Un-alone
Laben Conroy sat un-alone in his head
His lover lie cooling under the covers
She'd thrashed and moaned
She'd squirmed and she'd groaned
Whilst his fingers danced round her throat
Still unsatisfied he could not let her lie
So he rolled her over and had her again
Now Laben Conroy sat un-alone,
Crowded in fact was his head
Dripping with sweat, half hard and still wet
He buried his lover cold and dead
In a mound of pillows and sheets
The blankets still reeked
When he deserted her there in the bed
Laben Conroy walked un-alone in his head
He locked up the door on room 34
He was nine rooms through
Out of four wings this was two
How long would it be
Wondered the voices as he,
Played with the remaining sixty-six keys
’Til his manor was packed room to room.
Not sure
Another secret
Another silent regret
I'm just not sure yet
And I think I love you
Or maybe I hate you
Doesn't matter, it's the
Same thing
And I'm oh so broken
But I'll take your baggage
And you can take mine
Keep your heart as a token
But I don't want anyone
Else to see me with you
So swallow your pride
And your words
Hide your face
Behind a mask of disgrace
An open letter to hypocritical adults
You tell your kids to "play nice."
You tell your kids "if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all."
And most importantly, you teach your kids the Golden Rule:
"Treat others the way you want to be treated."
Donald Trump you are many things, but you are also a father. And if you tell your young son any of these things, you are a liar. You are a hypocrite. Instead tell him that it's okay to take what isn't yours, that it's ok to be mean to others, that your actions don't have any consequences, tell him that some people are born superior. And some aren't.
I live in a world where we have anti-bullying rules in school but not in politics, where they teach us acceptance and diversity when we're young but preach hate and division to our parents, where we learn about recycling in class but big businessmen tear down our forests, where violence isn't tolerated when we are kids but is the solution to everything for politicians.
I'm just a teenager. But I know this. I know that adults need to remember what they were taught as children. Remember what you are teaching your children. What kind of example do you want to be setting for them? And what kind of world do you want them to grow up in?
Propagation
The Origin
1- 1 When it began, the Goddess sang-
Existence made its way.
Explosions carved the universe
As She unfolded clay.
2 The earth held nothing in its form
Aside from empty dark.
The Goddess crafted sod and sea;
Her spirit made its mark.
3 The angels She created next-
Of wing and feral might.
Emblazoned with a fiery core,
An army willed to fight.
4 And then She said, “Come forth, the light!”
She saw that this was good.
Amazed, the ushered breath and beast;
She crafted earth and wood.
5 A separation of the void,
She called them night and day.
A sphere of fire to keep the morn,
A moon where dark would stay.
6 Upon the realm of Midgard’s turf
In waters rushing flow,
The Goddess spoke and ushered fish
Beneath the undertow.
7 Upon the lands, the angels flew
Ensuring life evolved.
The smallest to the greatest spread,
A manifest resolved.
8 The Goddess called her angels back,
Decreeing, “Be it so-
That all I make shall reproduce-
Increasing ebb and flow.”
9 And Midgard teemed with floral growth;
The fauna filled the land.
The angels blessed the beast and bird
As was their first command.
10 Although the world begotten brimmed
In life of every thing,
The Goddess felt an emptiness
Compelling her to sing.
11 A garden formed of lush delight
Encapsulating all
Invoked as She unleashed a song
And wrought mankind in thrall.
12 The major chords she ushered forth
Ensnared the dirt and mud,
And in her image came the first-
A human, flesh and blood.
Lilith and Adam
2- 1 And so it was, creation bloomed-
The Goddess placed her spark
Embedding every living thing
Between the light and dark.
2 Around the garden walked abroad
A woman of the earth.
The Goddess smiled at what she saw,
Creating in her mirth.
3 She called her Lilith, wrath of storm,
The Goddess lullaby.
She raised her up above the beasts;
The angels in the sky.
4 And though all pleasures she partook,
A sorrow swallowed whole.
The Goddess made the woman sleep
To form another soul.
5 The moment She began her song,
A rib from Lilith spurned
Another- man- as Adam came-
And passion in him burned.
6 Now, Lilith did not like the man-
He tried to rule her form.
