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Bout to head into the third of my nine lives

All I get unless they figure out how to extend life or stop time

Life One under Mama and Daddy’s watchful, um, Thumb,

I was Sissy and Cassy and Baby-Cakes

I was Pentacostal Christian Saved

Spelling Bee Champ Nerd, a Teacher’s Pet

And Stephanie’s Best Friend

Life Two the Terrible Teens

A Skater and a Nerd and A Dork first

But then I was Raymond’s Girl

A Sinner and a Saint depending on the day

CASSARDA when I couldn’t get my way

Now my twenties:

I have been Lower Class and Working Class too

Trailer Trash and White Trash too

Both the Petitioner and the Defendant at times

An ex-girlfriend and an ex-wife

An American Arizonan, Liberal, Leftist, Democratic, Pacifist

Agnostic first, but also a Cynic and a Pragmatist

A Single Mom and a Prodigal Daughter

A Friend with Benefits, an Adultress

A Puppet and a Slave: I’ve been a Princess and a Queen

A Sister and a BFF and an Enemy

A Lover and a Fighter, always a Writer

I’m an Academic and a College Grad

A Blue Collar Construction Worker Tradesman

I have been somebody’s Baby and somebody’s Lady

(But not lately)

Peeling off all these layers of labels

And gathering the ones I swept under the rug and the table

I am glad to have loved and lived and become

Every single one of them

Bored

I didn’t want to say this but I’m getting bored

You use less of our language more and more

More and more you repeat yourself

And your subjects couldn’t fill a corner of my shelf

It’s all about you and nothing else

We never swim to the deep end; it never fails

What we have here is a failure to communicate

Because we don’t share affinity a scientologist would say

Because we’re unequally yoked, a Christian might speculate

Opposite might attract but unlike a magnet, they pull away

It’s a waste to keep my knowledge bottled up inside

And attempt to relate without a meeting of the minds

I didn’t want to say this but I’m no longer impressed

And I’ve contributed about all I’m liable to invest

When I speak you don’t listen; You just wait for a turn

To rattle on with the same things I already heard

Your opinions are shallow because your knowledge is brief

And our conversations falter because your interest is weak

The world takes all kinds and we’re not two of the same

And to be lonely together is the end of the game

To me you are our a work day I never got home from

A boy lost in superficiality that really needs his mum

He is sitcoms and bars and played out country songs

For the little bit of action he’s a whole lot of talk

I didn’t want to say this but it’s time for me to walk…

Being

I  have  tried  to  be  a  lot  of  things.

When  I  was  young  I  wanted  to  be

Different  From  Everyone  Else.

Later  I  longed  to  be  more  the  same,  the  sane.

I  don’t  want  to  be  pieces  of  others,  anymore!

I  just  want  to  know  what  they  know

 

So  I  can  feel  what  I  feel.

My  Passions  are  mine  alone—Burdens  to  carry

Weights  like  Responsibility  and  Work

Handicaps  like  Impatience  and  Anger

Crutches  like  God  and  Marijuana

I  am  innocently  ignorant  but  in  awe  of  It  All

Surviving,  Conditioned.

Yes,  I  would  Live  off  the  Land

And  never  miss  the  Sun’s  rising  or  setting

And  love  the  spaces  between  the  cities Until  they  are  no  more.

