I am your Voodoo Lady (poem)

 

 

 

joshua-fuller-204247Hand me a Ouija board
throw out some candles and
give me your tarot
the demons are talking tonight
all at once
even with Emile Sande
begging for something to believe in
through my headphones

It’s a map, all laid out
not a single memory
it’s all of the memory, all of it
my room is crowded with them
I am you’re voodoo lady

Pay me in trade, boy
sit in front of me and wait
while I cast bones
while I spin tables
with the taste of cold coffee
on my tongue
I hear stories I don’t want to

forbidden fruit
sweet to the taste but bitter
in the gut
as voices speak through me
each line I write
I’ve paid for in chains
and a pound of flesh

Last night
I prayed my first rosary
Holy Mary mother of God
I’m so tired
I counted the beads
and said the ‘Our Father’
but tonight I’m reminded
what a jealous creature
I am

Tonight, I thought
I was emptied out completely
that nothing would stir
but it does, precious
it stirs in me
as I am now ghost writing
what they want me to say

I’m untalented
all this is a conduit
the praise, the adulation
your five star darling hooker
and I can never tell when
the door is going to swing open
but I have a fear
deep in my soul should
it one day swing open
and the crowd steps through
this time it wont be to deliver the goods

It’ll be to take me with them
There is no Sibley Road for me anymore

Yin and Yang of us (Poem)

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I am not me, alone
Not anymore
There is no self identifier
I, has become we
me has become thee
It’s all combined, now

You are not you, alone
When you walk through that door
the other half of you greets the other half of me
Us, transformed
morphed, molded,
immersed into another being, now

When your gone away
to wherever your labor takes you
I count the minutes and seconds
till the rest of me walks through the door

When I’m here alone
You labor along side of me
your thoughts become my words
I ponder what you’ve taught me
and give it away to the world

Not codependent, symbiotic
my breath, my body,
your heartbeat, your laughter
Yin and Yang
we are – individually- part of the whole, now

The Devil among us (Poem)

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The devil walks among the pious

among the rich and lofty few

toward the halls of justice and of government

into the heart of the holiest place

sunlight streaming on-top of his head

from the stain-glass windows

 

The devil stands behind pulpits

and carries the Bible in his hand

with a white smile he beguiles the many

and throws out those who hear something off

about his words, his gaze, his temperament

this wolf in sheeps clothing says

Love the sinner, hate the sin

 

The devil is in the ear of the parent

spare the rod spoil the child, says the deceiver

children need a firm and powerful hand

he encourages the shattering of a child’s safety

for there is nothing sadder in the world

nothing more pleasing to him, than the hopelessness

of a cynical child

 

The devil walks among us, not quite the roaring lion

we all have come to expect stalking his prey

from high grasses, nay

he’s less a powerful feline and more like a rodent

chewing through the ropes that bind us all together

creating chaos wherever he goes

 

So if the devil can be in these places

then his evil can disguise itself as well

not the rumble of thunder, nor the rolling of drums

but in the form of whispers as gentle as a feathers touch

that fall upon a willing ear of a person

ready to set the world on fire

confirming to him the prejudices of his heart

and convincing him that he alone can make the world right, again.

 

For He is the Opposite of Grace

What Contentment tastes like (poem)

 

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I can hear a dove sing
in the tree outside my window
with sore muscles and tired eyes
I listen to the sound of my husband
shuffling through books he’d brought from home
muttering to himself about the wisdom of they
who’d left part of themselves for the world
to learn from.
My belly is full of lunch that I made
with no thoughts other than to fill a hungry space
happy to listen to the world outside my window
Last night, a storm blew through our town
with thunder the sound of cannon fire
and flashes of white, dangerous, and angry lightning
that illuminated the shadows of the witching hour
The rain sloshed heavy against the windows
and I – knowing he loved it – woke him to listen
and listen he did; grabbing a pillow and a blanket
he turned from my bed and laid down on the couch before two living room windows with the blinds drawn back
and I on the floor beneath him
Happily- he watched until his breath slowed
warm and protected in the midst of the gale
I waited
until at last the reigns were pulled back and the tempest
eased and shifted – I returned to my bed
Now, today, the sun warm once again I sit in the quiet
with the leftover taste of coffee on my tongue
my husband thumbing through tomes muttering to himself
I smile, knowing this is what contentment tastes like.

