Tuesday, June 11, 2019

half a gram

i dunno, i miss writing. but nothing i have to say
seems original or worth saying. i've lost my voice.
i gave it to love.

not complaining.  sex
is such a power thing. all of it.dominant
the desire to inspire desire.
and we need it.

 honestly sunday
i was null. i just surfed reddit and fb all day.
i let her sleep all day bc it's summer
vacation and you said your best
memories of childhood were
of the times you got to sleep in
and had no commitments, nothing
to do. she slept till sundown. but it's ok
bc your house is like that.








*






the world hasn't ended yet my friend
even tho after dinner my fortune was empty.
i kinda feel that way. like i'm stuck here
in this work/eat/sleep place where the dreams
i can dream are truncated by coughing
myself awake.



the world hasn't ended and the work never will
but the rains began on sunday. everytime i say
that word i feel her.

your mom is hoping that this date
will snap you out of it  your recovery
seems to come like waves. i don't care
to  ride your fundamental religiousity surf.
so i wait till you land, either head in the water
or in the sand.


was thinking how everytime i steal a line
i should quote it. the scarlet ""

e.g.
"so you become a poet like that's not some kind of failure"

or something like that.
i guess have failed. i can't travel
europe with a backpack now
not that i ever wanted to i wanted
to stay in jacuzzi loaded air bnbs
i don't wanna camp it out but
i wouldn't mind walking it out.
i haven't even seen all of usa never mind
america. didn't go to mexico or s/a or
even the bahamas but i got out of the country
at least. went to canada. that was
a good time. i did want to travel
and i got poor and scared almost starved
to death, tied my self to an abuser
not his fault i'm still not blaming that man
even though the way he acts he now
is his fault so i guess you could say
when he became an adult. ...or wait
i don't think you could ever say that.
he does not adult.







that's not to be mean. it's a fact.
i don't wanna think about him.
he pisses me off. he IS an abuser
just like the scum who almost killed him.
a snake's baby gonna be a snake.





that means my babies are snakes . no
only half breeds. i'm a salamander
so their snake got shackled









*


it's five minutes till i should be
at work. no such thing as should
i will not be at work in five.

but i wrote this am
and that may be a start.
only smoked one smoke.
i can't admit it was inside
or i owe five dollars to the house.


















Sunday, May 05, 2019

a to b?

