Here is Mystery
We serve the Queen’s
Tea with equal parts
Order and Chaos
We hide in the birth canal
Snuggling into a pain
We know
Pale in her full moon bath,
Nude among the lotus
Each month she
Orders Disintegration
Each time emerging
A translation of
An ancient spell
We cook lamb and mint,
Strawberries and pour red wine
For her Hot Date
With Mystery
The court whispers, peeking
Through the door, “Will they
Finally make love?”
She wipes her lips
And leans to her, “Do you
Want to fuck?”
Tag: psychology
Don’t Glamorize the Wicked
You’ve lingered just a little too long in the bathroom for me to not be suspicious. There are pink boba, shaped like little flowers there are marshmallows with burnt on smiles in a creamy pastel drink and cotton candy placed as a cloud, blushing delicately above a cup of rolled ice cream.
“Mag, don’t you want a drink too?” Says Genny.
My friend, I am powerless when you take so long in the bathroom. I’ve never waited and worried before. Never waited and wondered before. Your little bones peek out these days your beaming eyes leak purple bruises your lips are cracked and bleed you are too thin. I’ve been there before oh how I wish I didn’t know.
Love is painful when I am powerless with you
Dear, an ice cream is enough for me. Do not feel pulled by the ghosts of my sharp habits you comment on eating 3 tacos on feeling a lack of control around friends. My chere, you are a lily that never dies.
Do Not Romanticize the Wicked Things that affect those I Love.
Summer 2018 (edited and posted in Winter 2020)
…And then Water came with an Attitude and a Diamond Ring
I wanted to, no, I needed to save them all. I was their god, and they depended on me. If they are hurt, it is in my name. I pray they never learn how resentful I am. But look how they sleep, pure and peaceful.
…And then water came, she was beautiful, she shook us up & tore everything down & hopped off to then next highway town with new golden earrings and a diamond ring. We never saw her again and things were never quite the same.
We all miss her smile.
I took a look around at all the babies and somehow they were all okay, tucked in tightly in bed. It’s almost as if they didn’t notice that water had come and gone at all. Maybe she hadn’t been as destructive as I thought.
God- how many years ago was that now?
Maybe she lulled them to sleep.
Maybe she’ll come back home.
Murder You, Anoint You Holy, and Call You Baby
Aware of the fear of the present
Moment that big cat stalks closer rustling
Sharp grasses. Somewhere between
Black gowns in my closet a rush against
Velvet and bleary eyed in bed I fumble
For that flashlight in the hot night & my sweaty
Fingers anxiously find the light.
There is a low thunder from Tiger’s throat.
& my trembling hands swoop a beam of light like a hawk in large arcs through the darkness
Tunnel vision. Rays and Squids could possibly float
In this dark expanse a feline predator lurks
Waits for me. Where might she be?
Cool sheets cling to me as I rise, toes first and spin, flashlight marking the walls.
Then
A parting in the leaves,
Expose
A pair of gleaming eyes
No, but it’s a mirror!
Oh, terror!
It is me!
Simply me
All of me
Ugly and sexy and soft, ready to murder to anoint you holy to call you baby
I wish I could look away
There is no cage
There is fear of the power within.
To Appraise Wonder: The Holy Mundane
I adore you quietly
You rest in slippers in my mind
There is no shaking of the
Walls of my heart
No prisoners, no hostages
You or
I cherish you purely
And yet I am hurt in the
Sweetest way comfort and care
Come along and take pain
Into swollen hands
& Heartbreak spends the night
With compassion and
I fall in love with wonder
At this grassy valley these
Soft creatures, again
And again that
Embrace the pain
Of heartbreak. The
Numb of solitude to have
A glimpse at a lover’s
Messy hair
Each morning to
Hum a body to
Collide with
Something Solid
Something
Human
I fall in love with the fragile pain of longing
This is not a story
I do not have to be okay
A happily ever after is not demanded by some
Celestial editor.
Censoring feelings and desires
Approving expressions of Pleasure
Rejecting the colors of Pain
I meet a tendency to
Chase wonder
Attribute healing
To grandness a possible
Exclusion not allowing the
Holy Mundane
To try her hand to whisper smaller truths
Looking for the drum circle
Listening for the bonfire who’s
Full moon is here? In the less
Exciting the Sacred Mundane
What does she have to say?
