There was a time where time did move slowly calculated differently~
A feeling so singular
A despair that numbs
No one around you
No where for them to come
Much less would you run if they did
Who can you trust
In this life you have to have one
At least they say it’s a must
Don’t believe them
A home that is lost
Friends walk away
Seems in this life
Nothing will stay
Able to just think
Into the pits of ominous clouds
Thoughts of a past screams out loud
People who loved you
All I can feel
Is completely inept
A fear that grips
A suffering so real
That all you have left
Is no way to feel
~Like a moth to the flame, bursting with light, I eagerly follow and put forth no fight~wings spread outward fluttering fast, I am hoping to captivate love at long last~burning the edges as I ignite in flame when I finally realize that it’s not a game~I struggle to back track to gain back my strength I’m slowly learning that you will go to any length~This marvelous magic stunning surreal I am waking up and I can now feel~ your powerful magnetism drawing me near as I let down my walls and abandon all fear~
Make no mistake as I slowly burn, that time has a way to make it your turn~
So when you feel powerful, all above, remember the fine line between hate and love~
You’ve been allowed into my secrets and my tethered torn walls~make no quick movements right now I can show you heaven or hell somehow~Moths are like butterfly’s in so many ways~transforming even burning it’s life light churning~Emerging with brilliance shimmering light perhaps it maybe you who will now have to fight, I’ll make it so true, and most definitely real to a point that I’m all that you Will feel~
I’ll burn in my heart, I’ll burn in my hell, I’ll take this time as the tides begin to swell~ this current this flame is not a game, I speak clearly now~and you’ll scream my name, I’ve screamed yours on a time or two/too
Suppose it’s that flame that keeps it real ~keeps it true.
Aaaahhh yes You.
Not for Reproduction~
My Mon was 78 years old right there in the photo, just saying~
Momma I called Dennis today, been 7 years since you passed away.
I was sick in my mind and was unable to help when you died.
Momma we had a very strained relationship I felt that you tried……. the best you knew how, oh how I wish you were here now.
The words I speak now are still hard to find.
After 7 years I asked Dennis, I never met face to face.
If he would render the ashes, if not where they were placed?
Momma he couldn’t you see.
I searched Cecil down and what a surprise he did tell. By the way he is doing well.
He poured out your ashes onto your mothers grave.
It was to late for your ashes for me to save.
Momma I’m sorry I was sick in my mind, there were many around me who were very unkind. You warned me long ago but I didn’t take heed. Watch who you let in and what exactly they need. They will cling to you, your life force and will breed.
Momma it is bittersweet to know the day you passed & went away that you mailed the card to me that very day.
Momma you already know I grieve differently than most.
I have delayed grief it takes many years to finally sink in.
Just like when Dad died ashes to wind, he died on my birthday as you already knew. He died 7 years before you.
Momma lately you haunt my dreams… I want you to know I don’t have a Stone where your ashes did go, so this is your headstone now this is your grave.
Momma you kept secrets to tell……
But I’m not sure if those secrets went to heaven or hell.
I’ll never know but I can presume you’re finally at rest you paid the price you passed the test.
I know your life was really hard it was far from the best.
How I wish things were different
How they could’ve been.
Momma receiving the card you sent on the day of your death,
It was delivered 3 days later
I opened the mail box took a deep breath.
Momma the last two years of your life we became close
I want you to know I miss you and Dad both.
You lived through Katrina I found your sons as you asked, I never knew you had many children each one you left except me, I don’t know why,
And will never understand why it was me? Or why the others never came to see, except my sister Jackie
But time has a way to change what has past make it what’s best.
Momma I talked to Dennis to day
Twice before too, this is what he would say “Kismet” at first I didn’t know what he meant
Didn’t know how time moves,
How time is spent.
I know that will be the last time I’ll talk to him as he announced to me his Kismet is due.
Momma Dennis is now 71 years old.
He had a few stories that needed to be told.
His accent sounded so good so Cajun you see the blood so creole in you and in me.
Momma you instilled in me the Bible and quotes each day
At night on bent knee psalms 91 we would pray.
I still can recite it in its entirety today.
Momma you were known as the great fortune teller who lived on the bayou I saw what you did…….
How you always eventually knew.
People would come from cities around to see what was ahead of them to see what you found.
You used a plain deck of cards for you to see what would be.
The kings and the Queens and jokers Jumped out of the deck.
Taking inventory gave them the check read them the mail from the outer realm, touched by the unseen, you taught some to me, taught my unseen instincts only you could at first see.
Prophetic words spilled out of your mouth. You could summon the knowledge from North, West, East and south.
You never approved of any man I brought before you.
They were not good enough,
They weren’t good men.
“Not able “you’d say to give my daughter only truth long the way, to love me as needed, to protect me from harm, guess you knew that none existed so you never did tell how life could often be hell.
People clouded by lies shackled in death, confessing only in their last breath.
I’m so sorry momma I couldn’t get you in a casket into the ground.
But Jimi sang a song just for you how profound
“The wind cries Mary” all around.
I think of you when I hear that song, Jimi tapped into your life somehow in that unseen realm… I think it’s cool and truly old school.
