mother's fruit

from heaven
   i sat stationary
in my velvet

billowy haven
   my spared sanctuary
of winds songs and a violin

and in this room
   challenged by the red
magic marker of fear

i feel at home
   and i stare
at the mother as if enchanted by a fire

i notice a mockingbird making brutal
   attacks on the mere essence
of man microwaves and cash

the final
   shout threatens its presence
with a blast

from a shooting piece of mahogany
   and steel but incomplete
it lacks a whisper

and from heaven i view the destiny
   of these young they cheat
they kill they remain all but wishful

because it states in mothers' resume
   it was air and earth and fire and water
but we choked and buried and burned and drowned

they won't resume
   to welter
in their weeping

they were born a hunter
   it's the kill - the chase
makes them high wounded and drunk

i pause like a computer
   forgetting in it's haste
to think

a
   mazing the pain
they indulge like a cancer

and it will spread through the
   walls and veins of the lame
portholes they call a mansion

noise

a big blue dictionary laying on the shelf
between two yellow candles in wooden holders
is open to the page with the word
     noise

i used it to describe the house
i used it to describe the room
i used it to describe the shelving
it was the books underneath screaming at me

open us, they yelled, open us and see
then throw us back
but don't forget it, child

the pages were laughing at me
calling me nothing
they echoed words from long ago
noises from other people filled me

215 wawona

the outside is painted a new color
   a whole wall was knocked out for more room
   a new mutt has claimed it as his territory
a den was added where the porch used to be out back

mr bubble no longer resides on the corner of the tub
   popeye's plastic boat has long since retired
   no more child's size 10 sweatshirts in the hall cupboard
the pictures contain yellowed faces of once loved beauty

they walk with a careful toe and
   hold themselves steady with a hand on the wall

have things changed?
   so much so they're exactly the same
   not a trace of time in the house with the
smell of bacon in the mornings

HAIKungfU

in an attempt to find some lyrics i had written and long since lost, i came across some of my college literature work. one of which was a short page of haiku. they are not related to one another so don't look for a connection that isn't there. i'm not that talented.

crisp introduction
and without further ado
nibble my haiku

---

dusty saddlebags
wrinkled men worship relics
tick tock time grew short

girl cried but took him
sampling life in trial-size bites
trasting existence

scuffed sunday school shoes
mossy neck tie gasp too tight
don't sit on the couch

dingy tub water
steam from mealtime chokes your nose
horses parked in back

decomposition
from birth the body ages
life and death and bugs


need i mention again i was in college?

the last time

this is a song i wrote some time back and i've hesitated to put it out there but.. well.. either i've matured to the point of saying "i am okay with it" or i've digressed to "i don't care what you think of it". haha. just kidding. maybe.

truth is, in my plight to become transparent i am putting it all out there. bear in mind i was not in the greatest place when i wrote this. i was hurting. i was confused. i was your typical messed up person who knew she was ready to walk away from the life she was leading and get it right with God, but hadn't quite taken that step yet. it was hard to loosen myself from the world's grip. turned out i didn't have to. i just had to call out to God and He pulled me out of it Himself. isn't He fabulous?

i wish i knew guitar well enough to write the music to it. the tune's in my head, i just don't know how to get it out. [stop delaying trace.. lyrics. now. do it...]


the last time

opposed to open myself up to closeness again
i hate to be the one to make you think
every word you say makes perfect nonsense to me
i'm laughing over the fool i am and

this is the last time i'll let you get away with me
this is the last time i'll cry myself awake
this is the last time i'm begging you to stay with me
this is the last time
cause tomorrow i'm over you

all the humble reasons why we won't do this again
living on the cusp of set in stone
pastel images turn graven in the mirror
alive never told me that and

this is the last time i'll let you get away with me
this is the last time i'll cry myself awake
this is the last time i'm begging you to stay with me
this is the last time
cause tomorrow i'm over you

cast your punishment out loud
don't tell me what to do
time is draining
i'm insane
and finally over you

this is the last time i'll let you get away with me
this is the last time i'll cry myself awake
this is the last time i'm begging you to stay with me
this is the last time i'll let you get away with me
this is the last time i'll cry myself awake
this is the last time i'm begging you to stay with me
this is the last time
cause tomorrow i'm over you
tomorrow i'm over you
tomorrow i'm over you

[hit send, now. do it. it's okay. they won't criticize. i hope]

esther's song

          i am an orphan. i am a jew
          a girl of no consequence
          my life ongoing, but yet to begin

          silence
my heritage
my opinion
my role
          silence

          expectancy rises
          obedience calls from every side
          in whom do i trust?

          drowning
in sisters
perfume
in colors and song
          drowning
in effort
in purpose
in where i belong
          drowning
the process
the painting
the decadence
the throne

          it takes me over
          beauty becomes me
          look at me and i will gain your favor

myrrh
spicy
earthy

          it flows over me
          i am cradled in it
          it is my companion

rich
fragrant
poured over
anointed
a priestly consecration

          and the king summons
          what is a wife of only one man
          to a man with many wives?

a treasure
a jewel
a bride to be

          i’m adorned and chosen
          but they didn’t choose me
          only the girl they think they see

palace
family
throne
besieged
my husband
my people

          for such a time as this
          a position to barter
          beauty by design?
          i’m set in a song that isn’t mine

but i sing it
          i open my mouth and my heart and i sing it
i am a stroke of the brush
          it paints of truth and hope and love
it’s integrity
          and what is right and what is meant to be
          it is a story of a good and perfect will

          a song of the first
i will sing it
          my name is esther
          and i am second