Dirty Laundry
Monday, November 14, 2011
You air my dirty laundry
out a second story window
in the back alley of comfort
on a washing line of trust
 
You wash them white as snow
in a basin made of bleach
and fold them into scented drawers
protected and preserved
posted by @lyssa at 1:51 PM | 0 comments
On The Fence

I'm still on the fence
Frozen between
The future and the past
Failing to grasp the hand
Of a healthy decision
Of innate precision
In deciding between
The fruit of the tree
Of the knowledge of 
good 
and prison
But somehow I've chosen
To differentiate between
Live and love
Between death and blood
To pull the rug
Out from underneath the table
Plated with ancient china
And the firstfruits of Canaan
His empty hand bears nothing
No space to hold
No clay to mould
No frames to places pictures
Of future birthday parties
And backyard adventures
There will never be a
Misterandmissussoandso
So why pretend as if
I want there to be?
posted by @lyssa at 1:46 PM | 0 comments
Priceless Jewels
Priceless
Jewels
Meant to be displayed
In crowns of glory
In endless stories
Of this royal dynasty
 
Instead
Hidden
Beneath sweaters and sheets
Diamonds have been planted
In soils foreign to the king.
 
Overtaken
Undersold
Are fields to grasping hands
Hungry for annexed lands
Disregarded by the gardeners
Left in shambles of disrepair
 
Suddenly
Unfortunately
The forgotten have been trampled
Beneath the hooves and teeth
Of dirty animals with swords unsheathed
And exploited for their vulgar gain
 
Outcries
Unheard
Escape impoverished lips scarred and chapped
Bleeding ankles eaten by hidden traps
Chewing death and decay through wooden doors
Closed to the Open Hands pleading to bring relief
 
Salvation
Ignored
As it snowed that day You strained
Up the hill of the skull
As feathers from heaven were shed and mixed with the blood
Until eyes could no longer tell
Which was glory and which was mud
 
And yet
Even still
Golden hands and silver trowels dig through dirt and sand
Sifting and sieving every stone, stem, and plan
Pulling gems and pearls from the depths of the underworld
Released by the Key borne the fingerprints of heaven
posted by @lyssa at 1:44 PM | 0 comments
Potluck Dinners
its just about that time
to have everything
figured out
newspapers keep printing
celebrations keep appearing
yet behind dusty curtains and yellowed pages
underneath couch cushions and unmatched shoe laces
are hidden secrets beyond revealing
impossible to share
between the silences of smiles
and the photos of the engaged.
will it never come?

potluck dinners
comprised of mashed potatoes
and pasta salads
red drink
and grandpa’s bar friends
always leave me discontented
disconnected
from the joie de vivre
the blissful chattiness
of happyfull lives
of husbands and wives
and their eighteen children
spilling juice on the floor

if i could be honest
thats all i long for

to set in my heart
tombstones of dreams
doubtfully buried
beneath wisdom and seams
sewn up in doubt and derision
is only self-deprecation
but more like protection
from disappointment and insecurity

such loose words
such meaningless definitions
unrefined by f-words
we drop through ceilings
behind the backs of the panicked
who cant believe that all that is theirs
wont one day be mine

how long have i pined
for an evergreen to grow in my garden
to plant itself firmly between my feet
and blossom its prickly branches
in the palm of my hand
grasping my fingers
to never leave
and never fade
and talk to the husbands
of my married friends
and smile at me
while i clean juice off
the floor

what am i missing
that i dont know?
how will i know
what i’m missing?
one day i will miss
knowing what i know
yet knowing that now
doesnt make me miss
what i dont know
any less
posted by @lyssa at 1:39 PM | 0 comments
Airplanes
its not like
Thanksgiving on a silver platter
everyone is there
and everyone knows
and understands its about
the food

its not like
a bundle of balloons
breathed into by airplanes
dragging you across the sky
and all you know
is that you dont care everyone can see your
underwear

its not like
a forest growing in the shade of evergreens
ferns and flowers and fantasy green
everything thriving with singing life
ecstasy on every brimming beam
dripping with heaven

its not like
sharing candy cigarettes
when youre five
and all you want to do is be cool
like everyone else
who have no idea what they’re doing

its not like
love
ever lives
up to expectation
posted by @lyssa at 1:37 PM | 0 comments