Maybe in Houston
In the Suburbs a
14 year old Blonde Girl may also
Look towards the moon she is
The Same moon
I might be dancing around
A fire in New Orleans, nude and
Kissed with emerald paint
In skirts in moss we sweat we
Circle hot air
Carries over to you
The Grasses under
Your Feet may be Manicured
Planted outside a Stucco House with
Broth colored walls. I
Couldn’t tell the difference between
The homes in your Existence yet
Maybe you could Maybe
The difference is all the matter
The Shades of Blonde
You choose to adorn your hair could
Make all the difference
Her picket fence
May look dead to me
Her mom’s SUV reflects
My moon crisply washed
Yet she is the same moon
I worship and maybe as
You gaze towards her
You will choose to live another day
Maybe you worship her in a way
I will Never understand
Maybe someone will find tiny spells
In Cracks in the garden wall
Maybe someone will find salvation
In a gardenia flower behind an Air Conditioner Unit
Those Mockingbirds are as revered as a roseated spoonbill
Those Grasses as meaningful as the haunted cypress
In fact it is I that limits wonder
I am not the appraiser of magic
There is wonder all around me
All the time.
You do not have to prove you are Alive
____
Fall 2019
Who brings Sunflowers to a Moonlit Mass?
Mary,
My beating Heart
It was never me who was broken
Magdalena you saw I was wounded but
I saw the wounds as who I
Was told it was part of my brain
Mary I was never sick
Mag I am not sick
Maggie such normalcy,
not drama, I
told them I loved the drama
dress in black
Adorn with creatures of the night
Wearing sunflowers does not
Kill the freak in me, this part
loves pale flowers that
Only bloom
Under full moons
I am the favorite nectar of bats
Weaving serpents to slumber in my braids
Mary my brokenness is not empty
We tell ourselves what we need to hear
We tell others what we really need to hear
We dance with werewolves at the moonlight mass
2019 (Spring or Summer)
Hold Me like a Bird
Hold me like a bird with
Equal fear
That I
May be crushed
Or that I may
Fly away forever
Holding rabbits, pigeons,
Snakes and mice they
Do not run
Because they are angry
They run
Because they are
Afraid
Fall 2018 (found and edited from old journal in Winter 2020)
I Don’t Recommend Creating an Entire World
I can make a cage beautiful.
Childhood disorientation in Cajun Country, Louisiana late 90s isolated Family Trauma I struggled to understand what was happening around me so I created imaginary worlds: paracosms, something I could understand, somewhere beautiful and just for me to organize and create rules and guidelines which brought other children to me through creating myself as strange and shocking in the conservative Southeast.
Ability to turn inward from the external chaos, a choice to live in stories live in imagination so the dive into storytelling was natural. I created imaginary worlds with these complex narratives and characters and creatures and whole generations of royalty and history that went back hundreds of years. Saturday nights were for staying up late drawing maps of the kingdom and creating poetry of their hero’s tale. There were wars to mediate and rally my classmates to join. I created special devices that were handheld and carried creatures from class to class tucked under my arm and more and more to create and expanding this world of endless possibility. Other children were drawn in by the bizarre and the ones that were repelled, I never liked them anyway. There was a rush, a power in the polarization I manifested.
As an adult I thought, well, who do want to be? I want to be a witch. I want to be a poet. I want to be this weird, ethereal thing that lives in this strange, fantasy aquarium, a fairy terrarium. Almost a thing of myth, a semi secret character who is shut off from everything and you can look in this regular, inconspicuous home and see this strange little world that just takes your breath away that is decorated with moss and lavender, ivy and animal skulls adorned with black roses it’s like a secret discovery I’m always looking into a weird little world of sorts, usually hidden in plain sight if you just know where to look in the palm of my hand and not only am I gazing into and feeling pulled in deeper especially to care for this world and these creatures, their pure survival dependent on me.
But the truth is I have placed myself into that world so not only am I looking into it, holding it in my hands but I am physically trapped in that world too which was created to understand something, anything in the chaos to feel a shard of agency it is Mine created in beauty and wonder, created in a last ditch effort for salvation. This I can choose to share or define there is a clear idea of my role and my expectations, I am needed and important. And yet it is simple that as I stare as a zombie into this small treasure, eyes in a mirror stare blankly back into me. For I created myself in my perfect image, in my perfect imagination. For I am trapped here as well, trapped into my own perfect creation.
I can make a cage beautiful.
