Aphrodite’s child revisited

thoughts both beautiful & obscure
a heart as dark as it is pure
the sum of everything she’s sown
is Aphrodite’s child full-grown

lost lovers like so much debris
the strong gnarled arms of her family tree
the reflection of tiny lines on her face
as she grows old in another place

without & within the doors are open
a little wiser & well used to copin’
at childhood’s demise she will not mope
yet loves & writes with childlike hope

she works / she cleans / she cooks / she eats
then dreams at night on crisp linen sheets
unspoken wishes in a brain that’s yearning
dark desires that keep her stomach churning

a woman alone without a womb
at peace in Eden’s grey & green room
where angels look down from the walls
& memory dwells in hallowed halls

she lives with the voices of the ages
& with the Magi regularly engages
no matter that her arteries harden
there is joy amongst the words in her garden

what care she for the grey in her hair –
she, who’s endured the black dog’s glare?
she’s happy with the witch doctor’s pills
& the damp embrace of the Scottish hills

there’s no fear in the mistakes she accepts
just anger & grief & ashen regrets
yet she will fight a wee bit longer
& every battle will make her stronger

rejecting the role, rejoicing in the place
her duelling done with style & grace
demons & tricksters & stealers of hearts
felled at her feet with poison-pen darts

no matter that her waist grows thick
her breasts remain firm & her mind is quick
immune to anybody’s taunts
serenely meeting her needs & wants

barely free, torn between two homes
inside her head she endlessly roams
divided mind with heart still wild
is aging Aphrodite’s child

copyright © 2010-2014 KPM

Aging Aphrodite

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Aphrodite’s child

at the tender age of ten
come the attentions of the men
merry monkeys who endeavoured to appear innocent
as they praised her parents for producing
“such a beautiful child!”
& her parents – wishing not to appear too proud
responded with “she pretty, but she wild!”

bony bare-legged black boys
made her gifts of their most-prized toys
& watery-eyed white boys wistfully wished
for a way to get her alone
(they wanted no witnesses when they asked to walk her home)
moody & mesmerizing
teasing & tantalizing
fully aware that she’s everybody’s baby
neither affirmative nor negative, always a murmured “maybe”

the boy next door is on the precipice of manhood
know-it-all 19 to her tentative 13
& goddess status is no guarantee
against infallibility
fooled by flowers & flattery she falls from the pedestal
eager to believe this is love
(unable to perceive it’s merely lust)
too soon she is forlorn & forgotten
her “love” reduced to ashes & dust

the powerful patriarch plays with thoughts of slaughter
of the upstart who dared to seduce his daughter
quietly the queen mother dissuades him
using her womanly wiles to persuade him
to hunt for an Hephaestus for their errant Aphrodite:
“lest this attention make her vainglorious,
before she develops appetites notorious!
already she’s caroused in the conjugal bed –
to save her face (& ours) she must be wed!”

the peeved papa searches for a suitor well-bred & well-read,
one who’ll welcome such a treasure to his lonely bachelor’s bed
still grieving, before she can find her voice
the goddess is girded to a man not of her choice
a slovenly adoring ass, incapable of original thought
like Judas, her father sold –
like a slave, she is bought

despite her outrage at her father’s wrong
her sense of filial duty remains strong
she decides to make a go of this life
& at first she is a wonderful wife
she cooks/she cleans/she hides her gloom
a lady in company, a whore in their bedroom
of course he’s happy with his lot
but she’s not – she needs another
& so determines to take a lover

in a greasy garage with oil on the floor
she stumbles on the key to desire’s door
fully equipped with all the arrogance of youth
he’s self-important & uncouth
yet free from all taint of sin, & – blessed bonus! –
a veritable virgin
her stars are lucky (or the gods are kind)
so without examining sub or conscious mind
eyes shining, lips swollen & wet,
she decisively draws him into her net