But she refused his thirsty lust;
No, she would not conform.
The Descent
3- 1 Rejected, he walked through the wood
Until he heard a voice-
“Dear Adam, you have much to learn-
My son, you have a choice.”
2 The dragon, once called Lucifer,
Had fallen from a star.
Enticing Adam with his lies,
He whispered, “There you are!”
3 As Adam stood before the beast,
A newfound feeling swelled.
“What can I do to make her mine?
To make her heart compelled?”
4 “Oh, Adam, you have every right-
Absolve your flesh in her.”
The great deceiver coaxed his prey
And Adam would concur.
5 Unknown to either of the two,
The Goddess crafted more-
She called them dwarves and others elves,
The myths of ancient lore.
6 As it would be, a dwarf about
The garden heard the plan.
He raced to Lilith, full of fear,
And thus betrayed the man.
7 The garden, Eden it was called,
Invited Adam home.
And Lilith waited, open arms;
Beside her stood a gnome.
8 “So, Mother has created more-
And here you wait for me.
I have a tale to share with you-
An act to set you free."
9 Upon these words, the dwarf appeared
And angels flew below
Arresting Adam ere he stood,
For what, he did not know.
10 “What meaning do you have for this!
I am of Goddess craft!”
Ignoring him, they tied him up
And placed him on a raft.
11 As Lilith watched him float away,
She noticed in his grasp
A piece of fruit from off a tree
Secured within a clasp.
12 The crafty dragon then appeared
And freed the man to dine.
“The Tree of Good and Evil- yes!
Behold- it is now mine!”
13 Of all they were allowed to eat,
The fruit from off one tree
The Goddess had forbidden them-
It birthed eternity.
14 As Adam fled atop the beast,
An an angel came to guard
The entrance into Eden’s realm-
A blazing, shining shard.
15 The dwarves and elves rejoiced to see
The man depart their land.
As Lilith utilized her skills,
The Goddess found it grand.
16 A blessing over Eden’s girth,
Reviving all inside
And laugher flourished plant to plane-
A gift she would provide.
Fallen Angels and Adam’s Daughters
4- 1 Outside of Eden, Adam’s lust
Increased as he would find
A race of creatures, humanoid,
In which his loins would grind.
2 The offspring grew in wonderment
And angels fell from grace
The same as Lucifer had been,
Succumbing in that place.
3 As Adam had him many wives,
So, too, the angels took
To bed his daughters, full of sin,
Depicted in this book.
4 Abominations they produced,
The giants and monsters spawned
Devoured the outer world around
As evil newly dawned.
5 And still they could not enter in
The gates of Eden’s port.
The Goddess kept her promises
And Lilith ruled her court.
6 The angels, each a different brand-
A lion, and eagle, and
A bull defended Lilith’s woods-
And kept filth from her land.
7 For Adam daily tried his best
To take back all denied.
And yet the Goddess blocked attempts
No matter how he tried.
8 The dwarves and elves and other kind
Among the woodland’s hold
Arose to worship Lilith’s Queen
And forged the Goddess gold.
9 Too closely to the outside world
A few dwarves ventured near.
The monsters sensed the wealth and vowed
To offer hateful fear.
10 Again, day out and in, they tried
But Eden’s troupe prevailed.
It seemed a futile quest, indeed
For every time, they failed.
11 The dragon formed a vengeful plan,
And Adam fell in line.
No matter how they changed the course,
The Goddess proved divine.
12 And I would know, for She is me-
We are one in the same.
The garden holds a hidden myth,
And Lilith is her name …
Stranger At the Table
He sits at a table, a steaming cup of coffee at his wrist, the newspaper flipped to the business section. It’s easy to imagine he’s checking the New York Stock Exchange and NASDAQ, and he looks so serious, so fraught with concern, I almost call out to him. But then again, what do I know about stock exchanges?
I stand at the counter, mixing up a batch of pancake batter. I add some vanilla, not bothering to measure it out; I memorized the recipe years ago, and the motions are second-nature. As I pour the batter, I glance over at him, hoping the alluring scent will tempt him. But I know it won’t; it never does. It’s always a cup of coffee and the business section. No eggs. No sausage or bacon. Just coffee, and the paper for company.
