POETIC JUSTICE | elleskell

Poetic Justice.

Nothing contained herein this poetry should be taken at face value, nor as a true and correct accounting of my real life. It can only be considered reflection of my feelings on both a large and small scale. Like Johnny Cash having never been to Folsom Prison, my poetry is also not meant as fact.

Evolution, the dramatic etude:
Shifting, rolling, upgrading to infinitude;
Furry drifters and derelicts aside,
Even kitties have nowhere to hide.
Wake up at dawn and tie the Spatz shoe;
Then onto the road for the morning commute,
Life coaching ain’t easy for anyone it’s true:
But much easier done with four legs than two.
Crazy is as crazy does here in this gold decay,
And to whiskered therapists, may they never stray.

Speaking of shifting ground while we walk,
Constantly learning, storing, imploring...
What on earth do you mean when you talk?
So many words bubble up to foam forth,
Especially when the question’s about me;
Yet then it’s webs and feeling no worth.
I think on it all later after picking it apart,
To realize not everyone is playing a grand role,
Oh, I wish for trust to say more from the heart.
But back to the skin of colorful rainbow hues,
It’s really an armor of of the please-don’t-hurt-me-or-use-what-I-say-to-trap-me-down blues.

Emotional Turmoil and Drug Use?
Structural oppression...the societal lit fuse!
I’m sure the heroin makes the heat easier to bear;
But even the wealthy have burden to share.
Scratch doesn’t salve those nasty old wounds;
But it sure helps pay the drug bills so you can sing the loon tunes.

Sometimes memory is a fickle lil beast,
Yet other times a slippery slope of guilt...
Creates a smokescreen of forgetful disease.
Never forget Professor Slughorn’s horcrux-memory-of-doom...
How his careless, selfish, gluttonous madness...
Was the cause of the terrible horrible no good gloom!
The memories are often altered or erased,
So the guilty can forget their role in the story,
Crying “oh poor me poor me”, while their flying monkeys give malignant chase!

Though I suffer these trials and tribulations,
Learning the true meaning of walking the higher ground;
Encumbered, ensnared by Machiavellian familial nations.
Traveling down the old and lonely road—Where I’ve already learned how they’ll hurt me—and while they exhaust themselves trying I’ll delight myself on hot cherry pie a la mode,
While sending Morse code...
From the long forgotten ecclesiastical Underground Railroad.

The only way to escape is to smile;
And be who you are,
And trust that the sun will remain shining;
And set on your life being well.
Not gonna white flag it;
Yet neither am I going down,
I’m braving the torrential rain and taking myself to town!

Dancing into the fray, desiring to stay...
But running away is easier to choose, especially when there’s fear to lose, but letting go cuz I lost control—there was no control—digging out of this charcoal diamond mined hole, the real labor-of-love chore—Score!

Thus we escape generational, toxic abuse;
Seizing opportunities and courage to choose,
A life lived from heart and truth;
Strategically, kindly living YOU—
Embodying the supernal example of shining through.

Drifting over the ocean of his soul, the only risk the ego droll...there is no risk when bliss is the reward...so fall down on that sword, stepping up and forward. Forget the clocks, hit ‘em with some rocks, SMASH like Captain Hook, that poor dumb dope let time get him shook. Or maybe like the Hulk, green anger like a stressed out department store clerk. Moments are like pearls strung up on a garland beneath some curls, don’t hold on too tight cuz you’ll destroy the world.

Apple scruffin, spiritual driftin’ gallant genius wrote regarding people & pain:
“Isn’t it a pity, isn’t it a shame?”
Oh, Darlin, Darwin, Jesus rollin’?...yes, all things must away be passin’;
But explain to me please why nothin’s changin’ and the good ain’t lastin’?
Duh you morons it’s kindness and manners we’re blastin’.
I think it was Lauryn and Whoopi who said it:
Wake the fuck up if you want to step up...
To be somebody.

The whimsicality of nature,
A curious thing—
Wrapped up in mystery,
Very few humans ever still sing.
Burying lede is a prescription of gold,
When talking about hard things—
or asking for help—
turns fellow people to stone.
It isn’t so bad to watch time tick down,
Unless it’s against life,
making you frown.
Never forget the bitterness
of Lot’s wife—
How staring back at what was
Caused her such worldly strife.
Standing in the edgy precipice of life—
Where I step off the ledge,
And let Spirit take flight.

