April 30 - Jesus Is Coming

Homeless man

bearded and dirty

wandering the streets

eyes rolling in that

wild horse kinda way

singing chanting praying

it’s all God’s visions

that he sees brought

to him on angel’s wings

so profound his belief

that anger wells within

that the masses cannot

see nor hear the gift

he shares from on high

louder he shouts of salvation

urgently he warns of demons

arms waving wildly

skinny black crow wings

making punctuation marks

at the people passing by

most shake their heads

hoping that he gets help

back on his medication

somehow someway someday

crazy old man always talking

‘bout Jesus coming back

they need to lock him up

While every Sunday morning

in the pulpits of churches

stand the ordained the blessed

men and women of God

who bring the same message

of demons, salvation and

the joyous return of Jesus

some preach sweetly

while others pound away

at the sinners in their midst

the church sings and sways

and all the people say amen

dropping dollars in the plate

full of their self-proclaimed

piety and respectability

some build churches like

impregnable fortresses

self-contained communes of

Jesus Loves You

bookstore gym coffee shop

restroom’s with fancy soap

and heavenly soft two-ply

keeping the world at bay

until heaven’s gate is nigh

locked up tight every night

to keep out homeless preachers

left to lie upon their concrete beds

April 29 - Runner

She ran in 1967

where she was

not supposed to run

on an April day

in Boston

down a  frozen road

in sleet and rain

Number 261

She ran

to the salute

of men spewing

obscenities

their middle fingers

aloft in the air

this was their race

After all

women who run

get big legs

hair on their chests

grow mustaches

and their uterus’ fall out

but despite such

obvious risks

to her feminine health

She ran

past the official

who tried to drag

her from the course

who tried to

take her number

ripping and pawing

at her bib

Still…on she ran

26 miles

all the way to the end

straight into history

K.V. Switzer ran

April 28 - When I Was Thirteen

The screaming

that’s the worst part

that and the Thorazine Shuffle

stagger stagger

drool drool

nodding like

you got them

junkie blues

but it’s always

full circle back

to the screaming

their royal majesties

holding high court

as the madness roils

through tender brains

until the only

voice that is left

is to scream

some just stand

and scream

some run and scream

some swing fists

and scream

some do all three

Every. Single. Day.

I am terrified…Every. Single. Day.

April 27 - I Wish I May I Wish I Might

Dreams

did you have them

surely you did

star light star bright

Wishes

did you conjure

spells to fulfill them

I wish I may I wish I might

Hope

did you keep refilling

the leaky cup

that bled your heart

as your life was

molded and shaped

by hands not your own

Did you dream your

mother alive again

did you wish to be

exactly who you

wanted to be

did you hope against hope

to be the Captain of your fate

did you dream of us

all the children that came

did you ever think

it would all go this way

April 26 - Due East

East is somewhere

of this I’m sure

the four directions

forehead on bat

drunk dizzy spin

find me point me

round and round

here we go

here we go

hands up in the air

like I just don’t care

‘til I can spin no more

stagger stepping

off into the sunset

seeking the face

of the glorious sun

April 25 - I Remember

The prompt was about remembering


I Remember 

the first time that my door creaked open in the still of night
the way he slid into my bed covers shushing my alarm
the fear that tripled the jackhammer beat of my heart
wild rabbit scared squirming to escape the pen of his arms

I Remember
The quietly roaring screaming whispers of his threats
I will kill your brothers kill them all dead if you tell
I will kill you rip out your heart and feed it to your mother
before I eat her heart and kill her as dead as you

I Remember
The daytime it was as though nothing had happened
as if the blood on my sheets a stigmata appeared
extra comics special treats new clothes trips to the store
payments for what was done to me in the dark of night

I Remember
The shame, the fear, the loneliness, the hurt, the rage
swallowing my guilt like milk and cookies before bed
chair at the door tightly wrapped little mummy in my quilt
unanswered prayers teach me that God’s deaf and blind

I Remember
Learning to sleep in boots jeans razor edged knife
reaching under my pillow for the second knife hidden
the last time that he came for me my armor he found
though he tried to reach through my blade did he find

I Remember
That no words were exchanged the blade at his throat
the agreement silently made that I would not kill him
slowly upright he sat on the side of my bed and wept
for what I couldn’t tell the loss of his toy or death’s proximity

I Remember
The firestorm of madness ignited by those evening visits
as the fuel of grief stricken insanity burnt me to the ground
swimming to the bottom of 90 proof bottles only to drown
punching veins, nostrils and lungs just please take me higher

I Remember
The next man touched me after him asked did I mind
blade in hand fury beyond words I assured him I did
the times after that men’s hands caught me unawares
as a dyke raped again to keep me in my woman's place

I Remember
All of the raping touching grabbing pinching and leering
the nasty suggestions that they’d love to make real
tried a lot of places at a friend’s or on the street or at work
a constant fight to keep prying evil hands and dicks away

I Remember
Not a one of these things happened in a public bathroom
not a one of these things happened in a public bathroom
not a one of these things happened in a public bathroom
not a one of these things happened in a public bathroom

I Remember…

April 24 - The Killing Days

The prompt is to write a poem as a story that's told backwards from last to beginning. This piece also incorporates the poem written in long lines prompt

Yeah, they executed Lonnie Dixon, he was only 17, but they let his daddy go

Boy selling postcards for fifteen cents, of the charred body, used to be John

Carter

His corpse still hung on display, when the Arkansas Guard came to do what the Sheriff would not

Found a man standing in the intersection, 9th and Broadway, directing traffic with the burnt to a crisp, remains of John Carter's arm

Came pouring into the Black side of town, bent on ripping up property, for a dark meat barbecue, piling up church pews, doors, tables and chairs

5,000 strong these good Christian white folk gathered, men and women, many with their children

'Cause dragging his body behind a bumper in a 50 car parade had only fired up the flames of their lust 

They pumped 200 rounds of ammunition into his dead body because everybody knew that the only "good nigger was a dead nigger"

But first they'd stood him on the hood and drove away with his life as the rope snapped his neck

Poor John Carter said not to be quite right in the head

Caught by the mob, blood in their eyes, hell bent on avenging the virtue of two white women said he'd done messed with them

Few days before this murderous rage, two thousand, too many, white men stormed the jail

With a vengeance burning, where their hearts once beat, only to find their quarry long gone

Police said they had his mama, made him stand 24 hours, no food, no water, no sleep as they pried out his mouth, their oral admission of guilt

No lawyers, no rights, no written statement, just their claim he said he'd done it

They stated that the son Lonnie confessed to the crime

At first everyone thought two Black men, the Dixon's, father and son, had done killed that little white girl, some said raped her too

A girl found dead, up in the belfry of the First Presbyterian over in Little Rock

Floella McDonald, little twelve year old white girl gone missing, town speculates that a negro must a took her