PLAYED

How come they all sing so sweet

About being trampled under a lover’s feet

That topic should be spit and screamed

Dust be flying when you leave

Outcome of this game you played

Game of our life-I believed in one day

Now spittin, scoffin, lost the faith

I’m  BACKSLIDDEN,  that  word  written,  DONE  WITH  IT

I’m  a  cynic,  ran  my  tongue  with  words  like  love  and  bit  it

Shoved  in  dirt,  I  brushed  off,  the  first  to  say  FUCK  OFF

And  I  should’ve  said  it  all  along,  all  along

Instead  of  getting  stupid  over  sweet  kisses  and  love  songs

Dead  romance,  hopeless  romantics  try to  prolong

Choose  to  cheat  and  lie  instead  of  saying  goodbye

There  was  a  time  when  I  stayed  for  the  fight

Now  I’m  not  even  down to  stay  the  night

Packed  my  bags  and  took  flight

Learned  a  lesson  or  two  to  remember  for  life

And  now  these  lines  I  write

Are  for  the  slaves  of  a  pretty  idea

That  if  you’re  in  love  it can  all  be  fixed--BULLSHIT

Maybe if I were a lot more slim, little more ignorant

Didn’t carry around notebooks and pen

Cared a lot more about how I look

Yeah if I could sew and sing and cook

Screamed all the time “this is so much fun!” and

Never disagreed with you so we wouldn’t have those run ins

About how I’m such a pessimist and a bleeding heart

Preferring conversation than brawls at the bar

Yeah I almost wrote you a letter on this page

But what the fuck would I say

You gave me closure when you needed it

You’d probably shrug and laugh and let that bitch read it.

Thought our love was over-qualified for the game

But in the end you’re the last player

And I am the played

Depositum Fidei (Faith of the Apostles)

In  their  house

Fingers  fumble on

Plastic  purple 

Rosary  beads

And  on  the 

Kitchen  wall

And  in  the  hall

Jesus  bleeds

As  a  child  I  struggled

To  tie  the  blindfold

Over  my  own  eyes

To  see  Him 

More  clearly

What  an 

Empty  child

To  take  the  weight

Of  that  hammer

In  my  hands

Nature  and  purpose

Defined

Comfort  rendered

Now  my  faith 

Lies  alone

In  the  stories

He  told

And  I  think  He

Never  wished

To  become  more 

Than  his  words.

TRIBUTE TO ORWELL’S 1984

DON’T LET YOURSELF SMIRK—DON’T BLINK

WASH YOUR HANDS IN THE KITCHEN SINK

SO THEY DON’T SEE THE INK

WHILE SPYING ON YOU FROM THE TELESCREEN

TOSS YOUR MIND INTO THE MEMORY HOLE

OH SO MUCH EASIER TO GO WITH THE FLOW

TWO AND TWO MAKE FIVE AND IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

DON’T LET THEM KNOW WHAT MAKES YOU AFRAID

SCREAM OUT YOUR LUNGS IN THE TWO MINUTES HATE

PASTE UP THE POSTERS FOR SOME PRE-WAR PATRIOTISM

DON’T KNOW WHO WE’RE FIGHTING OR WHY WE’RE HATING THEM

THE PROGRAMMED POPULATION OF MIDDLE CLASS ON BOTH SIDES

WON’T THROW DOWN THEIR ARMS AND REFUSE TO FIGHT

SLAVES TO A LIE

AND IT ONLY TAKES ONE BIN TO LIGHT

THE BOMB THAT WAGES AND WINS A WAR IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE

AND ONLY ONE PEN TO RE-WRITE HISTORY

SO LET’S STRIP BARE OUR VOCABULARY

LIKE THE LATEST EDITION OF THE N.I.V.

LANGUAGE ISN’T FOR DESCRIPTION OR POETRY

NO ONE CARES ANYMORE- NO ONE READS

IT IS DOUBLE-PLUS-GOOD NOT TO GIVE A FUCK

JUST LIKE RELIGION- YOU’VE JUST GOT TO TRUST

JOIN THE PARTY- IT’S SO MUCH FUN

IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH MONEY YOU CAN BE SOMEONE

JUST STAY DUMB ENOUGH TO DETER THE THOUGHT POLICE

JUSTIFY YOUR DOUBTS BY DOUBLETHINK

STAY CALM NOW- DON’T GET IRATE

TIL YOU SCREAM OUT YOUR LUNGS IN THE TWO MINUTES HATE

HATE WHO? HATE COMMIES OR RADICALS OR WOMEN OR JEWS?

ANYONE THAT’S NOT RICH OR POSES A THREAT TO YOU?

WHAT? HATE THEM TOO? JUST TELL ME WHO! I BELIEVE YOU!

AND YOU DO, YOU DO, WITH BIG BROTHER WATCHING YOU.