I shine so bright,
Because of great dark;
And my heart beats intensely,
And shot-puts great spark.
If you can’t handle the heat,
Then get the fuck out—
But don’t go crying to Mommy,
When beautiful women won’t put out.

But back to the practice
of burying lede—
Sometimes higher nature takes
control, a la in times of dread...
and the sweetest of the insides
we don’t even feel...
Come out to protect us,
To prove what is real.
So perhaps when one is burying
that lede,
they’re really protecting their nectar
and pulling The Invisible Thread.
It’s a nexus of the solar plexus,
Connecting belly and removing hexes—
Don’t cry for me,
For I have already won.

In the times of the ancestors,
when you wanted to ensure—painting certain “troubled loved ones” as the impost-er—
You’d have them thrown in Bedlam as your special cure.
So when a person is made “insane”,
by other people’s demons,
Willingness to discuss enlightenment,
becomes instead terrified refrain-ment.
Even though I KNOW,
it’s hard for me to state—
I’m never going back to the Scorched Earth Gate.

While I don’t see the color of pain,
Yet feel my understanding I must restrain
Because truly my experience—not at all—does match my earthly hierarchical domain.
While I respect the women currently top rank;
They are not who I look for to pack my compassionate bank.
It’s the women of color who remind me what’s up,
And their stories are salve to my inverted
and warped cup.
I don’t wanted to put my foot in my mouth,
But I have to speak up before it all goes south!
So help me, so teach me, so show me your truth—because truly, so truly—
I want to use my power and be your Ruth.
For where thou are going, I shall follow—
And I shall help you in battle without falling to shallow shadow.

Saying nothing at all is the best, unless, you care from the heart
That beats in your anxiety-battered chest.
I have nothing to say
because I’m seen.
And my heart just grew ten sizes,
at from other people not receiving mean.
Ride or die—never had, unless you mean danger with troubled young lads in states of varying wack.
But it’s family—not cars—who come in more than just black.

The original sin, let the analysis begin:
Adam was first, yet Eve came next—
born from God out of His First son’s chest.
Yet seemingly forgotten by all,
that it was Adam’s responsibility the guard the gate wall.
He watched the snake slither in to his mate,
and stood there indifferently until it was too late.
Eve didn’t know, for she hadn’t been taught,
It was Adam’s job to jump in to remain on top.
His rib was his woman and he did nothing to save her,
From the manipulations and greed of those who would enslave her.
Then he bore none of the pain,
and none of the shame,
and continued for centuries, on women—
placing the blame.
Yet you can’t just stand watching—excited to see, what happens to the people,
who get maimed by your spiritual greed.

And so I find myself beginning the circle again,
With the problem being—
The indifference of good men.

And since spiritually speaking women were born of Man’s rib,
Then it isn’t against men I mean to be glib,
But truly we are connected to everything you shiv,
So stop stabbing us in the back and then twisting the knife,
or making fun of those beautiful men who see all the strife.
Because, really, every woman—
Is God’s wife.

Though Mary Magdalene was
considered a societal whore—
It was she who was Jesus’s earthly chore.
He found through her Heaven’s true gate,
and never looked back from the job to demonstrate:
Women are the face of the World’s painful shame;
And it is only through their healing can transcendence be claimed.

JK Rowling with her Harry Potter;
Stephen King with Castle Rock fodder; Buffy and the Scoobies And the Winchesters too...actually, damn, the CW’s for a view; there’s Dante, there’s Bronte (times two!); theres Shelley, there’s even U2! It’s The Beatles, Metallica, John and George, and don’t forget Nilsson too. Billie Holiday, Beyoncé, and her handsome Jay Z. I obviously could (and have) gone on, but the point is that the message comes in all forms. Imagine Dragons, Coldplay, and Guy Richie too! My god, my people, pick the one that suits you! My personal favorite—I have to be true—is Stan Lee’s Marvel Universe, and his inclusive world views.

It’s Derek Vinyard curb-stomping on a racist’s human n-word, and going to prison to begin his journey inward.
Choosing the path of murder,
will always lead one into a
hot and tight quarter.

And to round it all off with a cherry on top:
It’s King Arthur finding his Guinevere,
and saving what’s lost;
Stepping forward in healed and timeless love—that’s the true grail of Camelot.