& he is willing, & he adores her
in abject abasement he grovels before her
in his eyes a kind of madness burns
but before she knows it, the tables have turned
now she’s hypnotized/mesmerized
a body enslaved & paralyzed
a heart beating hard with love & trust
a woman laid low on the alter of lust

her adoration makes her crazy
the constant worship makes him lazy
but he’s there:
to her & for her,
a ballsy sibyl that can do no wrong
seducing her & swamping her
with love’s sensual song

she is swept away from her stupid spouse
from father & family &
the hated husband’s house
o infidel! o infamy!
poisoned by passion & pride
convinced of invincibility
as long as he’s at her side
the world is theirs, for so she arranges
then Chance erupts, & everything changes

into their interlude falls cold white snow
& he dances with a demon
in a place she dare not go
he dances while she dreams & schemes
of a way to win him back,
but the demon brings a Darkness
that forebodes a future black

thunder & lightning, all that is frightening
is passed through the end of a phone
snow surrounds, then topples
Eros from his throne
the sea rages & swells
the sacred shell doth shatter
Death rescinds love
now her life does not matter

lamenting & lost
in a tempest she is tossed
& she drinks as she cries
she screams/she shrieks/she sighs
in vain she tries to understand
why the gods have withdrawn their hands
the Muses warn she must repent
before the Parent Gods relent

doomed by love
damned by her loss
she flees Olympus
the last line is crossed
so she wanders with whispering voices in her head
capering cacophonous demi-gods
on her journey to the Dead

bleeding/bruised/broken
she wanders without will
seeking potions sweet & noxious
to render heart & body still
a tightly entwined rope
around her slender saddened neck
surely somewhere, something or someone
can put this grief in check

in her woe she is wanton
open to forces beyond her ken
so she roams, restless & reckless
lying with many men
some are nice (& some are not)
most are total shits
something better soon must beckon
so one day she simply quits

she runs/she hides
she makes a brand new home
& her eyes reveal acceptance
of a life that’s lived alone
she buries herself with Art & books
her new life is quiet & pure
to strangers passing on the street
she appears serene & sure
& other lonely souls believe she’s found a magic cure

eyes downcast or hidden
she lives this way for many years
a helpful & happy exterior
swimming in solitary tears
& she dare not admit (especially to herself)
that life & love are passing
while she dwells on this dusty shelf
then one day the gods relent at last
& send her one who obliterates the past

on a hot & hazy morning
sun shining in her eyes
the Divinity appears behind her
transported from the skies
he smiles at her, & she is bewitched
he speaks & she listens, totally transfixed
his demeanor is somehow both gentle & grand
awed & acquiescent, she allows him to claim her hand

he guides her to the garden she’d created for herself
& there he does things to her
that divests the dust from the shelf
her body is a blank book that he writes in
her mind is a fountain that he delights in
then he tells her that he loves her
his voice confident & strong
the words deliver her from the darkness
that has hidden her heart for so long

the chains have been cut
the past has been banished
the monsters of memory that hounded her have vanished
all that once hurt her he has abolished
the demons that dogged her he destroyed & demolished
the goddess has been restored
no longer afraid or alone
in the heart of the Divinity
Aphrodite’s child has found a home

copyright © 1994 -2014 KPM

Lust

a woman

you cannot tell her
what to feel
& before your idols
she will not kneel
the things she knows
you can’t belie
her reality
you must not deny
intensely loyal
to family & friends
her loving hand
she quickly extends
a gentle heart
with a core of steel
unashamed of
her sex appeal
she can’t be restrained
by chains or locks
she’ll always break free
from any box
make her angry
or make her cry
accept the risk
that she might fly
but if you can
accept her need
she’ll happily follow
where you lead
& she will love you
deep & long
if you’ve the courage
to hear her song

copyright © 2008-2014 KPM

Our Girl

worrywort

positive ‘n upbeat I may try to be
but sometimes things just get to me
thus in the midst of my workaday scurry
I’m sometimes plagued by insistent worry

I worry about the tiny bump on my bottom gum
what does it mean – where’d it come from?
I worry about the swelling in my knees
‘n agonize over my allergy to stingin’ bees

I worry that spiders will make their home beneath my bed
which adds to the grey hairs that’re sproutin’ on my head
what do I do with this hair anyway: go natural, or wear a wig?
‘n I’m sure these skinny jeans make my butt look too big!

then there’s the times I worry ‘bout what other people think
‘n whether or not I should have that second drink
I worry ‘bout my temper when life throws me a curve
‘s hard fo’ me to be nice when folks get on my last nerve!

