since the world

shut down

the cafes

stay closed

until close to the midday hour

in hopes of retirees

ladies who lunch

fill their parklet patio

while cars circle

seeking spaces

where now there are none.

Once a month or so

I see an ambulance

race up the hill

sirens screaming

lights flashing a street strobe

sometimes

I see a stretcher

and

no sirens

In the silence

 I hear

volumes

And ask

if not now, when?

 NaPoWriMo  Day 16

#100daysforLionel  

We do not 

practice 

self compassion

to feel 

better

We practice

because

we 

feel

bad

Acceptance

is the key

to non-suffering

so at last

I scribe

half assed notions

and claim

poetic

victory 

in a virtual void

an expression ether

in hopes

I find

my

way

home

#100daysforLionel  

Waking 

naturally

slowly

from a restful sleep

in my cocooning comfortable bed

Sunlight filtering 

through large window

overlooking the azure sea

or perhaps

a garden courtyard 

with the early birdsong 

on a gentle breeze

sliding into a sundress

after a soothing shower

maybe walking

to the cafe 

to meet 

my love

my kitties still sleeping in the nest of sheets on my bed

#100daysforLionel  

Is it auspicious 

to lay claim

to a day

with a reputation

when it clearly

was in the past

in fact

that could be asked 

of many

acts

embellished 

with glinting hope

secrets

sequestered

in sackcloth

ambivalence

and

rumors

scratched

on the sheetmetal

bathroom doors

when push comes 

to shove

the door 

never 

fully closes

there is no real privacy

no real sacred space

anymore

so where is my gris-gris

when

anyone 

entitled with rabbit foot

 overabundance of self importance

can lay claim to it all

#100daysforLionel  

One of many names

many faces

a seven foot 

goddess 

of night

and 

nightmares

whose

 sideways stare

sends little boys scurrying

for cover

She drank 

her midnight

coffee

with a spirit 

named George

and 

summoned books off the shelf

to smack her 

smartmouthing

soul-less sister

upside the head

as a wee one

she was the one

the only one

 who could bend the will

of even the most wicked

one of all

the one who 

served you the crisp cold

water

from the toilet

and told you 

to swallow it

(and you did)

As a baby, she ran for president

and when contested

she represented herself at the Supreme Court

and won

A veritable blue crystal 

queen of sheeba

sheebebeebee

but as far as I know

she

will always be

Bleep

#100daysforLionel  

All the world is a stage and men and women merely players; waiting for a curtain call.

NaPoWriMo  Day 11

#100daysforLionel 

Oh My

the cat

and

the rooster

have made their way

claw and talon

once again

across everyone's 

dirty little minds

and onto the headlines

with their

crowing

caterwauling

air raid siren

shenanigans

with their

weaponized

 fluff

and scratch

oh the shock and awe

but don't be fooled 

This is no ordinary alliance

This pussy is in charge

and all the little cocks 

need to fall in line

#100daysforLionel 

Selected from a stack

of colorful promises

your smooth skin

vantablack

oblivion

your stiff spine

unyielding

How wide open

did you spread

before me

eager

ever

welcoming

my attentions

even when I was impotent 

flaccid and floundering

you held me

my thoughts and feelings

safe

in your embrace

I filled you 

full

you

fullfil me

and the end

we are complete

#100daysforLionel  

How many chance encounters

can fit in this flimsy file folder

locked in

 the should have would have could have

cabinet of curiosities

I call life?

Are

we

Toys of time

no fate

but 

what

we 

make

albeit oft 

misquoted

and

misunderstood

this

misanthropy

is not

without cause

Still I struggle

to select

one

there can be only one

one

to swath

a sash 

of loud chartreuse 

signifying

Attention!

Caution!

This one!

should NOT 

have

happened

as if it would make even the slightest 

difference

should it happen all over again

this is your call 

to battle

to action

to prayer

become

the one

who can

who will

who does

transmute 

the suffering

the water of life

into words

NaPoWriMo Day 8

#100daysforLionel  

Today, yesterday, oh so many years ago

I sat by the gurgling stream

with a cat

and a cow

nestled neatly 

in Narnia

Jadis lurked behind the birch

jealous of our teaberry feast

in the forever summer afternoon

this wonderland forrest

if you know you know

and our mother

never did

oh how I wish you were here

#100daysforLionel 

Laying hands

speaking in tongues

we invoke 

powers of protection

protection that slays

in the spirit

the slain

fall

caught

in trust

or in my case

in the lie

we tell

were told

in the crimson curtained

back bedroom

Slain

I would stare

from the floor

at the Sycamore

standing

sentinel

an ace of spades

branches carrying 

winds whispers

'keep me safe'

We knock

wood

We touch

wood

and the wood

promises

safe

passage

beyond

whatever threat

however cloaked 

guised in pastel

kerchiefs

and

revelations

In desperate 

times

when 

wood

no

where 

is to be found

a frap

on the head

suffices all the same

not because

recalcitrant or pragmatic

reputation

no

that is not the reason

why

the 

reason

why

is the watcher

is the wood

the trees

the guardian

#100daysforLionel 

So

long 

slow

slithering

stolen from me

my virginity

still 

sticky

 slick

tempting

your tongue

you take

you taste

I burn

you

numb

I falter

fumbling

for

you

your power 

opens all my doors

just by being near

my heart races

and all things stop

when you are gone

in the unforgiving 

morning sun

forgotten

in another woman's 

carry-on life

thousands of miles away

Save for Grace

whose will

palmed and pocked

 your intentions

with her gloss

and

boarding pass

crossing the desert

of strangers

for an afternoon 

#100daysforLionel 

Lost in the deep

forrest

I find

myself

missing

you

when the wine

sinks in

fills all my hollows full

swishing

around

the sighing 

distance

between

when we were one

and then

not

all

at

once

the longing leaves

as memory

truffles

nuzzled and unearthed

unrelenting

unwelcome

urge up

on this hallowed ground

this space

rife 

with an ancient ache

like damp moss

squish slick

fully

saturated

I watch

on the surface

As

regrets

bead

and 

hope

rolls

away