Economic 2009

 

I  used  to drive a Silverado and pay T-Mobile with  cash-back

Now  I  cruise  Valley  Metro, talk on a Trac-Phone and pay with food-stamps

From  elated  to  deflated  just  waitin’  to  bounce   back

For  a  new  New  Deal  before  I  start  tearin’  down  flags

Or  am  I jumpin’  on  the  excuse  to  throw  up  my hands

That  aren’t  really  tied,  and  I  just  wanna  relax

Twenty-six  isn’t  shit  but  I’m  wantin’  to  retire

At least  to  a  good  ole  nine-to-fiver

Wanna be  inspired,  not  just  fucking  tired

All  just  to  get  laid  off,  fucked  off,  fired

Sick  of  sweating  and  bleeding  and  getting  burned

Then  burning  what  I  earned  and  shelving  what  I’ve  learned

Me and my first grader gotta survive  this  economy

Where’d  the  time  and  money  go  on  my  odyssey

I  never  rested  but  I  never  invested

But  there  is  hope,  did  you  get  the  text  message

They’re  handing  out  plastic  cards  again

So  we  can  dig  deeper  while  bargainin’

 

Sam’s  Choice,  Made  in  China  so  we  can  Live  Better

Pile  our  debts  in  the  paper-shedder

Cut  the  tape  on  the  Real  Estate

Stand  in  line  with  your  paper  plate

Homes are vacant, parks are full

Homeless hide in the night, follow the rules

Call  me  a  Communist,  but  don’t  make  it  sound  so  ominous

Mama  said  share  and  share  alike,  I  say   promises,  promises

Portrait of the Artist at 25

 

The  color  of  my  collar  is  the  Working  Class

Financial  survival  off  the  sweat  from  our  backs

This  construction  trade  just  fell  in  my  lap

I  bit  the  sweet  treat  and  succumbed  to  the  trap

This  addiction  to  the  money,  this  love  of  the  road

This  pride  in  being  the  only  girl  I  know  who  knows

The thrill of climbing up the iron  in  steel  toes

I  start  feeling  naked  without  my  hard-hat

Some  days  I  work  so  long  and  hard  that

I  come  home  with  no  patience  so

When  she  whines  I  yell  back

She  wants  to  play  but  I’m  ready  to  crash  out

“Mommy’s  tired,  Baby,  but  at  least  Mommy’s  around”

Nighttime  sometimes  I  wake  up  and  stare  at  her

Wondering  if  this  is  all  fair  to  her

Living  so  busy  each  moment,  switching  schools  and  hotels

But  it’s  McDonalds  or  college  if  this  shit  fails

This  capitalistic  contribution  to  America

Really  furthest  from  the  intentions  of  we  who  construct

Maybe  we  just  never  grew  out  of  playing  with  Lego’s

Just  supporting  our  own  however  we’re  able

Dreaming  in  fables,  of  a  day  we’ve  got  more  than  just 

                                                        Food  on  the  table

Shit,  I  can’t  afford  to  fix  my  bones  and  teeth

Thanks  to  the  gluttony  of  the  monopoly

And  I  gross  more  than  the  average  American  so  I  shouldn’t  complain

But  I  look  at  my  tax  deduction  and  I  feel  fucking  raped

That  didn’t  go  to  getting  this  road  I  wander  paved

Doesn’t  get  my  childcare  paid

Taxes  for  blood  for  oil,  the  American  way

But  I  just  try  to  get  by,  telling  myself  “Of course  you  can”

Not  eating  out  of  a  garbage  can,  not  being  supported  by  a  man

I  just  wish  I  could  avoid  the  way  of  this  country

I  just  wish  that  I  didn’t  need  their  money

If  I  only  had  free  time,  I’d  do  great  things  with  it

If  only  I  didn’t  have  to work  so  much  in  this  life,  I  could  live  it

I  know,  I  know,  I  sound  pessimistic

I  know  nobody  owes  me  shit

But  it’s  hard  to  be  a  single  mom  and  work  so  much

I  got  a  couple  girlfriends  who  just  want  to  give  up

They  call  me  crying  about  the  bills  they  can’t  pay

I  tell  them   “Wipe  your  eyes,  ‘cause  life  is  great

Your  baby’s  love  is  one  thing  life  can  never  take  away”