it's a circle, that's what they say but more
vortexish i believe. my grandfather was the writer
i think the only thing i inherited from him till i look 
at my son's widow's peak his lack of baldness he 
got some genie genes. i pull the memories out of the bucket
again, spread them over the bed. the years mix together
a stew of lion's club pins, crafted bumblebee pins, starbux pins
here's a worthless AS degree(occupational, as in this girl
studies just enough to be dangerous) and the text to the high
school play grandpa wrote and produced. in high school.
a newspaper clipping from 1975 of my great grandmother by marriage
 called a pioneer in her small town citing her involvement
in girl scouts and the order of the eastern star. i remember running
to her house when we visited the grands, she woudln't walk
the catty corner backyard to eat dinner with us but
we three girls always wanted to visit her. her house,
when she died, was located directly across the street from
the 2 storey with a sunroom where her and bio granddad
raised their blended family- two daughters and a son, her
two daughters and the baby girl to cement the union.  my grandmother
was the middle child of her father's first marriage. her mom
died in the influenza epidemic of 1912. we didn't know this,
she was always gramma mac to us and my grandmother
was the only one of the children to stay in the small town
where they were raised. she had a piano in her front room.
she never played it but sometimes she let one of us
lift the lid and finger the keys. we were her stepgrands
but we didn't know it. i never met her husband, he died before
i was born. i believe it was the two women's special hell
to be so close yet so far apart. my grandmother was not especially 
astute. her stepmom was a former teacher in the Northern states
and Canada, a Teacher's Normal College Graduate , Woman
of the Year in her small town five years before she died.  not
the kind of woman to suffer fools gladly. it explains why
a woman who had no other children nearby never attended her
step daughter's Sunday or Holiday dinners. as a child  i   
thought she was an invalid. we'd run the 2 large lawns to her place
and enter her stuffy house. 
if we were lucky we didn't have to eat the dry banana bread
left over from her children's visits, she'd break out a new one.
unwrap the foil, give us softened butter to spread' i should ask my dad
what happened between her and mom. i could ask my aunt
but i'm not talking to her. these copies of my grandad's
achievments in the club, the copied text of his play, all come from her.
after she died, she sent a copy of gramma's death certificate with
these random pictures. once this stupid woman took all the family
photgraphy books from the late 19th, early 20th century, bound together
in heavy bookboard, with explanations of the people of holds her 
and the history all in place and carefully pried all the phots out of it.
because she thought she could sell the books for more without them in it.
there is a copy of of the marriage announcement in 1937. my mother, 
born in 1939 holds her first daughter beside my sister with her only. 
a letter from a girl i knew in college demanding an answer slides onto the floor.
i don't know what to tell her. my grandpa's speech in underneath. i don't know what it was for but the woman who attended to gramma's estate thought i should have along with : a couch
china closet, dresser, bok case, metal desk, dishes, tv, pots and pans, while she has questions on
lamps, tv stand, microwave, little oven, dryer, tv tables,which will be taken care of at the time of death by the granddaughters, one of whom borrowed 4k and only paid back 1500 so that's coming out of the cash settlement which was how much again auntie? can we see the statements? no, not this photocopied mess that you sent when i refused to talk to you after you asked for the dressers back a year after she died when i was going through a divorce. "when can i come get them?" she asked. pretty much never, bitch. 
i suppose she'd love to share how much she knows about this woman, her and my mother's only grand. but i really don't care. she died a scant year before my sister and three years before my mom. why did she get to live so long? again, i think it was punishment. a fete whom no one feted. and here is a column from erma bombeck, good worked overtime to create mothers. and here are my wedding pictures from 30 years ago, with grandmother(who also was awarded woman of the year in the same small town as her mother, whom, she says, taught her to give back)and grandfather standing in their front yard under the bower of roses we rented for the apparently shotgun wedding, according to the man who asked for my hand for 5 years . he tore these pictures from the albums i left when i left him. i dunno. the wedding happened. my family was there. his was not. he had none worth asking and i didn't know why.12 crazier years later i found out how badly he was abused. i can't blame him, i can't hate who he was then. i thought i loved him when we married. we had two children. here is my son as a baby, here is our daughter playing ball, here are my parents in front of the washington monument the winter they had to leave my sister in intensive care to go get the first experimental treatments on mom's stage four melanoma, here is the poster my son made to protect our water, here's the first christmas on our own, me hugging my son and daughter, we're all smiling. the roommate who left four months later took the picture. i was left holding the rent. later a boyfriend burnt my apartment kitchen to cinders. my grandmother's buffet and the 100 year old rocking chair she gave me , both victims of a grease fire. i don't know what to do with the wedding pics. the old boyfriend popped up on friends' facebook today because i went looking. here's a pic of my baby girl crawling in our first house and here is a third cousin with a friend of my daughter's, a member of our girl scout troop, who overdosed when she was only 18, home for her granddad's funeral in her first year of college. here is my mom on the lawn of FSU in her first year, before she went back home and married daddy. here is my older sister in gramma mac's sunroom 8 months later. here is the letter from her bitch sister telling me she will be taking the furniture i moved from their dead mother's home, the home she insisted i come to while she and her husband took time off from their two weeks of caretaking her terminal mother. here i am, twenty years later taking that letter and wadding it up, picking up a lighter to set the grandmother blanket she sent me this easter on fire, picking up my phone to snap a pic an post it on facebook so the bitch can see how she treated me while i was GOING THRU a DIVORCE. here is my beautiful fifteen year old mom with her homely 8 year old sister, here are me and my college friend on a canoe on the hillsboro river, yes, she's flashing you, here is my former sister in law, who only escaped her abusive husband when he, the baby of six, died second. she taught me how to make banana bread. not my great grandmother. here is the first company dinner as a single. i brought my best friends.my son at six months and again at a year. here are me and older sister, 2 and 3 sharing a present in the front yard of the yellow house where i decided one halloween that i did not like tea.
a copy of player piano with disentegrating spine. the pages need to be reset. time exists all at once in this box . i wonder if the letters from my pedophile are still in that bag?






