Then mirrors, then men

shadowed moonlight visions I heard

the familiar downpour

always a hollow, almost terrified

shower.

morphed for a thousand and one years of suppression

between rock and the softness

of one set free in an unknown yet shackled way.

i heard but never found the leaking source in time

to perhaps embrace in the way sadness marries hopelessness

giving birth to a single way

forward that at times

promises a thing like

peacefulness.

i was lost most times-

between

the vision and the slippery slopes.

It is now, somewhere between

a past unfinished and a new moon

that I saw the many men crouched, as though in

meditation.

their cries as a melody of shattered mirrors grappling for a reflection

a conclusion of self, a climax of revelations

laid waste but sprouting still

And then the gong-

And then the silence.

mirror became steel again

and all stood upright in a fortitifude that embroidered

silence

around pain.

Ode to the asshole

We all gathered. Gathering meant an event. It meant some possible specks of different on our grey lives.

And so we gathered.

And I was summoned.

I feared they might not understand. This reason for rage, this apparent loathing for the creation and existence of another- much like me? I thought not.

 

This is my ode to the asshole!

The one who makes promises he cannot keep.

The one who expects to receive always and is never satisfied with what is good.

The one who already has perfect but will trade it in for used- often.

The one who almost always has allergies for the truth, faith, trust and honesty.

Whose ego is blinding and ignorant. And often unnecessary.

 

This is my ode to the asshole!

Who has taken and taken but is yet to pay his credit.

Who has preyed on the “sweet and innocent” for far too long.

Who has learned to speak in forms of pick-up lines and cheesy romance novels.

Who expects chocolates and roses to be the only expectation.

Who has grown to believe that “easy” is the norm and the new religion.

 

This is my ode to the asshole!

Who lurks behind the shadows of misplaced “daddy issues” and a never-present Mother.

Whose hands are always waiting to slither between warm thighs.

Whose belief in chastity and self preservation have been lost in the passion of a poorly punctuated r n’ b song.

Who is always ready for the laying down, the getting in and the coming but somehow unavailable for the diaper changes and utility bills.

Who will fool you too often and break your heart too soon.

 

This is to the asshole!