Thaddeus J. Everly (1979-2004)

He needed a place to crash,
after too many shots of Ice 101
he said he'd be gone in a few hours,
and I believed him

He said he was Brazilian,
and he'd just gotten out of jail,
as he showed me the pictures
I believed him

He had a funky way of cooking,
and a quirky, hyperactive style
But he filled my days with laughter
and I believed him all the while

He told me I was raised right,
my innocence still intact,
that I was the intimate child,
so I believed him

He picked me up from work each day
for two weeks in a car without heat,
be he was always sweet,
and I believed him

He said she was an old friend of his,
with his arms wrapped around her waist,
he had called her on her cell phone
and I believed him, just in case

One day we went up north,
to pick his old friend up from prison,
frozen in a car with no heat and all blankets
and I believed him

We stopped at some house in Hardwick,
trying to procure gas money,
when they said it'd take half an hour,
and I believed him

That jail-bird violated parole,
and fell in love with my friend Liz,
but he wrote me two letters of optimism,
and I believed him

I still don't own a cell phone today
for a text message three months too late
when he said that everything was alright,
and foolishly believed him.

Queer Fantasies

And I woke up
as my mind was still poking around
the 18-holes of green
searching for my hands,
whom disappeared like the Cheshire Cat
when suddenly Bugs Bunny appeared
under the shade of an elm,
reading a newspaper,
and whistling
Waiting for Elmer Fudd's obnoxious creeping
before dressing up as Lola
to ask him for a drink.
"Ehh, what a lovely shotgun you have, Grandpa,"
Lola had said in her falsetto voice,
stroking the barrel with a white glove.
Elmer Fudd blushed and sputtered,
and finally, with a miraculous grin,
whispered into her gray furry ear,
"the bettah to shoot you with, pwetty wabbit!"

Every 28 Days

Barbed wire cinches around my ovaries

and no energy for anything

I'm sad and scared,

the tears welling up inside

before someone enters the room

I'm quick to snap curt remarks

Suddenly I'm sexy and organized

before my pants drop two sizes

Walking around with cotton in my vagina

or a sticky pad in my underwear

feeling the clotted blood slide between my lips

as I walk to the nearest toilet

No, I don't want to go camping

or swimming right now

I need something for gassy balloons of pain in my abdomen

and to make five days go by.

In Full Bloom

I hold the crumpled words under my tongue

as the rain patters on my window outside

I pay it no mind

caught up in this twenty-something disease

and redefining my sense of self

keeps the time occupied

All this responsibility and obligation,

to sign my life on the dotted line

for the doctors and the collectors

still light-headed from the fall

and tingling with erotic anticipation

of writing under a darker name

freedom from moral institution

that may have shunned this blossoming child.

Goddess Incarnate

I am Isis,

the goddess of ten thousand names

I, who collected the pieces of my brother and husband

Osiris,

I listen to your prayers with a mother's heart

and bring closure to metamorphosis

and holding the baby Horus,

grant you fertile blessing of the earth.

Spirit Walk

Burn, incense, burn

and cleanse this ragged soul

with depths unprecedented

on ancient Rosetta Stone

The yellow smog from my aura

condenses on my skin

Listen to the steady drum of my heart,

while deep breaths open the door

to within

Find solace in acceptance

the mind tends to wander

my crystallized sphere of energy

makes me cover my eyes

There are no deeds to be measured

on the path to reincarnation

only lessons learned

and the people we influence

when I stand before the Grand Council

of the Universal Mind.

Killing the Creature

I close my eyes
to listen to the grass growing
and the leaves' joyful laughing
after the cool rain stops
and I notice the twisting cloud of smoke
before it enters my lungs
the smoke rings
drifting in front of me with ease
I lick the drops of salty sweat
collecting on my upper lip
and push a curly lock out of my face
before writing this poem
with spiraled hands
and the sun's glare on my mind.
The blue space is clogged
with ashes from another time
but I keep dragging on the stink of swamp
killing Frankenstein's monster
to resurrect some semblance
of real life on a stormy night.

The Coming of the Sun

Only the moon knows her dreams

While the sun tries to sleep

Waking in sweaty torment

from the nightmares and the shakes

craving the chemical toxins

that claim the years unspent

And his fingers burn her flesh

with yellow nicotene stains

and cold-hearted desire

the tender, fading bruises

are enflamed as her cresting tide breaks

and she's slowly reeled back into reality

as the salty ocean drips down her thighs

stepping back from the sun's chaotic flame

the moon returns to her silvery prophetic dance of life.

