I really like the idea of stealing stuff from God, I guess and this next poem explains it. It was written too, early last December.
Shiny Things
My pet crow insists
He likes shiny things and steals
From the neighborhood.
He places each with care
In the space I let him have
And I have to lie
To all the irate
Neighbors who are sure it's him.
I would be angry
But I will steal stuff from God
Any time I can.
Shiny things, just like him.
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Here's one of those old Haiku style poems that I started with this go round, also written in early December. This could be allegorical too. I don't necessarily mean I am that ugly. Or maybe it means I am actually an alien on the planet, abandoned to my fate, ditched by my so called friends, who promised to pick me up but never returned. I really related to ET. I've been trying to phone home for a long time. So maybe I mean that, that you would know if you saw me naked. Maybe I'm an actual angel on a mission from God and you would know if you saw me... So try not to decide what was in one of my several heads. I really related to Men In Black also :)
Wrong Place, Wrong Time
What a freakin charge!
You saw me walk in naked,
Now look at your hair!
There's good reason to wear clothes
At least for the likes of me.
Gotta get you combed
Unsnarl the tangles and knots,
Say you were not here.
Contraction
1 week ago
I knew it!
ReplyDeleteKnew what, my dear? That I'm a thief? That I keep a pet crow? That I'm an angel? Or an alien? That I have several heads? That seeing me naked messes up your hairdo? That I have one of those MIB thingies that Will Smith coveted? There are far too many possible things you already knew. All to say I have no freakin idea what you mean :)
ReplyDeletewrong place wrong time- gorgeous xxx
ReplyDeletebtw- no one ever knows what Michelle means xx
ReplyDeletelove the crows and the shiny things
ReplyDeleteI always think of being given things by God, but in a way, I'm a thief on a cross, if you know what I mean, hoping to steal redemption.
ReplyDeleteWrong Place, Wrong Time - Love the image that the sight knots up the hair.
I know....I was messing with your head.
ReplyDeleteBut seriously....the other night when I was reading one of your poems I thought 'maybe this guy is an angel'.......
My hair do is always messy :)
Just ask Lisa.
I loved both of these. At the end of summer when the birds leave to fly south I love to see what they made theri nests of, and sure enough you do find some crazy things.
ReplyDeleteI can relate to the second one way too much. LOL!
Lisa, Michelle, you have given me a good laugh this rainy morning in Gladstone. Says it will rain all week. It seems, L and M, that you know each other, that's the sense I got.
ReplyDeleteLirio, thanks for your comment.
Karen, yes, indeed, I know what you mean. For me the personal myth goes a little different, that I insisted in coming down here, bent on proving that a correction to the plan is needed, because it costs us all too much. Or to put it in your words, WHY should there EVER be a thief on the cross? And me bent on proving otherwise. An anger and a despair, because that is the only position I can take to make such an argument credible.
And how it reads to me, in this fundamental Christian argument, it is no longer necessary because it has already been done. Yet it still goes on. Nothing has changed. It is world wide, and worse, because there are innocents crucified as well, many. Perhaps even most.
I am Witness. And I am permitted. This is by agreement, though I pushed it. I am a guest, not here by any sort of right but by permission. Much of the time I feel differently, for there is a constellation of positions my heart takes. Sometimes I feel I was abandoned here. Sometimes I don't feel human, and that position for more than one universe of reasons. Sometimes I don't feel up to the work of it, just want to be left alone. Sometimes I am too angry to think straight. But sometimes I am definitely on my game.
Witnessing is active but not evangelical, not even a little.
Sao, I like it you can relate. I had a house finch family in an old Christmas wreath I didn't take down. They raised three, two males and a female. The parents never trusted my food tray right next to the nest, not that I ever saw. But the kids never knew different. They brought their families back to feed. Six. Then the goldfinches followed on. Now I have a messy place under my eave and many feathered ones, chiefly the finches. Recently a squirrel has decided to risk the ground beneath. Squirrels can't get to the feeder.
Teehee!
ReplyDelete