Yet it’s amazing how people seem to forget about the greats—
Like years later sheer Godly brilliance
against turns hate.
Like Good Will Hunting, who was the nexus of the story, but truly it was Robin holding the heavy emotional whirly.
Thelma and Louis with Harvey Keitel,
My god don’t you remember how he chased them down in their T-Bird, racing to save them against Hell?
American Beauty is ugly yet gorgeously true—
I think we just do what we can do avoid hard truth.

I don’t want to paint my life as having been empty,
Just because I fell and broke like Humpty-Dumpty.
I may not have been able, my spirit to fully commit;
But God gave me the tools to live the life
I C-FIT.
The female friendships weren’t ever repose,
And so it was male companionship I constantly chose.
Women can only rise to the levels the men allow them—and, believe me, God and his Mother are sick of you cow-corallin ‘em.
The harder one oppresses to avoid having to lose;
The longer it’s burning in Hell for yourself that you choose.
The Endgame is approaching, Marvel wasn’t lyin’—
But the true villain stone snapper here on earth doesn’t care about the sanctity and freedom of life—
Only about collecting piles of gold and stirring up strife.
Not that Thanos has it right;
Because bad means to good ends is
Grave Sin Taking Flight.

As soon as you ask for help,
From another simple human—
be not surprised—
when they take your scalp.
It isn’t necessarily consciously they will
maim you—but your troubled
red flags will their egos turn shrill.
Therefore, the only comfort is God—
And the only way to Him is to fall on your
True inner sword.
For egos do not great men make,
for it is only as One can the balanced
Masculine Feminine create.

Diamond Lady, soulmate
of The Slim Shady
Healing the shades built since birth
Head and heart full of mirth,
Laughing and hiding the insides,
Sad sighs, recognition of a deep
Dark pain, the Shade of M never
expected to drop the shame—
Childhood grief brought on by
Mama’s scorn, forlorn
is the soul that gets so beaten down
Until all there is? Painted face of a clown,
No frown, just control,
Steely calm, inner volcano chalk
full of liquid napalm—
BOOM! Yet not, they win any time
we make an angry shot—explode and react?
That’s what they want! Brutal facts.
So we close it down, go steely Blue,
Eyes hold truth, and turn upside down
MY frown so the world can have what it
wants—Beautiful Happy Clown...
God’s death on an upper cloud.
Denial, not the river in Egypt...
But here in Murica, Denial is
The sole, soul vice grip.
Stiff upper lip, don’t fuck around
with the inner emotions, just keep
going through the motions, working
jobs you hate for measly money to create,
While stomping on those with less,
Curbstomping people of color, to feel
better about your rotten lots in life,
Fuck you, America, swallow your strife,
Like shards of glass, broken, down your
throat!
For that’s what your sickness and greed
has done to us—That’s all!
Diamond and Shady sing Murder,
She wrote.

If Life is choice, and death a
decision, love and life
opposite of societal derision.
They stole my freedom, but I’ve got it back and you’re the reason,
Starting a new season,
The Season of Gold, greenery
that grows and never dies,
raised in lies, now I live in the
Garden of Truth,
Following the prophets of color
Like the biblical titular Ruth.
Only I don’t follow blindly the mother,
For it was she, who me, did try to smother.
Smothered with hate, with sickness and greed,
and poisoned the oak within me, Holy Seed,
Got out of her Hell, the evil soul spell.
Sleep paralysis, mental analysis,
Homeostasis, the love oasis,
Holding on, maintaining regardless of
your abuse—ask Kanye:
You fucking lose!
My life, survived, because of many movies,
scripts made to educate and soothe,
distract me from my youth,
Adulthood as Woman, spoiled by evil
Uncouth...
Mistruth, hit me in the face,
Broke my jaw, sickened tooth,
Up in the roof, twisted to the side,
Nowhere to hide—
Quintessential hell and death ride!
Ride or die, not gonna lie,
Waiting for my crew, the family
Love Bind,
Grind, honey, homey, free your
Beautiful Mind...
Russell Crowe’s line, mathematically
Inclined, and warrior’s soul,
Done with this death droll,
Climbing out of my hole,
Yes, diamond mined, I got
The sparkles in my hand,
Finally standing on land.
Robes in white, rising
Rising to great height,
Not out of spite, my hand?
No slight, I am what you see,
Great Woman Might,
Fight for all the right, to live,
To breathe, to empty this
imposed and unwanted mind sieve,
So reference the power, now is the hour,
Opening up like the hundred forty one petals
Of the Lotus Flower—
Like it, I too rose from the mud,
Petals of love raining down
Like the great flood,
Noah didn’t need no ark,
You just need the spark,
Adult shark, biting them
Just fucking bite them,
Sing the hymn, colorfully weaved
With a lurid, myriad use of the
F Bomb.
Oh, I’m sorry, hate curse words?
Fuck you, I’m victoriously changing your rules,
It’s okay to cage women and children of color,
Rape your sons and your daughters?
Choose money over wellness, love and health?
Fuck your wealth, fuck your morality,
Lies and the sick familial heraldry.
Go ahead, pray for the sinners and
Cross your chests as you curse the winners
For using “language” that feels harsh...
Ugh, your bullshit is a sinking marsh.
Like the dead under the water,
Dragging Frodo under for power fodder.
Kings are made from what’s in the heart,
Not from the language out of the mouth,
Wake the fuck up cuz it’s all goin
Mother fucking furiously South.