Thursday, May 02, 2019

after all, the poetry

after all, the poetry said,
you carry me in you. you let me out in other ways
like all those reddit sotries yo're reading
incels, sjws, these are your chidren of the web.

i read a story of a woman coerced into having a baby
by 5 oeople who agreed to let her be the incubator, the surrogate
for a child the father intended to raise as his own, she was allowed
give her rights to the child up. twelve years later he contacts her
divorcing, the child wants to know of her bio-mom. this woman
had ptsd and therapy for years and wants no contact, wants to cut
contact with her parents should they have a relationship with this child.
and the comments my god what hast thou done to us, what feral virus
leaks into the world. i thot you burnt gomorrah to the ground
but fire is not as cleansing as you'd hoped. 
judgement upon judgement because this woman had sex that led
to fertilisation. perhaps plan b was unavailable, perhaps someone poked
holes in the condoms perhaps the pregnancy took
as pregnancies do.

outside a thunderstorm drifts slow.   at the  bottom of
towers of cumulo nimbus stacks
power buzzes. my friend says there are less
than fifty days left on earth because easter til
the time of ascent was fifty days.pentacost. i did not know that
perhaps she has aligned herself with sanke charmers
speaking in a tongue that says she is  second
coming. a crow lands on the lite pole cleans itself
  the wan grey sky breaks with a lightning bolt battery low
i leave for a charger, return to empty pole, flashing skies
like the old kodaks no, like the anti red eye feature
on today's modern machine. a strobe
a rumble. someone's taking a selfie. she can call them angels
if she likes. it's not all the comments i mean
the sub was am i the asshole
so she's aware her actions are discussable.
i believe the overall support says she's not an asshole. i agree. even if
she can't bring herself to write a note to the girl. i mean,
the grands can do that, explaining their role in the fiasco
the dad can do that, explaining promises he made to the surrogate,
there is no reason she has to face the consequences of sex.
because sex didn't cause this. moral judgement and selfishness did.
we have safe ways to terminate unwanted pregnancies.
everyone sux here because
everybody sux here , they began to say  one supernasty long stream of it.
because she hasn't changed her mind.
she wants no contact. let daddy and daddy's rents tell the story
hell let her rents in on it too if they want.
she's in a good place to let them all go
she was a n incubator, what does the child expect
to find in the cage that is her heart. i said that
for effect. i say that because that's what they told her
how she's cold for saying she'd go back and abort
because of the way the pregnancy, labor and delivery affected her.
maybe she's  supreme whiner with a pewdie pie fingernail
pain tolerance but rest assured she suffered. if her heart's a cage
they locked her there. she gave them what they wanted and they
  won't do the same for her.  the question becomes what
does one owe another human? not a human

you brought into this world. but a human. we are all here
by an accident of desire. if not your rents, then the ones before. it's very recent
this idea of planned parenthood. but surrogacy? old timer stuff honey.
conceptions that were at best inauspicious? let us find a home for this. mommy's
running out on their families? oh jah and da and yes and this was never
even
her
family. she was less than paid for this. she was an un witting unwilling
volunteer, but she didn't sign up for life just because she had sex and a baby.
just checkin with goodbye daddies out there, amirite?













