copyright,2014
©aladreth antoinette brown
oh, to tell these words,
Rise, Moon, Rise
the prophets say you are bloody,
associated with
doorposts in egypt stained
with blood
an eight year old boy
in an italian restaurant,
says to me,
"pass over, get it? pass over."
little devious plans of
birth certificate changes,
leaving one identity,
running toward something else
go on then,
Rise, Moon, Rise
the poets love you,
and I, not claiming to be, have looked you
straight in the face,
and not found any deeper happiness
than upon the head of hollow bell pin
with miniature societies
holding dream-screams,
tarantulas in bunny suits
with capes of lace
or a man ...
OH, GOD LOVE THE MAN,
a man who comes
over and over and over again
and then, what a twat, he
threatens to walk out
i am naked, alone
waiting for a chauffeur to drive me there
and sit patiently on my drape-style orange sofa
while i turn down the thermostat
because my mother would be angry, crazy-angry!
just how old am i ???
naked
but for a towel,
not nearly covering anything
no one cares, i am invisible,
i whisper,
"come back,
help me save
the creek, the sound of
which you like"
(oh, don't pretend you don't remember
when you said you liked the sound
of Oak Creek)
oh, what a shame this and that
are dying
and my leo has had to become involved,
and what a shame we know nothing,
so little ...
each day learning ...
today it was lion cubs being hidden
as leopards - so, so, so cute
even if on the back of a cereal box.
from the corner of my eye,
the bad eye, the eye that can't be trusted,
"It is a javelina,
no! it is a dog,
don't punch it!"
hold me,
comfort me
stop me from stoning
every good thing,
help me remember
the girl who sang
of the heart, the cross,
the me,
she sang and under me
blossomed
even as bad as i was, OH DEAR,
under me blossomed
still,
she agreed!
i was a stone!
i asked her to sit on my
cold, old lap,
sort of a cross between,
"Fuck you, and a genuine thanks
for the compliment."
sure, ask them if i am losing it,
like they would know
you in my prison, you bringing cake,
cake with a file,
there's a kiss you bring
soul synchronized kiss,
how lackadaisical you are
over and over again
in your buzzy red wine hair
So go on, moon, go on,
Rise, Moon, Rise
stir passion,
no matter it chemically created,
i will take it,
to learn new steps in the dance
of life-pomegranate-chakra
vibrating light,
imprinting that scent,
beer like your mom (she was such a fishwife) used to make,
forsaken places, water towers, or little sheds by train tracks,
mister ed lived there or whatever
the boogeyman was called back then
...SCARY, YET ... there was a thousand dollars
under his mattress!!!
YES! YES! YES!
bring us to the second life
of magic,
magic that did not have to be
pirated ... by us filthy human ones ...
Rise, Moon, Rise
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| Rise, Moon, Rise |