So  I  take  my  own  advice  at  the  end  of  a  hard  day

Take  a  deep  breath,  sit  with  my  daughter  and  play

This  time  is  now,  all  we’ve  got  is  this  minute

Stop  whining,  stop  worrying,  and  live  it

So  easy  to  say,  so  easy  to  write,  to  rhyme

But  I’m  in  the  habit  of  living  like  I’ve  got  no  time

For  a  while  I  got  too  wild  and  she  slipped  from  my  arms,

                                                        My  precious  child

And  oh  the  hoops I  jumped  through, and  oh  the  papers  I  filed

Now  I’m  pretty  quiet,  sit  on  the  sidelines

Sometimes  I’m  scared  to  talk  to  people,  just  like  my  four-year-old

Who  does  as  I  do  and  not  as  she’s  told

And  I  never  tell  her  I’m  a  perfect  example

And  I  know I  never  grew  out  of  my  temper  tantrums

Talking  to  people  I’m  still  stuttering  “but”  and  “um”

I’ve  never  grown  up  but  I’ve  learned  to  own  up

To  the  mistakes  I’ve  made  and  to  put  them  behind  me

But  I  will  always  have  their  scars  to  remind  me

I  think  they  are  telling  me  to  stay  busy,  don’t  go  crazy

In  my  little  spare  time  I’m  self-educating

My  spiritual  beliefs  turned  upside-down  a  year  ago

My  security  blanket  got  a  hole

That  ripped  into  a  new  exploration  of  my  mind

Maybe that’s  why  I  always  get  so  quiet

It’s  never  the  same  when  you  talk  about  it

I  lose  my  words  and replace  a  lot  with  “…and  shit…”

But  I  can  go  absolutely  forever  with  a  pen

Until  this  notebook  runs  out  of  paper

And  I  have  to  add  some  more  with  a  stapler

Scribble  down  more  lines  in  the  margins  later

I’m  teaching  my  daughter  how  to  write  now

I  wonder  if  she’ll  love  it  like  I  do

She’s  always  scribbling  and  making  up  stories  and  songs

And  saying  that  she  writes,  too

But  I’ll  be  so  proud  no  matter  what  she  decides  to  do

And  I  plan  to  be  the  kind  of  mom  who  will  introduce

Her  to  all  kinds  of  options,  arts,  philosophies

Nourish  her  growing  intellectual  needs

She  won’t  grow  up  so  ignorant  like  me

Fall  for  loser  idiots  like  me,  give  up  on  school  and  quit  like  me

Maybe  it’s  a  fantasy,  that  she  will  learn  from  my  mistakes

But  I’ll  watch  for  the  warning  signs  and  I  might  not  be  too  late

One  thing  I  know  is  I  will  never  push  her  away

Always  be  there  with  clean  sheets  for  the  beds  that  she  makes

To  say:  “I  love  you,  Haley,  you’re  my  life

You  and  I  will  do  just  fine,  always  do  better  than  just  survive 

sticking  together,  using  our  minds

I  lost  you  once  and  how  I  cried,  for  your  return,  my  precious  child

And  until  I  won,  I  fought  and  I  fought  that  fight

Now  here  we  are  together,  and  everything  is  right”

She’s  got  a  daddy  somewhere  that  never  really  tries

Lives  in  fantasies,  on  drugs,  and  in  lies

I  replaced  him  once  with  not  a  helluvah  guy

Just  a  step  up  for  a  guy

Whose  initial  chivalry  was  a  clever  disguise

I  got  his  name  in  ink  and  I  had  my  head  up  his  ass

She  says, “Mommy,  if  he  says  he’s  sorry  will  we  go  back?”

I  tell  her  “sorry”  is  just  a  word  and  we  don’t  need  a  man

Don’t  need  Spokane,  we’re  Arizonans

Yeah,  here  in  A.Z.  I  got  my  broken  family

My  big  brother  is  my  closest  branch  of  our  tree

But  very  recently  my  parents  excluded  me

It’s  hard  not  to  be  bitter,  even  harder  to  trust

Makes  me  question  the  concept  of  motherly  love

How  quick  she  replaced  me  with  my  child  and  gave  me  up

Took  my  child  and  tore  me  up  in  front  of  a  judge

While  my  daddy  stood  back  with  his  palms  up

Now  I’ll  shut  up---It’s  over  and  done

Now  I  don’t  have  to  answer  to  anyone

It’s  hard  doing  my  own  thing,  I  barely  know  how

For  sure  it’s  an  adventure,  and  I’ve  got  my  fears  and  doubts

But  this  time  is  now,  all  we’ve  got  is  this  minute

I  close  this  book  now,  that  I  may  go  live  it.