easy peasy lemon squeezy

boy, what is the need
to stretch, to pluck; i fall for you
like low hanging fruit

The Purpose

He’s gone

And I can’t remember the last thing I said to him

How long did I not have any words for him?

Besides the vitriol I spewed here in 2012.

I keep telling everybody “He fulfilled his purpose.”

Maybe I’d actually know the purpose he strived for

Had we exchanged real thoughts

If only I tried, not to roll my eyes.  

I wish I could find out-

If he mentally prioritised in his final moments

The agony of pain or

the vacuum of a mute granddaughter. 

You know 

My feelings are just hyperbole at this point 

Weren’t they always?

So am I tearing up because I miss him?

Or is it the guilt

That most days I just don’t have it in me

To be a good person. 

And then one day

I will too just be ashes,

Reduced by the conflagration we call Life,

Flowing down a filthy and incurable “holy” river 

(Perfect for washing away my sins!)

And someone with a fraction of my DNA

Will share their empty words to convey

They can’t remember the last thing they said to me.

Is it not enough?

Is it not enough

To sing to my four walls

The walls have ears too

They hear just because

Is it not enough

A gift was received and nurtured

We’re mother and child forever

So how did it become a burden?

Is it not enough

That I am always happy in its midst

Any heartbreak I can survive

As long as within me it exists

Is it not enough

Or do I too need to wear a dress

Slap on some makeup and rock the mic

Like a dervish possessed?

Is it not enough

That I sing just to hear you say

You are the most beautiful girl in the world

...it always, always makes my day