How could he see the creole Mary how the wind would cry your name, how the words painted your life, your strife, your hope, the saddest thing to me was you had to learn to cope.
So Momma this is your headstone on the web of the world immortalized but your story not all told.
Momma I too now am getting old.
Your grandson is growing up to, I see so much of me in him like I see so much of you in me.
Funny how life works how it moves along somehow.
Momma I pray for your blessing as I move along on my quest
Momma inside me I know you’re at rest.
Mary Louise Bourgeois
7/12/1927 – 9/30/2010
In that photo she was 75… died at age 83.
I write many poetic pieces some beautiful… But I’m truly a cynical poet
I hope you can read this and gain its truth and remember that death can happen in youth. Enjoy.
~Breath Suffocate Untimely Death~
Suffocating upon needs that are often forgotten losing importance~
Open that window let the outside in~
The world we’ve been born into our earned sin~
Sent to reside foolish rules often broken we hide despise ….hypocrites …are we? living within, believing without seeing thoughts clouded over with doubt~
Knowing mask shields unspoken thoughts of fear rejection, desire for perfection~
Casual communication God help please, oh please can you repeat that sentence again, go on say that again, and again. It’s repetitive resound stealing time never gaining it back, stolen suffocating spit it out quickly speech just runs on, is there ever an end into this needles repetition yet again and again~
Suffocating, choking refusing to see hide between tasks between lies wearing masks, craving the spotlight that place, face in lights flashing brightly above others, laughing fake, fifteen minutes of fame forgetting the game is debilitating yet feeling the importance the sickening strain~
Feeling like winning first place in a fifth grade science fair feeling proud having others stare at your perfect work your well thought masterpiece
Still searching for that aching relief~
Sit right there suffocating, breathe just breathe, breathe that breath suck it in trying secretly all the while unsure where to begin~
Pass time with confidence those we propagate later to only negate, even family often we hate yet smile into that camera dance that dance, talk that talk, walk that walk robbing yourself, suffocate go on hold that breath the way all this is going all these dreams unfulfilled goals diminished work so unfinished and breathing it in won’t bring back the breath in the end all that’s left that elusive breath searching for air often life is completely unfair~
Crave always craving cunning tongue spews forth truth that are truly lies, the soul bleeds and cries loudly inside, keep that smile, smile really big take that picture hold that moment elegant style, ah yes elegant style that picture so perfect that fake ass smile~
That image that picture of holding our breath suffocating, breathe, don’t breathe instead we leave pieces, scattered in space knowing all the while about that untimely place it suffocates negates~
Gasp try to breathe Instead hold that breath because in this life the one thing that is certain none will escape the beautiful yet pitiful untimely death. Death, we all die can’t you see this with your mortal eye? Is there such thing as a timely death? No. Either way breathe your last breath. So suffocate hold your breath that breath sucking in and hold tight but you can never win the fight~
Suffocating in the shadow of hate together a dance eternal as two souls mate~
Still evermore mediate, complicate, hate is exactly that which often suffocates you, me all that we see death awaits in each corner, ending breath so breathe breath, suck it in but you will not win born to die blind eyes see the heaven clatters and hell shakes, no way to determine the in or out pray unto God your soul is tried true otherwise the devil waits upon you~
A fashion and mold so uniquely you so breathe go on and breathe all the while suffocating forgetting the origin of divinity of which we were born~
Sent straight from heaven down to this earth, the Creator God that gave breath allowed our birth, still suffocate feel that nothing left suffocated by the shackles of this existence the very creation that was executed flawlessly or so thought but was it in blood that we were bought?~
A pawn in a game of chess you see, the stadium of gods watch and wait to reach for their pawn to take, and before we go to the creator that made you, me, will you breathe your last breath or suffocate~
The question remains did you live your life in love or live life in vain? Very simply one can hate scratching cursing as they suffocate. Truly can you breathe?~
Wind enticing leaves blowing the flowers slightly bending but to feel that breeze, its unseen force blowing touching the skin and caressing our hair ah yes the wind so wild and free ever reminding of the unseen breath that nature does take yet not enough do we stop for a brake to enjoy the mysterious breeze created by the forces of nature still suffocate, clearly not seen that we’re not breathing we suffocate did you receive that moment as the wind whisked by, or did you gasp choke allowing breath a foreboding goodbye? Flooded ever breaking crashing suffocating slowly stealing each breath it was bought never ours to begin, it was borrowed from God and elements unknown yet meet the supreme being who sits on the throne so breathe as you suffocate letting go, your last breath as you finalize your inevitable untimely death~
Not For Reproduction~
His beautiful tactics always full of wonderment
Able to take my tears from falling
Able to remove my mind from crawling into corners of darkness
Pillow fight mom!
Smack upside the corner of my head
His laughter as it echoes
Throughout the house
Saying angelic words only heard in times of despair
Mom, why are you crying?
No baby don’t worry I’m just sad.
Echoes from a past I’ll never recapture
Hopes of another time when I’ll be able to claim his fellowship as mine with me
His laughter as it echoes
Love you Mom
Love you too son….