Fall 2019
I Need to Quit Regurgitating Goddesses
Last night something was emerging
From the belly from the depths
Fear was a stabbing pain
Between brows it was Time
Sweaty and retching
There was nothing I could do
Out emerged a sack a pod
Slick with green bile or algae
Hot from the deep shine like a
Clear water balloon
And then she took my breath away
& My eyes full of radiant gold
& She began to glow and shine
Fins wave rhythmically illuminating
Gold and Hot her atmosphere
Holds countless microscopic shrimp
Surround her in formation- orbit as stars
Satsuma scales cast shadows in the curves of
Her delicate marine body
She chooses to part the rich green leaves around her
Chooses to appear just as she is a scintillating hue
Her world lit in the confidence of simple existence
Her eyes never left mine through the
Dark internal waters and in her
Tiny perfect world from my
Belly dark you slithered up the
Tunnel of my throat I never could have stopped you
You are ever powerful, my little goddess
Her gaze both holds me in perfect comfort
& sees me in off putting clarity for
I am not used to being seen as I am
Oh what magic have I stumbled upon?
Oh what magic has been waiting to ascend from my darkness?
At last, in finality: the truth that
Despite all her majesty despite
Her endless manifestation of peace,
She needs help
I must fiercely protect her
Fall 2019
I Know You Fucking Saw Me
Today I take myself to the New Orleans Museum of Art
Alone past lotus pond a ghost’s reflection a Magical Girl
Sat on the concrete ledge you were once here
With me. I always loved you by my side.
Back inside, down a sleepy hallway
Corridor less wandered
Exists a Golden Cabin I saw you here
Mr. Alligator. Sun kissed pebbles flow
Up my belly warm my breasts
Pool in my collarbones
Whisper your voice lowers for me
You were here many years ago
And I fall in love at City Park again & again
As I always do
You are here somewhere in my body you
Haunt these halls enthralled in mystery
In lust with wonder do you feel me here too?
In ceremony, I approach the golden cabin,
Enter my feet inside the holy indentations
Your boots follow a gilded pathway inside
Breath escapes body we make contact here
Skin to frozen skin between thin metal sheets
Ghost to howling banshee
Stand where you stood, Mr. Alligator. Eyes
Ablaze in molten gold, in mundane splendor
There are metallic smartphones and straws and
old soda can tabs I begin to see simplicity
Now I know why you were here.
This whole fucking city
Our feet, soles to soles
Connect Siamese Twins
I can bet you’ve been about everywhere
I discover myself lonely
Expose a hollow I am
14 years old
Bathe in that old music you got me back into
If I cut myself
If I bled & left a mark a call or please please I am here do you see me?
On Repeat? The Noose?
You were fucking right okay?
The Nurse who Loves Me is my favorite song please tell me how you knew
You fucking Saw me
For a Split second for as long as
I needed, You
Fucking knowStop
You’ve done nothing to hurt me lonely
I fucking hate you
I beg you in finality
Release whatever filth in me in full lucidity you can
Fucking take me
I pray to god one day I will
Have the words to say the Courage to
Face whatever needy, clinging sickness
I orbit you a comet I crash into you Burning fast and
Arrogant, selfishly tearing apart the atmosphere you spent
A decade weaving blankets you insulated
Your heart attempted to snuff out the fires I burst through,
I do not care at all. I am full of violence.
Unstoppable force: You are Welcome Here
Child on Bordered Lines
If she cut her thigh
& bled it all out felt that
Pain white hot counting seconds nursing
Bandages too clean for this filth
I desire most pain
Yet the truth behind the truth is
The shame at the swelling in my heart the
Fantasy that no one could see my dripping wound.
Not a breathing soul would see it there
Could feel that pain
No one could detect it in my eyes
No one would know at all
But the truth behind my heart is the
Secret behind my fantasy is the
Little girl behind my rage that one day
Hopes you will know &
You will feel bad
And you will know
One day
How you have hurt me so
I must disconnect.
“Don’t sleep on a bare mattress again Chere,
When are you gonna stop breaking your heart at City Park,
Like you always do?”
This is dysfunction
This is longing behind
Holding my own body hostage
Behind whatever worth I may or may not have
Behind Check Mate ScreamingWhywon’tyoulovemewhatthefuckdidIdowrong?
Please don’t leave me here
I need you, there I said it,I fucking need you in finality behind
I know you fucking saw me
THIS IS REAL
I AM NOT A GHOST
if only for a split second
I know you fucking saw me
& the deepest truth of all is the pornography I loop in my brain of a fairy tale I read to babies where you look at me all dressed up and all beautiful all fucking funny and taking over the fucking world
And you just know
I don’t have to say a thing
Somehow you just know
You see my suffering
You see through me
Lucid Dreams 