The Talk
Well, we knew this day would come
Danielle asked me where babies come from
They nearly caught us in the act
We’ll need to face them with the facts
Do you think they’re old enough?
This is the stuff that’s really tough
It’s time, we need to let them know
Get them ready for when their bodies grow
I don’t want to scare them
but they do need to know
Maybe we should buy them a book
So that they could take a first look
I think we should face it
Just tell them the basics
And how to stay well out of trouble
We’ll need to burst their childhood bubble
You talk to Frank and I’ll talk to Danielle
I dread this, but hope I can explain it well
Here’s hoping our words will do, though
It would be awkward if they asked for a show
Maybe I need a refresher
Just so I don’t misinform her
Go straight to the bedroom, do not cross go
And this time around let’s lock up the door
You caught my drift, love, do not despair
Quickly let’s sprint to our love nest upstairs
Collab with Jacqueline (allotherlovers)
Jacqueline: plain text
me: bold text
do you remember the eulogy i wrote for myself
that night that i decided my sadness was too
heavy, too intimidating to earth’s gravity?
(i wrote it onto my skin so i’d be the only one
who knew what i felt when i left.)
i dug myself a grave on the corner of the garden
where the grass has been dry and uncut since
September.
i left you a note on the kitchen window asking you
to grow your favorite flowers on my body. i cried
while writing it because i couldn’t remember which
flowers you liked the most.
now, i’m writing you a poem to thank you for
kissing me that night and joking about how
you were in love with a ghost.
i told you i liked the darkness and midnight
was the only time i felt alone.
(you brought me a broken watch with both
hands pointing to 12 and said i’d never
have to talk again.)
do you remember the eulogy i wrote for myself?
i don’t.
(you gave me two doses of morphine and
all i remember is your hands on my sleeves
and your eyes shining
like the quartz in my broken watch,
stuck on the 12 oclock that saved me).
From the Pen of Allotherlovers:
Eulogy to my deceased blog
you were me
all that you said, wrote me
no other one will be you for me
but your lovers will move on
you will be forgotten by all
but me
you were my soul
in my image and likeness
a creation, like birth
and I killed you
I, murderess, coveting privacy
rest - in pieces of my memory
posted on behalf of Jacqueline (allotherlovers)
Anniversary
Good morning, love, and happy anniversary
Another thirteenth since the day you said yes
You remembered, you sly one
How many has it been since we tied that knot
It’s been seven years, I feel an itch
The same old itch you love to scratch
You better let me scratch and no other
Or there’s a frying pan here for you
You’ve still got your fire, my love
I don’t want any other, just scratch like you do
The fire keeps burning for you, love
Let’s celebrate with wine and dancing
That sounds like a great plan for the night
Until we get the kids out of our hair
I hear them now, giggling and running
Kiss me now before the games begin
Let’s share a sweet little moment
Before they demand to be let in
The life we’ve made is a good one
I hope our little ones find such joy
But for now it’s still our turn
The day for The Talk is yet far away
Well, what have we here? Little munchkins!
And a tray full of breakfast to start off the day
Bless the little ones, or maybe not
They could have cut us some slack on this day
Collab with Jacqueline (allotherlovers)
Jacqueline: plain text
me: bold text
48/365
a beggar woman, a peasant’s wife
and a simple exchange:
for food a grain of barley
to plant, to harvest
to birth a tiny girl
asleep in a walnut shell,
then a series of rejections:
a toad, a beetle, a mole-
suitors not suitable
for a girl in search
of wings that cannot be found
on lily pads or winter snow
but in the company
of flowers and a prince
so small the world forgot
he was there.
To the fucking point.
I see the curve
of his delicious butt
in the subtle curve
of the road
on which we drive.
He hits the gas,
and the
discontinuous stark white
markings on the
black road evolve
into a continuous
straight line.
It reminds me of
the rhythm we
finally find
after the
first few broken
thrusts.
There’s sea on
my left side.
Which I know
Is salty
And the waves
remind me
of how he achieves
pleasure, how he cums
-wave after wave.
There’s whole lotta love
playing on the
stereo
And boy, Robert Plant’s
moans remind me
of his throaty ones
There’s a hand touching
me,
I can’t decide
Whether its his
Or mine.
But it reminds me
of things we did
last night.
Cheesery taken literally. [with complementary red wine]
FOR J. (Can i call you that? Yes Ofcourse I can :p)
There’s nothing better than your tongue
Nothing sweeter than the melodies we’ve sung
Through our tongues beneath and above
Coated with cheese and love
Nothing tastier than the divine taste
When with cheesery your tongue is graced
Nothing sexier when red wine accompanies
This tongue twisting like a disease
Written in conjunction with - #allotherlovers. Thank you so much for your insight and direction.
————————-
Winter hawk beyond our sight,
Soars across the darkest night,
The sky is black and snow blue white,
Beyond the moon there is no light.
And as he looks on hallowed ground,
Tombstones where the dead are found,
Unleashing from his soul a sound,
Spirit cries become unbound.
How the earth crawls underneath him,
How the field mice run away,
But he does not hunger for them,
Perfect eyes seek other prey.
Soon I see him light above me,
It’s my heart he seeks today,
In his talons moving swiftly,
From this land I float away.
Progress
Trading the whip and chains
for Jim Crow and the noose
this bloody American history
branded into slowly healing flesh
The face in the big white house
gives cold comfort to old ones
wry smiles painfully stretch across
old memories that won’t fade
Young ones scrape to learn
but history books full of lies
do not teach us to love
progress is a slowly growing rose
A feigned solace is felt
moving diagonally
through checkerboard cities
blindfolded with hand-me-down rags
The same songs are sung
in different congregations
by people that won’t ever meet
because silence is too easy
Yet compassion is stirring
dissolving distortions
and blurring lines that divide
slowly waking us to the dream
————————-
Collaboration with Jacqueline (allotherlovers)
Jacqueline’s words in bold
Mine in plain text