Wednesday, April 17, 2019

pressurized vessel

there's new meds on the bed
i gotta read the side effects before i take em
that can't be my body with these problems
insurance and heart gotta be  breakin 
maybe i should should call em
and save some dollars, my long time steady
wanna raise it like roller coasting on the incline
waiting for the big drop, i gotta stop
givin em my money. last month

i suggested umbrellas because april likes her showers
and this place is full of em but they won't cover
the aflak ness of my needs,
get on the insurnance ride to save a life
that might be meh
not worth the effort, speaking species.

i mean i guess it's all in the living, and maybe my stamina will return
any way i've worked all these fifty years i think i've earned a medical reprieve.
but let's be real, i won't stop smokin, so if that's a condition let's just end this
right here. i mean the last big adventure is the one we've been sold
if i believed  , i'd love to walk those streets of gold. i've not seen
most of the world, and i can't afford to now. i wasted my youth
staying put, staying proud. no one's really come back, despite the tales.
you don't cross over and bear witness to tell. you're gone, ya know
so there's that waiting near.

i met sandy, a performer, who thought much of herself
i wish i'd ever had her confidence in this cracked shell
she lived more life than i'll ever, but i'll mourn her never
instead try to strive for the places revealed in her death
in her life, the memores a theme in the night.












***\

bleh, it's april, poetry month
i am on a sabbatical
until my health is better
because it's all i can think of.
it's my news. but you don't have
there
don't you feel better now?

Thursday, April 11, 2019

omgthe blog is baaa ack

ok, i'm about to reveal how age has crippled
me. for almost two years, i haven't written on
this platform because everything was tiny, squished
down, the very box of white space to write in
was only ten characters wide. my gmail fucked up
a little while later but it was still readable and by now
it's my official mail so i couldn't just start a new one besides
i knew i just had to find the right button
and everything would be restored. two years. my god.
it was the fuckin zoom key. display was 25%.

well in the meantime i've been hanging out at

https://ello.co/lynzepoet

a place which itself has been going thru changes a social
network for artists. wow. how social are artists? mostly these days
it's online pros and tumbler ex pats. i've been posting
there on and off and can't get no. just no.

if you visit, check out the hashtag #addictdiary

and no i haven't quit smoking yet. tho i'm down to 4 a day
from 15 in january. there's coronary blockage and aneurism
getting some lovin from my docs and honestly, it needs to STOP.
but that's forty four years baby

i was telling the honey(7 yrs, woah) that's my longest lasting adult
relationship. i can't just give that up. besides we all know
the way that monkey rides a back. i'm not that strong.

i think the docs taking care of me think something like
cut it out, cure her and she'll just be back.
hmmm, prolly. i mean, i'm only getting older.

Thursday, April 04, 2019

it's odd dancer that
you'd send a sibling poem as my remaining one has lately been all tangled panties since i called her daughter disrespectful. let's see if anyone agrees. i leave family heirloom with sis oh, fifteen years ago because my daughter was a destructive teen, and i ask her safeguard it. she keeps it in her china cab till about four years ago when her married but living her daughter asks if she can take said heirloom. sis answers well it's not mine but take it anyway, i don't know if auntie still wants it, but if she asks for it back, don't forget it's hers. fast foward tonew years day, this year.  visiting  sister,at the same time as her daughter, my niece, i mention the heirloom,  sis says oh daughter took it . daugher says i did? sis relays the convo of four years ago, my mouth hangs open, dauhter says hmmmm, ok, i don't know where it is, i'l have to look for it. my mouth could not get more tongue bitten.   six weeks later,text niece, where is it, that was disrespectful to take it without asking. she agrees, says she forgot again, busy life you know and i do, i know her life is busy, but hey, do you have it still, i  mean i think i deserve to know. a few weeks later i get a call while i'm at work. my sis begins to yell at me do not call my daughter disrespectful. it was my bad, blame me, but not her .i blame you both i tell her this. i blame you both . she will not accept this. says do not ever call my daughter disrespectfull. i tell he she don't know me well enough to say that.my mama died a long time ago and my daddy knows better. so the earth gets scorched and the next day she pretends flowers are growing . says she wrong, she sorry but in her mind they didn't mean to disrespect me. i tell her i understand that, but irl, they disrespected me. don't call me she says. i'm going to my mom's. i'll call you when i get back..  she's back. i guess she lost the number.

Monday, December 03, 2018

it's an odd interface
this blog now. if i'n in compose, it fills me in. between about 30 characters. maybe it'll
help me get back to
left justification.
it's a limiter that auto-
scrolls but i can beat
that.
i thnk, let me look.