Smoke Signals

What is that? It started in your head, but God meant it for your mouth …

How do you keep the ringlets of the pebbles tossed in calm lakes from swallowing up the reflection of those you love the most … just before you give them flight … the second upon which you release their memory stones from your palm? …

The film of your redemption was as thick as unkempt kisses … rude and rare meat mangled … cupping my palm gravel of you like a pale rose born from the oil of our bodies … pressed panting passions, and the hope which water slips finger fragrant through … sinking shadowed bubble ripplets rising to quench … to beg you …

Light a fire on your blackened banks and send me smoke signals … send me the sentiment God wanted your voice to call out in the moonlight across this unstill body of mirror and madness between us … I am waiting on the far shore … my hands empty of stone, thorn,  or misconception …

Only flowers and tenderness remain.

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved June 25, 2015
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A Prophecy

 

The peacock’s latch and key feather frames of the boundless Benoit Mandelbrot refraction within the eyes of our most ancient antecedents … splay meringue spread fully fan … an altar ripe reason to carry him vestibule varied to the temple … upon thrones of Rose of Jericho come from foreign deserts to blossom in privileged honor … their fern frond palms out stretched and moist with the duty of their birth … the children are gone now who had come plant blessings …  frond to tiny button finger tipped palm and prayer pressed as messengers of The Light … it is with this blessed assurance the footmen arrive to carriage the Lord home again , “Light as a feather and stiff as a board ” … they move the sand thrones of deserted time … his tail of a thousand eyes following behind to ward and wary a protective parade … against all spiritual poisons of those who desire to merely fest on the flesh and deem pot block the sins of others … boiling their intestinal fortitude into cloyed purple confections pate for their supper … hearts can beat without bowels and skin as well … suck the marrow of our roasted bones, cheese the brains as you care, to our sorrows swim in the blood of pools you gathered when slain the strutting Self you dared … the colors you scent all in your sighted worlds, your pox blankets and whiskey, your lands and treaties … we are like the peafowl we carry our colors within … do as you will, you can, you may, and you choose … the farther you tear at us the more light you shall find … shrouded in Crone and Warrior, Wisdom and Hag, Father and Mother, Grandmother and Elder … pink and wanting, brought and borrowed, Mother moon spun spelled … All Goddess granted, bright or shelled … your ultimate gift must always be, the part of you She entails.

July 11, 2016 2:30 am
© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

 

NaPoWriMo 2016 #30

Freedom

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Sweat wand hair triggers press the oil stain of guilt upon life’s innocent … in the scope’s glass the assassin’s eye synced to God’s pupil dilation … reacting only to the dark side of the moon these days … the remainder of the time seeking the light of the angel’s looms … weaving man’s additional moments based on when Leonard Peltier dreams of making love …

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

NaPoWriMo 2016 #8

Let There Be Love

 

May the children in the morning rays,

Remember love will always stay,

In their hearts if they are gay,

As they grow not forgetting to play,

Let There Be Love.

 

May our brothers come together fast,

Building bonds of strength to last,

A creed defined across all caste,

Molded from the ghosts of visions past,

Let There Be Love.

 

Will sisters struggle arm in arm,

Heal at last and do no harm,

Beat the drum fighting back the swarm,

Grow hearts at home and fruit upon the farms,

Let There Be Love.

 

And when at end of day we rest,

Bring kindness, joy, and peace to test,

Care for Mother Earth’s children best,

For We are seen and We are blessed,

Let There Be Love.

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

 

This is my wish for you all today and every day. May we all be as One and May there be Love.

 

 

#NaPoWriMo 29

Poor Prayer

There is no Saint who can hear an empty heart,

Exists no God who sees a self proclaimed fool,

No Matron Mother bears beliefless children homeward,

If all prayers are whispered on the wings of woe,

This is why we have Angels come into our lives,

To lead us to the light once more, when darkness falls.

#NaPoWriMo 29
© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 26 For Whom is the Honey Made?

Why does the bee labour so?

Why do the blossoms come?

Why has the honeycomb stood?

So long in this trusted wood?

For whom is the honey made?

For man, for beast, for micro mind?

For metamorphic clocks of time?

Why have we come to drink our own?

And murder so the host that binds?

For whom is the honey made?

Ask yourself, while there is still time.

#NaPoWriMo 26
© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 18

My Day 18 … I apologize for not keeping all of you good people read. I will catch up as soon as I can. My Grandma Hayes used to say, “When the leaves on the oak trees are as big as a mouses’ ear, then you can take your leaves away from the plants and cinder blocks of the house. Before that and you’ll kill all your lady bugs.” She was so wise about these things. She grew a yard full of flowers that people from all around came to buy.

My folks grew up close in location, around Poplar Bluff, Missouri. I am thinking of Grandma, my mother’s Mother today because my father is burying his brother Earl today.  Earl used to go over to grandma’s and help with all sort of things. He’d help Grandpa put up firewood from a tree they took down. Fix anything they might need. Stop in and check on them or just stop by for a visit.

The days of people being so close is gone. The world is so scattered and it seems we are all strangers to each other in many ways. I treasure my memories of uncle earl and how he used to tickle us silly, bring us cold watermelons and teach us how to spit a mouth full of seeds, let us ride in the pig feed out to the back woods to feed the pigs so long ago. Grandma Dunlap still had chickens then and my those eggs were amazingly good on a cold morning.

He was a funny man and told the silliest jokes. Always said ,”You’all come back real soon and see us ok?” and he meant it. He will be missed and remembered as one of the kindest people I ever had the good fortune of meeting let alone having as my uncle.