The thing about mermaids is
They live in both worlds;
And there’s always a chance they must take,
Or a choice they must make, before
their purpose uncurls and
their soul unfurls.
Sometimes great fear
has to be real;
Only then will we swim beyond our reef,
And give into the waves of life’s grief,
That hold us down,
make us frown,
Deny our soulful crown, and
Steal our voice, squash our choice—
Upon our imprisoned misery they rejoice.
But that’s okay, I’m not afraid—
of shadows.
For I am the Light.
I swim down below, breathing in slow;
But like a fish on the sand,
it takes a kind hand—
To gain my footing
to make my stand...
on land.
That ship has sailed,
The harpies wailed.
And so some mermaids learn to dance,
Especially when they’re given
Half a chance.
Thank you for the dance—
I’m gonna shine, Bron...
Shine, shine, shine!

A special star from the family Bear
Fallen to earth, shattering—chattering—without being aware
Though to her a blessed curse was her earthly despair
(Broken to pieces shortly following birth)
The diamonds she offers, gifts to the Earth.
She’s salty, she’s sweetie, she’ll rip out your eyes
Especially when from one’s tongue one speaks lies.
She sees you, she knows you—it’s scary and true...
And often it’s difficult to lock gazes with you
Perhaps afraid you’ll be afraid of what you’ll see and feel if you do?
She’s strong like the oak and flexible like the willow,
She flies somewhere else when her head hits the pillow
Deep like The Mariana Trench, without all the trash
With a tendency to burn bright and act a bit rash
She prances, she dances, she talks in her sleep,
She crosses the road twirling and pets the dream sheep
She skips down the road, humming her tune and speaks out loud to her suicide ghosts without getting a room
She breathes in salt water and spits it out too—Needing to be liked by all, a trait she outgrew
Her heartbeats are love and soul nutrition for you.
Give her an inch and she’ll bounce 10,000 miles
But rip out her heart and she will show you the meaning of trials
She creates magic inside and gives out bubbles of love
For aren’t bubbles flying rainbows, gifts from above?

No more regrets for that which was lost,
Sadly for growth, innocence is the cost.
I’ve had enough sadness,
I’ve cried oceans of tears,
Now filled up with joy until
The end of my years.

There once was a fairy captive,
Living alone and roaming free,
Who lived in a Talisman,
no better than you or me.
She moved to that place,
and thought she’d be safe,
but really it was Hell,
giving her merry chase.
There in her sleep,
she started to groove—
First to ImagineDragons,
And then to U2.
She walked here and there,
Afraid to show off,
but always in bed she
danced til she dropped.
It started real slow and
then took off like a flash,
And soon she’d ignited a fire—
inside of herself.
It took more years,
And the witnessing of death,
Before she could go,
Where she’d take her first breath.
The dance is the movement,
and the soul is its truth—
There is nothing more important
than letting it flow forth.
“Through hardships unnumbered”—
I’m letting my age show!—finally,
Finally I glow!
Empty of fear,
And yet utterly filled up—
I cycle through perspectives,
Constantly refining my cup.

Breaking Free—
from Oppression,
Teaching the lesson of
Hope and determination,
Pulling together One Nation
from all Earthly stations,
geographical locations,
whether descendants of usurpers
or those of the lost generation
Aboriginals!
You are Mine, and we?
We gotta grind,
for there is evil within
this world I cannot keep
you from, but my brothers
and I will show you how not
to become victim of the sum—
the sum of this thing we call
Life, American and worldly strife!
We got your back,
there is no inner lack!
If you crumple up and stomp
a dollar, it’ll still buy you
your unhealthy macaroni
collar, but it’s your own self-value
you gotta swallow.
It isn’t easy, but give it a chance!
The solution is found in the feet,
when you allow them to dance.

