No Road To Recovery

redcloakwoman
Closed Eyes|Odilon Redon — circa 1894

An Experimental Audio Micro-Poem

We have been stripped
of the lives we knew
 — thrown into
the lives we hate by
keepers who do not know
what it means to be kept.


Originally published in Other Doors via Medium.


*Author’s Note: The Powerhouse introduced The Handmaid’s Tale to me and I have found myself binge-watching every episode, trying not to let myself become too angry with each new dive into the “fictional” lives of women who have been stripped of the lives that they once knew and forced into the lives of those who want nothing more of them than “miracle babies.” I cannot fathom what it must feel like to be raped on a consistent schedule with empty rhetoric and twisted biblical scriptures as reputable reasons for their drastic and inconceivable ways of life decided by those in power or considered the “Upper Echelon” of the U.S. of A.What’s even scarier? It feels like we could be headed in that direction.

savoir-faire

An Audio Poem

After Bathing, Woman Drying Herself|Edgar Degas

I think it was your knowledge
of everything grim yet hopeful
and all things political that
lured me to you.
I could be even more honest and
say that your poetry captivated me
from the moment I saw you
among a host of others, those who
did not strike the first blow.

You–you had an air about you
that said, “I bite, but gently,” and
I am stubborn and attracted to
what can both harm and love me
at the same time.
Is it any wonder that I’d fall
for such an enigma?
For such a mysterious creature
not yet sure of herself either?

But your savoir-faire precedes you,
I shook hands with it,
before I laid eyes on you.

Spinning

An Audio Poem

1957.13.2 002
Head of a Negro Boy|Alice Pike Barney

I am not the heart beating in his chest
no sense of calm can make the storm
raging in him subside.
I say that I know his pain,
but truly, do I?

Am I walking the same path?
He has his hands raised above his
head permanently, 
a shell of a soul,
residing in a body beaten from the
very earth that struck it into being
.

Dust upon dust,
dirt upon dirt.
He shows no form of mimicry —
an exhausted
engine chugging towards an unknown
destination
.

I am trying to learn about his
relentless past, 
how it hangs over him,
dangling like fresh meat.

He tells me that the damaging years
are far behind him and
I see truth glimmering in his eyes.

We all have our demons, our battles.
You are fighting yours. I am fighting mine.

Are you willing to win because
I have no time for another loss.”

The way he holds his mouth,
terrified of uttering the truth,
makes me love him even more.

Makes me realize that
he has groundwork to lay and
the foundation of us may have
to be placed on hold.

The spinning web we have
weaved holds no sustenance.
Everything caught, must be
released.


Originally published in P.S. I Love You via Medium.

Steep (An Audio Poem)

hot, decaffeinated tea…

Steep (An Audio Poem)

2 months coffee free, sober to
your antics, my eyes
open, the light is here.

no longer am I blind to your
cloak of disapproval.

bold and transparent, you are revealed.
I got out before you could
pen me in.
before my heart could break again
before I fell deeper than
the waves could carry me.

I won’t lie, there’s no need for it.
you still fill me up,
your scent, steeping in my skin–
the more I smell you,
the harder it is

to get clean.

Pressure An Audio Poem

I believe that if we listen closely, we can hear God speaking. I find him mostly in the clouds. He hears what I have to say.

Pressure An Audio Poem

It is the pressing pulse
of a whisper that
knows no birth

the guise, cloaked in
nightlife, tucked in lies,
a play on little more than less
of what you had yesterday and
more than less of what you need
for tomorrow

your new adventure,
categorized in “Lifestyles”
only to be forgotten
next year

pressure–the underdog
and overweight extension
of a life you wish you
had, but know you
will never get