The Kitchen witness

~

 I learned about being a woman  in the kitchen
in front of the sink/below a windowsill of arranged glass bluebirds
my grandmother  she eats standing
after serving my wartorn grandfather
he yells over his shoulder for  Seconds!

 I learned about being a woman  in the kitchen
stirring Gazpacho soup,  my tia tells me
asi son los hombres/we gotta work with what we got
at eighteen she bargained out of unprotected rape
memorized his face  from her knees
peeling onions  I count
the sum of my own narrow escapes
too many
each stinging layer  a prayer:
may I  never bargin from my knees
may I  never trace with ice
the purpled edges of last night's slap.

 I learned about being a woman  in the kitchen
in front of the `fridge
my brilliant cousin/hospitalized anorexic  at 13
sprays fat-free
I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!  onto
low-carb
 no-glutten
  almost-bread
counting calories  the frontline trenches
in her daily battle towards  self-elimination.

 I learned about being a woman  in the kitchen
and I'm standing in this dingy vault
now heartbroken as
the haunted expert witness  to
my grandmother  and her silence
my 92 lb. cousin  /tubes in her arms
my tia  on her knees
mouth full of compromise
   I stand
struggling for an ample breath
relief or disclosure
facing my inheritance of shame  loss  & heartache
passed through generations  like a secret recipe
written across my belly  my rib cage   my breasts

 but the survivor strength of these  kitchen stories
got no time  for giving up
these women cast-iron strong
5 a.m. light through the open window  hopeful
holier than water  bread  or wine
...they whisper
get up  off the damn floor
fight back/learn to  love
this body
 this woman you've become.

~

Honeycomb of unrest

~

 Now deeply rooted
in this hardly noticeable soul are morbid vines.
They're the Setaria Viridis which grapple
this unlikely candidate from within...
similar to Queens' congestion
and its choking hold on my sensibility!
With exquisite crookedness
they'll dismember any perennial bounty,
Since, they're more than mere troublesome weeds
hindering the expanse of  esteem;
growing vertical and awry as they slowly strangle
  any wholehearted endeavor.

 Loquaciously, I speak of them
as they provoke even more trivial disputes,
causing this poet  to yield unsharpened skills
of disobedience and folly.
Possibly beyond this natural growth
in an unnatural setting...
There's a useful grindstone
and a harmless ol' persuasion
burrowing into solid ground
  ...as I  wish to lay upon newer foundations!

 Like a high maintenance  Honeycomb of unrest,
inside there's hollow chambers kept orderly
by drones with regard, rewarded with significance
 whilst repairing
   this hexagonal gravesite... named A.Z.

~

In demand

There's no greater turbulence
Then genuine afflatus
Or simply put: Light
Which guides can justly restore.
Keep the Love as something
To adore, keep ritual evermore.
The posturings of such loving;
Heavenly it sings, lovingly within
Clarities of speech, reckless songs
Subside; The etchings of poetics
Heartsongs that tend to preside.
A quietude of resolve only
Happens when: Galleries of insight
Appear as skylight dims.


Just an old poem of mine.
Thanks for reading.
Ashlyn

Foundations crumble easily

.

When going at it unprepared
And unchallenged...

There's a need for it always
More and more a tainted misery,

Bleeding out from battle scars
Is that chemical affinity.

Reign with a lifeless legacy
To watch innocence corrode,

Brake lines soon to rot away
From a catatonic overload.

Choking monoxide caused asphysia
In you snuffed reality,

Scorching brows killed the light
To incinerate bogus celebrity.

Grim reaper brought his butchery
For some bad karma amputee,

Genetic flaws never redefined
Death to a contagious entity.

No overtime, smash alarm clock
To steal one last final day,

Faithlessly beatitudes were used and spent
By narcissistic fools fading astray.

Twisted limbs do jump the third rail
To splatter on avenues below,

Circuit-breaker with fuse blown out
From bombastic high to all-time low.

Blaring sirens failed to warn you
To repent from this vile immolation,

Now absent-minded you'll bid farewell
To croak with the surmounting violation.

Shady guesswork only thing factored in
Friend of almost and wicked brother to none,

A permanent shooting star unwished upon
Enemy of wholesome morality, damage is done.

.

Positivity never expires

.

Now as these pinpricks stricken more deeply
A defense measure can actually harm us;

If it discovers the internal root of a scream
There will be more gashes upon turning cheek.

The only treasure which shall remain hidden
Is buried panic yielded from perplexing dreams,

As the heart reels in its own out-of-body experience
...Since being left flat lined in such a revolt.

How does this happen? Those overdosing on boredom
May ask, but unchallenged spectators needn't know

Of the silence, becoming another Sonoran ambush
As Diamondback's hiss leaves the nomadic in a daze

Under deserted sky, straddling massive dunes with
Nothing more than torn shirt on their back

And an imperfect equilibrium, which the discredited
Often rely. Those double-crossed by another's words

Have no advice to share, while breaking the rules
That must comply. Never leave something positive

Unfinished before being cordially invited~ to expire.

.

Retelling a fairytale

After Sexton:


Fairest Cinderella
And that charming prince
(A regular set of Bobbsey twins)
Lived out their lives they've claimed
...Happily ever after.
Like two antiques in a lacquered museum displaycase
Never to be bothered again by menial dust
Nor the fragmentary of modern indifference.
Their darling smirks pasted on for eternal bliss,
Metamorphosed  by fairytale smooch...
Some may concur as a newfangled luxury.
Never arguing over the same outlandish story twice
Is how not to portray this far-fetched romance.
The retelling of such fables
Keeps a young maiden's mind active
And gives poets~ other vulgar reasons for ribaldry.

Understanding

Raindrops never care to stay
or clouds just drifting on by
nor will raindrops let you touch them
as they arch upon azure sky.

A waterfall is never still
nor the leaves in late autumn season
or wind bending marsh grass down
which gives no apparent reason.

Our footsteps trod along paths
Beneath the azul canopy of sky,
for man has shown by living in
accordance, the real reasoning of why.

Travel far for weary friend
with nature's careful planning,
touch the supple petals of the soul
then wait for sensible understanding.


Thanks for reading.