nuclear war, racism, famine, the state of my eternal soul
I worry ‘bout all kinds a things over which I’ve no control
‘n I worry endlessly about the loved ones in my life
prayin’ that they’re safe ‘n healthy’ ‘n free from any strife

but somehow I get over it – I never worry for too long
soon enough my smile returns ‘n I burst into song
I believe in God, ‘n I believe in me
in the end I always triumph over adversity

copyright © 2011-2014 KPM

worrywart

Dundee fog

as greedy as a hog
is the Dundee fog
it swallows everything in sight:
buildings, people, busses, light
white ghost with a silent hiss
causing cars to hit ‘n miss
floats thru town in swatches swirly
makes her hair all damp ‘n curly
‘n yet she loves the gauzy shroud
that conceals her from the crowd
here she hides from grief & fears
in Dundee fog she disappears

copyright © 2007-2014 KPM

Dundee fog

triggers

the plaintive songs
of Phoebe Snow
recalls the night
that gave birth to woe

on the pungent smell
of gasoline
wafts the image of a boy
in tattered jeans

with the obnoxious sound
of an engine’s roar
she sees him leaning
against the garage door

the raspy sound
of a dry autumn leaf
brings to the surface
an ancient grief

ice cubes
that clink inside a glass
& she’s again engulfed by pain
she thought would pass

copyright © 2009-2014 KPM

mortality

2 little girls

two little girls with hopeful faces
one with wild ginger hair, the other blond with braces
two little girls I almost didn’t see
until they shyly stepped up to me

“Miss,” said the girl with the ginger hair
as the girl with the braces fixed me with a solemn stare
“Miss,” she repeated without artful pretence
“Please, could you give us 62 pence?”

“Our mums gave us money for the bus,
but we spent some at McDonald’s an’ don’t want them to fuss.
They won’t hit us, but they will yell an’ shout,
so we were just wonderin’ – would you help us out?”

I put on a serious face & said in a serious voice:
“Do you realize you may have made an unwise choice?
You’re old enough to know the world is full of dangers,
& I bet your mums’ve told you must never talk to strangers.”

“Yes miss,” the girls agreed, “But we thought you wouldn’t mind.
You see we talked it over, an’ agreed that you looked kind.
Really miss, we’re good girls – we use common sense.
So please, will you give us 62 pence?”

“You’re lucky,” I smiled, “I’m in a good mood.
I just want to go home & have some wine & food.”
reaching in my purse, I handed them a pound
“Now go straight home,” I admonished, “No hangin’ around.”

“Thank you miss,” they both beamed,
their smiles innocent & sweet
then they happily linked hands
& went skippin’ down the street

copyright © 2014 KPM

two little girls

what the cow thought

she lay atop a grassy knoll
this elderly Holstein
her coat the color of chalk ‘n coal
what thoughts run through her mind?

she remembers an endless field
where silver fish leapt from a stream
the swishing of the tail she’d wield
against the insects that would teem

or perhaps she dreams of a day
before the humans came
when she was still young enough to play
and possessed her own special name

copyright © 2014 KPM

what the cow thought

wildwind garden

on a little side street
in bonnie Dundee
is a place most folks’ll never see
gotta have an invite to gain entry
to the wondrous wildwind garden

it’s a secret place
hugged by mossy walls
alive with dancing waterfalls
where watches freeze & all time stalls
in the wilderness of wildwind garden

fruit trees groan
with the weight of pears & plums
wildflowers sway as the gardener hums
& everyone takes life just as it comes
in the world of wildwind garden

copyright © 2014 KPM

wildwind garden

undecided

my beloved country is currently divided
so my everyday life is now two-sided
one group yellin’ YES whilst the other nods NO
but it’s together towards the unknown we all go

I’ve read every article – every note
I remain unsure which way to vote
I’ve no real interest in politics
but this current divisiveness I long to fix

my heart swells to see the Saltire dancin’ in the Scottish air
an’ whether yay or nay for her people I dearly care
each day that I’m here I bless those bonnie skies above
I pray for my beloved Scotland – let us remember how to love

copyright © 2014 KPM

undecided