Woman's Grief

Quiet, rainy days

and I'm ready to scream

scratching at the walls of my universe

aching for something different

the familiarity of wet pavement

under my bare feet in the afternoon

and the sing-song teasing of the wind

are all meaningless; all too often

Maybe I should have died in March

to ease the monotony of unreal pain

My life is remembered for

waiting on fantasies that never come true.

Do these responsibilities make me a woman?

These physical components, these mood cycles?

Is it the gentle caress of compassion,

or the tears shed for my corrupted innocence?

Who here will take the blame for my cracked existence?

"The reality of my life..."

The reality of my life

is veiled over by tired, exhausted eyes

As I'm sitting here plastered in a shitty blue chair

barely awake enough to do my mind-numbing job

or watch the seconds tick by on my phone

tick, tick, tick

I can't believe our paths have parted

but I know it means some truth

is at my fingertips

The sacrifices made for knowledge unearthed

so many words spill over needlessly

only to be greeted by a chill-evoking silence

and the earth is shaky and unbalanced under my feet,

but I still find the strength to stand

for my five-minute break

craving compassion and human contact

to keep me alive in this place.

An Ode to Living Poetry

I get the picture

there's one big thing missing

But after all,

whom here isn't a work in progress?

I read your poems,

the words rumbling and tumbling

in that compassionate voice

stuck in my head

I was consumed in your fire

and the insanity of a life felt wasted.

I found your sensual beauty,

says the nameless girl lying in the bed,

But I refuse to be another coincidence

because I swallowed the things you gave me

and now my time is ripe

for fucking --- womanhood,

or did I mention my guardian divinity smokes cigarrettes?

Fallen so far from humanity

the soul contorts into a monster

the scars carved and chosen for the flesh

We dance the tango of mortality

and then weep on Eternity's breast.

So welcome to my late-night psychic rhythms,

where the neon signs are pulsing

and the pussy's always wet -

so fuck this human decency

and let some words bounce in my head

Like the noisy humming of my headset

or the wheezing sounds of phlegm.

Today I cried when I absorbed your words

melting sympathy into innocence

as I look for those golden rings around my eyes

trying not to think about

the self-loathing destruction

evident from the previous night.

So play your casual tension

the romanced bodhisattva knight

because nothing's more true than

those placid green eyes and a bearded grin and smile.

Youthful Morning

I feel the earth move

The Strength and the Passion

of two people dancing;

moving their bodies to the rhythm

of a peaking ecstasy

Feel the tingle of scent and skin,

the blushing gasp of an intoxicating thing

as it moves within and above us,

expending lustful energy on a divine youthful morning.

Post-Psych Ward Poetry

I.

Each passing minute

is another spent without you

This confusion rings like static

across the distance between us

Awkward silence and emotion

I lay awake burning for you

These tears taste salty and real

The plastic bags of moving

surround my floor

My life is all in vain

I'm seduced by your sweet darkness

and I'm waiting for you in the shadows

watching your guiding star

as you weep in silence; seemingly alone

Don't be afraid of what's bound to happen

And I'm sorry I'm stuck this way

But know everything is beautiful and perfect

when the reality of my life is fading away

II.

My heart reaches out to you from across the distance -

I cling to the phone, but you do not answer

I swear I see death everywhere I turn

Everything is wrong, and yet,

perfect in it's eternity

I feel the urge to die, and cling to your need

a little tighter

My life is lost; worthless

I want to be washed looking in your eyes

I refuse to accept the lie in front of me

Can I change it? Can I learn to be happy?

I need your help, I feel so alone again

Hey! Don't you hear my cries of desperation from deep within?

I want to be able to feel your love.

I want to feel goodness; instead of the black tar

of shame and doubt.

Help me out of this mental cage.

III.

Bruised and broken am I;

Purple fades to yellow

the stinging pain reaches deep

I grit my teeth in anticipation

but disappointment falls upon me

like heavy rain

Tears streak down my cheeks

Nothing compares to the pain within

And somehow I like the punishment

as the blood drips from calloused skin

Twisted power coming through this marionette

If you knew the hardships I've faced,

Understand that I am gifted,

a child of the Divine must be tested,

and proven true.

IV.

The battle rages within;

an eternal struggle of light and dark -

I keep the demon at bay;

feeding it self-destruction and pain

My halo is held up by horns

and I pick at the scabs just to feel again

this numbness goes on forever

as I reach out for help from another soul

Carry me away from here Grim Reaper -

Cross the fantasy realm of your wild imagination

Are you dreaming, or traveling?

I look within for your secrets,

and search deeper for my own answers.

My heart clings to yours,

the static heat of passion

rubbing warmth back into my self.

V.

Dirty flesh, dirty mind

My hair slicked back with grime

Sunken, sad eyes

sickened by the twists of Fate