Godly Miss Divine

Immaculate Conception

heavenly woman

beatific to all men

until she became defrocked

by Mr. B Devil

who came in darkness

in caped disguise

melodious words

purring from lips

hiding yellow teeth

and heart impure

seduced Miss Divine

blackout of light

disappeared in a pouf

leaving her in gloom

without her virginity

no longer divine.

and there we were

making flowers bloom,

between one sky and the other

in the middle of both worlds

creating something perfect, divine

whispering softness

and breathing out rose-color honey

Jasmine wondered why she always did this to herself. When would she learn? She'd get into the flow of being a decent human being; actually get dressed for the brand new day, clean regularly, be able to breathe. And then it's like she ceased to exist--something inside her certainly seemed to. And when she was resuscitated, she was stupified at all the time lost; revolted at all the opportunities missed, the disarray left in its wake. She mourned for all breaths devoured but untasted, the laughs never born, songs unsung. As if making up for lost time, an old favourite popped into her head so she sang as she washed her favourite mug; her greedy cup, with its huge red heart and the words "I love you" written in pretty font. The cute little white and grey cup came next. Smiling at the inspirational message--the reason he bought it for her, she thought about the Alaskan Wood Frog, how winter killed it. And how, as soon as winter disappeared, spring brought it back to life. Maybe it wouldn't have minded not dying every other season, but that was part of its existence, what made it. The wind blew the lovely scent of orange blossoms her way and she thought about how the bitter ones propagated the headiest perfume. She wondered if its calming attributes could materialize in form, as well. Washing the round, blue bowl that she didn't return made her heart ache a bit. It was probably high time the place got spring-cleaned; maybe she'd finally try that trick of wiping the fridge with vanilla essence, so the kitchen smelled like a bakery every time it was opened. Looking at her reflection in the windows, she sniffed at the thought of her body devolving from hourglass to pear. She supposed it wasn't so bad really, it could've been worse. Pears were deceptively wonderful, if you thought about it. Yes, they were squat and drab, not likely to appeal by sight alone; but they taste simply divine, lush and juicy. Maybe she should plant a pear tree next.

we see light that existed

as it reaches earth

but not in real time

supernovas that exploded

but not erased until later

from our nighttime sky

and what if we can’t see

what is dead

divine light

reaching us instead

And she called him "Divine"

simply because of how he looked in the moonlight,

and when she picked him up the dried tears on his cheeks like rain drops glistened

as if it were a thin film and he stared at her yet he did not cry, yell, or whine.

Instead he reached, wrapped his fingers which knew no strife around her pinky and cooed

as if to reassure her that was indeed his name.

So she brought him inside, safe from the dimly lit dangerous streets

and sat in her rocking chair by the fire as her tea brewed.

Unaware that the man who left him on her doorstep stood in the shadows

watching and wishing that his son would live a good life without him.

He shed yet another tear like the ones he dropped onto his sons face as he let him go

when he accepted he was no longer his father, but a man meant for the gallows.

As he faded into the darkness he couldn't help but smile while he recalled the words that left the womans mouth not to long ago.

thinking to himself of how he would tell his wife the tale of what happened once he was reunited with her in the afterlife,

"And she called him Divine."

what does it mean

to be divine?

is it a goal

to be immortal

to be unkillable?

or is it a curse,

death doled out

but

recieving none in return?

would eternity

help us

sort out our problems?

or only create more?

is divinity really better

than being plain old me?

i've never been divine,

and that's okay with me.

no one expects the average one

to stand up in the spotlight

and perform for a crowd,

so i slip unnoticed through the audience,

a mortal admiring

the unlucky divine.

You can't convince me he wasn't divine

Because to have so many

Looking at him like that

Could only mean

He was too special

For someone like me