Song of the Disenchanted
The oldest of our two granddaughters sent us a text yesterday letting us know that there is to be a sequel to our collective movie favorite, “Enchanted.”
We watched that movie to the point that we learned it’s songs. So many times we giggled together as Crazy ’Ol Grampa sang along to “How Will I Know,” or “Happy Little Working Song” while the girls used pretend brooms to sweep away all those nasty little vermin!
We will watch the new version for nostalgia’s sake if nothing else… that is if we can all find time to get together, what with the girls’ crazy college and work schedules. But even if we do get together the magic will surely be missing.
”Disenchanted,” Addie says the re-do is called.
And disenchanting I am sure it will be… at least for the one of us who can’t even see the movie through the watery memories of two tiny, barefoot princesses twirling in front of the television.
Chant for Cleansing
I am enough
I am on purpose
I am in control of how I choose to react to the events in my life.
My past is past.
My future is of my choosing.
I claim this present moment …. Now.
(breathe in counting 1-10 slowly arms raising to the sky)
(breathe out with a cleansing whoosh bringing arms crossed over your heart
hands on you shoulders….pause….give yourself a hug)
(repeat as often as required)
Notes from the underground (title in body of text, for some awful reason, i mean why, why WHY?!?!)
Notes from the underground
I'm not fucking Dostoyevsky,
there's no place like home,
we come in peace,
you don't need to wear that dress tonight,
the kabobs are on the car mat,
wash it all with Amway stain removal,
WD-40 cleans the crayons,
save on long haul,
put it on the Ritz,
for a fistful of dollards,
Rhubarb, or whatever way you spell it,
on the shores of Bilbao, happy days,
the hands the mocked, the heart that fed,
show me the way to the next fiasco,
when life hands you a Montreux jazz festival,
make MontreuxJazzfestivalade, dummy.
oh, to live in a world where chesnuts exist,
just for one day,
Chester the cheetah,
we didn't come all this way just to come,
slinkies, are a lie,
believe what the clouds tell ya,
those horny bastards,
just want to rub against each other,
the light in the fridge, broken,
the light in the microwave, isn't Dostoyevsky,
fuck, Dostoyevskiness is too notey .
notey too, tutalloo, Tuscaloosa.
get that through that thick head of yours,
lavender is not a color, its a fucking shade!
blow some steam, sell some vacuum,
endless expanse, is good business,
look at all those letters, that cant fit together,
use a magnet,
go to Reykjavik, Alabama,
more is less, less is less,
you win some, you sam zam,
vam vam, mack the knife.
I am I said
I am strong
I am kind
I am smart
I am everything I love
In myself for myself
I am from my past
I will be for my future
But I take the present for it is mine
Chants for the disenchanted
Leaves descend— falling
In a diZzYiNg motion-
Hands try to grasp them
But in a blink of
only one grǽg eye
The leaves begin to
Burn once they hit the
Molten bubbling ground
The hands then tremble
At the sight of the…!
*SCREAMS* & *RUNS*
Its not lava~but
Sea.ring blood from the
Eyes of the pine tree.
the magic being washed down the drain in the shower,
like a clump of hair in the drain
or chunks of vomit after a long night.
it was labeled as infectious
scrubbed away by chants and crystals,
soap and water,
my curse has been removed
and i am now empty,
a blank slate waiting for the next day
to rewrite me.
and then i'll scrub it away again.
having lost my trademark magic,
who am I now?
i have become one of the masses,
losing the dirt that made me
losing the grime that made me real.
i am now a mere doll,
and an absence
in being clean, i feel
i have stopped caring about the shower,
stopped dwelling on each speck of dust
stopped untangling my hair with a thick brush.
i no longer have the energy
when being clean
i am no longer within a shell of a body,
now my body is everywhere all at once,
at one with the dirt
and the cockroaches living
in the cracks of my walls.
but i am working hard
to reenchant myself
with the glory
in a grey and black garden
on my skin.
it was magic that i was taught to fear
but only now do i see
Be Careful What you Wish for
I am the place of your creation, and the coffin in which you rest until you are wrung from my body in a mass of blood, pain, and ended possibilities. You represent both my favourite ‘what ifs’ and the end to my innocence. You have forever placed your mark in my heart and on my body. You have brought me the greatest joy, and the greatest pain. A study in contradictions. For I am part of no world. I am alone in a sea of others who belong. I am not a mum of living children, but of angels.
There is a reason you did not live, and I ignored this to my detriment. In my anguish, I beseeched any higher power to allow me to bare children. It was such a small thing, women did it all the time. Announced their pregnancy and magically gave birth nine months later to a live baby. Why could this power not grant me this gift?
The problem with wishing is that when something is given, something must be taken away.
My very DNA was altered, my womb repaired, my embryo implanted. I was ecstatic, elated, in love. The future was happening. I gave birth to a baby girl. She was perfect and chubby, with eyes of midnight stars. She stared flatly at me, and I saw my reflection in her eyes. I could gaze at her forever. Every movement of her tiny fists enraptured me. My pride, my accomplishment, my key to belonging was here. Something I would die for.
That night, the powers that be took my mother. A life for a life, there must be balance. I realized then that while I had gained a daughter, I had lost a mother. I was no longer a daughter.
My daughter grew up, without the love of her grandmother. She was somehow different than others. Prone to fits of rage and cruelty. The night she killed my dog I again beseeched the powers that be- why have they cursed me with this child?
I swear I heard a laugh on the wind- be careful what you wish for. Perhaps we should find joy in the things we already have, rather than longing for those that we do not. Always chasing happiness when we could be content with what we were given. In life, we have to learn to accept injustice.
My life still stuck on pause, as I clean damage you’ve caused.
A crow caws near the window, fates innuendo?
Heartbeat lacks a tempo, like that of a widow’s
Weeping like willows, I use my leaves roll up trees till’ anxiety’s ease then quietly scream in my pillow!
Am I to believe, you straight lied through your teeth?
Lies you conceived, are like hives full of bees your loving is sweet, till’ it leaves then it stings!
Used my self esteem like a puppeteer’s strings, made your fool with each pull capable of such terrible things!
A monster, a menace, a heart torn then transformed to a beautiful tempest!
Her nature’s relentless, please save her prevent this!
My self sacrificed, for the life of somebody else with nobody’s help who’s only self interest is maintaining what little she has left of her mental health….
Chant of Trangression.
Writhing inside my own torment,
Of my own making.
Degenerative tissues inside my psyche
Take hold of me.
Sulfurous walls of hope and calm
Reveal enough illiteracy and absurdity in my eyes.
Trangressing in the circle,
Burning from one end to the other.
Where have I been all this time?
What is there left but.... this.
The hourglass is broken,
Thrown into the dark,
Forcefully beaten into dust.
Ending: July 30th... on a warm summer day.
© Marcel Nault Jr, 2022