You came

You came
without alerting me
Was I to know
that your feet were clean
before you entered?

Now, there isn’t a vacuum
to clean up the mess
You made inside the home
I made comfortable for myself
My self now houses
all that your soul conquered

You came
to get me to say,
“I’m sorry you had to wait”
If only I held out a little longer,
You couldn’t have come
and I couldn’t hate you
like I do now

It would have been
someone else
who cared about what
they brought inside

The Race is…

The race is
Going to the store
Seeing different colored cards
Being used by friends
Wanting one so badly
Hating life

The race is
Told by a pretty blonde
She knows her husband is
Bigger, stronger, faster
And better
Despite popular belief
The cause is her effect

The race is
Swearing children don’t imitate
Their atmosphere
Until words are spoken
at the wrong time
wants to blame the school
and sue

The race is
Seeking solace from church
And the Bible
Remembering only what
Is necessary
To shine light
On what is dark

The race is
Voting in a sheet covered
Small box with a drawstring
while choices are made on beliefs
Not righteousness
With all eyes in the back
the print on the page
is overlooked

The race is
known for Right versus Wrong
dying to be a martyr
never waivering

The Church of Mercy

Show me again

How we do it

Do I have to be under covers

or is it something I can share

with my brothers

Show me again

How we do it


I may dress the same

as they do

Or maybe I just hold the chalice

better for You

Oh, the things I hold


Reading as You talk aloud

I get a sense of urgency

to be proud

Such a sensation

Comes over me

Until a face turns and gives me pity


Show me again

How we do it


Your word is Your bond

and of that, I’m quite fond

To know that I should know better

when Your voices becomes

an “I Love You” letter

Never will I divulge my secret crush



So, Show Me again

What made You do this to me


Was it the air I breathed

when You walked by

Did my subservience entice You

and fixate Your eyes on the sky?

How many times did I

touch Your robe

Before we made plans

to see the golden globe?


But, in time, I’ll be on my own

Trying to establish a name

from which I’ve grown

And Anaphora will keep haunting me

in ways that it could only be

Show Me again

what made You do this to me


Show Me again

so I can have my one true friend

I love you, because you’re an alcoholic (2)

She knew all of them.  He knew hers.  The knowing of why he got married never behooved mom.  For goodness sakes, she had grandchildren.  Not the first of grandchildren, but no less, he produced.  Just like she did.  Who cares if it was the church who pretty much forced her and her husband together.  The church felt it would be best that they stayed together, despite what it knew.  Maybe, it was their idea of ‘conversion therapy.’  Little did he know, that nickname her son acquired in college, Lou, which stood for “Loser,” would come back to haunt him.  Many, many times.
     As the drinking got heavier and heavier, the dementia and anger grew more fiercely.  His mom would throw physical tantrums at her best friend.  Never once did she assault her husband.  The police were called to carry her away each time.  Still, her was constantly reminded of his failed attempts at life, at living.  But, as her determined hate professed, so did her son’s.  When she hit, he hit back.  Once it was all over, no one remembered a thing.  Except for the apparent bruises and scratches and scrapes.  This obviously made him an even bigger loser.  Yet, through it all, her detached god-fearing husband could be found barricaded in his room all nestled on the tiny sleeper sofa that fit kindly into the short bedroom he called his own.  Mom finally broke the camel’s back when she was caught driving under the influence after leaving her younger daughter’s home.  Guess who came to her rescue?
     It wasn’t too long after her release, the authorities were called to their home again.  This time, it would be her last stay at the home she let the tormented spirits fester.  Walking into the front door, one might ask why the walls were so dark and that there were no window coverings.  I knew.  Along with all the crosses on the tables and walls, the Jesus pictures hung so strategically, cut-outs of biblical sayings posted about on refrigerator and bedroom doors…there was trouble there that had no plans of fleeing anytime soon.  Even after she left, the dad still slept with his light on.
     There were those times when my partner would attempt his own hand at withdrawal.  One particular event had his younger sister witness him having a seizure in the aisle of a Hobby Lobby.  It would be her only time doing this.  Her own bouts of repression and drinking would make her more numb to the fact that, all awhile she was left with Sybil, her brother and eldest sister abandoned her and the youngest brother for college.  Was her about to leave again, under different circumstances?  She wanted to be a part of his life without the future hands-on experience.  All the while, little sis knew that mom and dad were enabling her brother’s non-sobriety.
     Her sought help at every turn.  Sadly, when he felt the need to return to the emergency room, his family members were too busy to go in and sit with him.  They would just pull up to the front door and tell him to call them when he was ready to come home.  Where was the love?  He recalled the time that was most traumatic to him when he was escorted to a mental ward.  He didn’t know why he was there.  He wanted help because of his drinking issue.  That was all.  Somehow, he talked his way free and walked the seven miles back home in the dead of winter.  Putting his life in further jeopardy, he accepted a ride from a group of college kids who felt he garnered a lift.  Everything’s a blur, after that.  They all wanted to know how he made it back to the house…without calling either of them.

My Derby Hat

See You turn Left
Knowing You would tell me
that You went right
How could You not see me
I was right behind You
I had the look
You know
The walk
The wave
The Yell
All that I wore
wasn’t even
It’s off to the races I go
I anticipate the winner
Without the hype
My brim is Best In Show
And still You would tell me
Show me
That I am not
It’s my horse that’s faltered
The pasture is calling
You jumped the gun
Glad I bet against you
I liked the odds
And I wear it so well

Can I hate you?

Can I hate you

for loving me too long

Can I hate you

for making us a sweet love song


Can I hate you

for always being right?

Can I hate you

for never putting up a fight?


Why should I hate

when love is what I need

Will I ever relate

when my past only made me bleed

But I love you

Although I should hate you

This much is true

Just that I don’t want to


Can I hate you

for being so good to my friends

What won’t you do

when you don’t have to make amends?


Can I hate you

when I know you love me?

How You’ll never have a clue

 as long as I say, “I Love You”


I don’t want to

I can’t hate you

I can’t hate you

Because I don’t want to

The New Nurse and the Old Game

Doctor Doctor

Please come quick

one of your nurses is

making me sick

Just look at me,

don’t I look thin?

Maybe it’s because of

the color of my skin

I don’t want to die

that’s why I came here

It was the outside

I thought I had to fear

She barely even speaks

or care to look at me

Just tell me what I’ve done

just what could it be

There’s not a sign of respect

though let me refer to my age

Days of yesteryear I reflect

Somebody forgot to turn the page

Why is this so

Have the times not changed?

Below my pillow my face will go

as I will be called demented and deranged

I hear she went to school

to learn how to make me feel better

I guess somebody was made the fool

And gave me the scarlet letter

Doctor Doctor

can’t you see

I really think she has it out for me

I know I heard her talking


Then again, maybe it was just


About how the life would be so


The closer it was to the color

of rice

She’s afraid to touch my hair

Says I should do it myself

Not a hint or sign of care

as I have to get my brush from

the high shelf

Should I slip or fall

on my back or on my face

If she could send me back

I might be treated with grace

Why oh Why

I cry to the sky

Lying so often in waste

Festering with lye

I long ago thought of the tales

I would tell

Surrounded by little ones

Instead of the book smart from Hell

Now when I close my eyes

I try and force dreams of love

Feeling my body drift and rise

And looking down below from above

Doctor Doctor

Why are you here?

Is there anyone for whom you’ve

shared a tear?

Are you aware

Or do you care

Memories you can share

Shed the evil, if you dare

Treat me

like I’m a human being

Treat me

Like I am worth seeing

Doctor Doctor

Tell me true

Why does my nurse make me feel Black

And make me so blue?