root mother unearthed

Mother of mothers
with generations
nestled in the crooks and folds
of arms, skin,
swinging from gnarled joints
shaping wisdom with your hands smelling of soil
An unbreakable force of time and ages
Etched into your stern face

But I know how that face
longed to smile in wonder
I know why you doted on that doctor
There was nothing licentious in your attention
His knowledge unearthed a cavern where there was room
To hear yourself speak as someone other than that myth
To be proud of something other than the accomplishments of those you bore
To laugh, dance
and shout your name
The one they discarded
when you were grafted to the family tree
To carve their history into your skin

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middle-aged

Now that our days of inspiration
have been quartered
into unrealistic pipe-dreams
feeding repackaged innovations
their intent subtracted
from the bottom line
and our creations
turned into investments
we watch grow
We now can laud
our experience and hindsight
leaving us nothing but
to contrive models
and devise systems
to explain and predict
the paths of even the freest radicals
and the capital to construct machinations
to harness their energy
to warm the comfortable cages
we build to live out the rest
of our pointless days

daily post: age

crossing past

This river runs as always
Low and dirty as my mind
What won’t flow with it
Gathers behind
Trapping debris
Into piles of a past
Determined to outlast
Its purpose

Once words flowed like tears
Carving rivers of expectations
To carry us beyond intent
Scraping against that rocky bottom
Without feeling the sting

My thoughts wade back
Through the sludge
Looking for shards that shine
Enough worth keeping
Or cut enough
To make me move on

Now beneath there is silence
Only creaks are in my bones
There is nothing to distract me
From knowing I’m alone

sweet n sour

Last night I dreamt
you asked me to hold you
and I ardently tried my best
You lay so still as if fulfilled
had I but been someone else

blame

I wish I could blame it
on media and capitalism
and patriarchy and classism
or some other ideal of no worth
but all the abuse
and deception I’ve brooked
was born from this need
to be loved

daily prompt: ascend

equinox

this cusp belies
of winter’s end
though I know
it won’t bring spring
I should learn to enjoy
the warm itch of wool
than wane yearning
for the touch of your skin

interpreting silence

it is because I know
what you have done
and what more
you are capable of
that I now know
there is no excuse
possible or plausible
other than that
nothing is what
you want most
from me

you and words

life goes on just like before
contracts signed and others torn
though I rarely read a single line
like I did between yours
just to find I would be
the only one bound
to no gains
and expected to refrain
from expectations

I have no reasons only rhymes

to excuse the time I wasted
offering views to the blind
I preferred the words
and how they swirled
in my eyes and mouth
so much more than you

but without you they scatter
I’m adrift amidst a mist
of letters that refuse
to gather into clouds
and rain a relief
I can turn into words
to drown my fear
that you have all
I wish I did not need

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