His face is familiar—brown eyes nearly hidden beneath drawn brows, sharp cheekbones, and the very slightest of underbites. His fingers tap impatiently against the wood, waiting for the coffee to cool. After a moment, he raises the cup to his lips.
“Shit!” He mutters the curse, but I hear it, because I expect it. He always tries to take that first sip too soon and ends up with a scalded tongue. The corner of my mouth quirks, and I shake my head. He never learns.
I finish flipping pancakes and pop them on readied plates, then gather butter, jelly, and syrup. As I pass by and begin setting the breakfast plates down, I wait, hoping against hope he’ll acknowledge me. He just flips the next page of the newspaper and takes another sip from his cup.
I should leave him alone, I know, but I can’t help it—I break the silence.
“Anything interesting?”
He glances up, brows raised, surprised by my sudden presence. Then, with a shake of his head, his face clears, all emotion erased like chalk from a blackboard. He folds the paper and stands.
“Nope. Same old, same old.”
“Oh.” I nod, as if I understand what he means by that. The sound of footsteps clattering down the hall draws my attention. By the time I look back, he’s grabbed his keys and is headed for the door. Now—desperate—I do call out.
“Have a good day! I love you!”
He doesn’t respond and barely bothers to glance over his shoulder. Tears prick my eyes, and I swallow, trying to force my heart back into my chest. As our three children race into the kitchen and devour their food, I watch my husband of twenty years walk out the door.
Less Than a Week Shy of Twenty-Three
I wasn’t looking for him; he wasn’t looking for me.
He was searching for a lay,
and as for me?
Any distraction would do,
as long as I could ignore
my ancient professor of psychology.
He said hello, and
behind the façade of taking notes,
I responded in kind.
And for the next two hours
I picked his brain
and he picked mine.
He was slick, that much was plain,
with a confidence
too bold to feign,
and although I wasn’t one
much for arrogance,
instinct insisted I take the chance.
So a few nights later
in the middle of December
I walked into a bar.
There he sat,
in hoodie and hat,
loud and proud and ready to holler
as the Bears beat the Saints
under a shower of snowflakes
in New Orleans.
The following week passed in a blur,
and the bleak chill
failed to wilt
the blossoming heat
that quickly peaked and chased away
my meekness.
On a fated Friday eight days hence
we took a drive with bated breath
up the river’s side.
On the opposite shore
of Mark Twain’s door
we parked before a building of brick
and there he introduced me
to his younger sis.
We sat and chatted the morning away
with John Wayne standing guard;
a lover of the written word,
she was a bard, like me,
and all in all we hit it off
and got along quite splendidly.
Noon slipped past
and duty called
and when she went to work
he and I
said goodbye
and decided on an afternoon nap.
So we laid in the bed of a friend,
snuggled and huddled
in close.
His fingers roved,
letting skin meet skin
and I didn’t move away.
Hesitation failed to show;
modesty gave in.
We nuzzled and necked.
I never thought to say no
as we slowly got undressed.
Lying there,
with breasts exposed,
I knew this was a thing
I was not
supposed to do.
But though I searched,
I found no guilt,
no shame,
nothing negative to name,
and so I chose
to enter the world of sexuality
less than a week shy
of twenty-three.
Winter melted into spring,
then gave way to summer’s heat.
And all the while
I grew and morphed
into a stranger
I was proud to meet.
The pleasures of the flesh
were a wonder to discover,
but he was so much
more to me
than a strong and steady lover;
he opened my mind
to thoughts that were my own.
Forced me to acknowledge
the things
I could no longer condone.
If I should consider
a deeper point of view
would I still agree
with the ones who came before me?
Or would I come to discover
a whole new identity?
Because of him
I realized
life isn’t always strictly
black and white;
and shades of grey
affect degrees of
wrong and right.
I wasn’t who I’d been raised to be.
I was someone else,
and he introduced her to me.
Eight years later,
he still sleeps
beside me in our bed.
Discussions still run rampant.
The sex is still fantastic.
And he swears I give the best head
he’s ever had.
#ProseChallenge #itslit #getlit #poetry #growingup