Aries Born (poem)

 

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(Photo by Greg Rakozy)

 

Morning-born under the sign of the Ram
while my moon taught me to roar
fire chain whips rolling off my tongue
and pleasure from my fingertips

go away, come back
love me the way you want to
I’ll drink your water when my throat aches
and my heart needs to recover

then let me go to soar
far into the night sky and rage
as I chase away the dark
for those who’s signs are endowed with the earth and of the water and of the air

but tether my foot
and outstretch your strong arms
for when I need to cry from having darts
thrown into my soul
wrap me up then and take your demon home

should you do this
should you vow to do this
knowing I belong to the night
knowing it’s the air I need that makes me breathe
knowing it’s the earth that feeds me
knowing it’s the water that gives me the release I need

Should you do this
it’s your body alone that I will allow to possess me
when the morning comes and we come with it
and the sun takes my place in the sky
I’ll lay quietly in your loving arms
and fall asleep to bird song.

Summer ( The Second Sister) Poem

 

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(Photo by: Diana Simumpande)

 

 

Summer sister
Brown skinned beauty
With a dress as green as the emerald isles
Steadily walks in grasses waist high and flowering
Her bosom as full as the clouds

Summer sister, African wise
Woman of the earth and mother to all
Eases the world in mid-afternoon slumbers
And thundershowers late at night

Mother of the longest Solstice
She tells Mary Mary quite contrary
How that garden’s supposed to grow
And prepares her fields for her red haired sister
When June fields begin to grow

But it’s with her the children laugh and play through
As the swim in rivers warmed by her touch
It’s her they watch coming over the hill from schoolhouse windows
The time of the year they love so much

Summer sister, Ebony darling
A laugh as deep as the tree roots grow
The most generous of the four sisters seasons
Dancing under the late summers moon glow

Thank you (Poem)

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((Photo by Alyssa Smith)

April is National Poetry Month and in my little corner of the literary world there’s some bad stuff that happened and then some good stuff and then some fantastic things. But tonight, my poem is about the LGBTQI community. Most notably, those who’ve died. So, to the spirits of those people who surround me right now at my desk – this one is for you.

 

I love you in ways I can’t explain
in tongues I don’t know
in lives long since passed and ones
that haven’t been lived yet

I owe to you my life
for the life you laid down for me
when death came by way of AIDs,
suicide, neglect, or brutality
your very being and bravery
thought me into existence

I am not blood of your blood
but I am bonded to your soul
my forefathers and foremothers
we share one thing, one strong thread
and that is the truth – this space – where
we chose to live

There is no way to trace me back
no DNA to tie me to you
but through your courage and love
I stand solid in my marriage and
am the realization of the dream you had
for yourself

So, i honor you today, my family
my brothers and sisters and uncles and Kin
be ye black or white or beige or red
be ye muslim or Jew or native American
simply by saying, ” Thank you.”

Thank you – for what you did.

Mother Mary (Poem)

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(Photo by Alina Sofia)

Mother,

My consciousness wanders in the cool of the evening
When the sound of the air conditioning unit hums it’s perpetual song
After the rains have swept heaven free of sticky summer air

A Marlboro red burns between my fingers as I linger in my chair
The smoke climbing blue grey tendrils upward and out of sight
My lovely slow death, when I think about life
As my wind chime tinkles away in the breeze

My lover is fast asleep mumbling in his dreams
About his worries, and grinds his teeth and apologizes for not being the best of the best of the best
To phantom faces of his industry
A race never ending to simply live in this world

But he is the best
And he is who I think of
My Jesus at five foot eight inches tall
My Atlas, my St. Michael
Beloved, enchanting my immortal soul, and giving rest to my weary mind
And pleasure to my wanton body
He stands guard at the doorway of my heart

I’ve never known love like this
Sweet Mary, sweet mother please hear my truth
I fear the cup of my heart is filled with holes,
While my mind is filled with razors
Understand that his love keeps me hungry
And the wine has yet to be bitter on my tongue

Even though he slumbers, in mumbling shifting sleep
And as minutes tick by, shifting sands, in the cool night air
Let the day’s last cigarette burns slowly down
Let me love him, and keep him, and I’ll love you
With the love of a long lost lonely child
Until the oceans and my words run dry

My husband
Mine

Amen