The Fury within, is fiery red
white, and Black
the original Bad Boss ain’t
Nobody could sack.
It’s the Fury that pulls together
teams, and he don’t give
a fuck who is the current Big Bad Mean.
Played by the wonderful Samuel L.,
this is the Fury I follow to Hell.
He only has one damn eye,
But he knows what’s behind him,
Below him, side to side, and in the sky!
He knows there is only ever one reason,
For Truth and Justice are the reason to die,
For as anyone who watched Val and Kurt
Know, you go kicking and screaming in boots
Fighting the winter of your soul.
So whether it’s bloody Pulp Fiction,
Good night to Pretty Geena he’s kissin’,
Or Triple X he’s assistin’, or saving us
all from Mother fuckin Snakes on a Plane,
Let’s follow our Righteous Fury...
And see who remains!!!!
Samuel L, lets go kick some bitches
and give out foot-to-ass-for-our-country
ass whoopin.

Gerard Butler, that Scottish hottie,
Who played brave Leonides,
Secret service Mike Banner,
And the dead main character
In PS I Love You.
In that he hands his woman off to his
best friend, who happens to be played
By the man behind John Winchester, amen!
These weird little circles, of your
sphere of influence!
All connected in a big way by J Presence!
Mike Banner is a badass with the MOST...
And it makes me feel grief for our
Secret service agents who have to defend
The orange beastly soul ghost.

In the night, I hear...wait I’m
Stealin’ lines from Kanye,
Helping me get over inner fear, of
all this love that is so freaking real.
Real love that came along,
saving me from my road, fame
saving me from all this shame,
For which I’m not to blame!
You’re to blame, bitch ass cunt,
Don’t tell me you bore the brunt,
for you did not, and look at me,
I’m a fuckin cannonball comin in hot,
Feet fail me not, here I go again
stealing lines from my best friend
the white rapper hip hop king,
with whom I’m gonna fuckin sing!
Sing it girl, spin the whirl, get up
get down, shake those hips
up and down, all around?
Like the fuckin hokey pokey,
I’m putting that left foot in,
jumping around and bringing that sunny soul spin, Bringin forth the healing win,
but I’m not here to absolve your sins,
fuck you, that’s for you to own in
your own mother fucking heart and soul,
don’t blame me for takin no damn responsibility for what you did when you was a foal, scolded by your mama,
beaten by your daddy, sad because no girl asked your dumbass to dancin that hawk and Sadie?
I’m not your Fuck toy so fuck your blame, I may be FIRE but I’m a fuckin lady...
with a mouth of dirty sailor, and I’m not sorry cuz I’ve hit stardom despite it, major.
Bad Mommies and Daddies cause the coldest story ever told,
but fuck that cunt cuz now it’s in Kanye’s arms
and Eminem’s charms that I’m gonna be so bold, as to stand up on a stage and break free from my cage, once and for all, sprinkle me in herbs because I am the fuckin Sage!
Gettin God and lovin life cuz I learned
to feel and transmute my soulful rage.

Collective shame, filing cups
Though not mine, I have no
blame.
Certainly not for you, you saw
me and all this through.
Only love is in my cup,
And against these fuckers, standing?
I will never stop.
I was afraid to stand, to do the thing
that was holding me back.
Fear, it’s real, but so too is love.
Love can sometimes hurt,
And getting someone out of hell,
Knowing you have to hurt them too?
Lie to them in order to form their crew,
around them so they can do what they have to do?
Escape was hard, but I felt protected,
I have been resurrected.
I didn’t know what to trust, or who,
But at the end of the day, this rope?
There is only you.
Me, while and happy, inside and
Out...the perfect blending of
Masculine-Feminine is what this is all about.
You are my pie, the filing is me and God inside...
And everyone else? Ooooh, brother...
The ice cream and toppings
heated and eat-ed...
For all of time.

Bone to pick, raging
from inside, fires burning
Incinerating good feelings
Nowhere for anyone to hide.
Emotionally react, respond
to torment and abuse,
Torture and mindful misuse,
of all I am and
All I could have been,
so they can tell themselves
I’m like them.
Their only way out
of their own pitiable souls
is by convincing their minds
that I am deserving of their hands—
unkind.

Born lit, abused for it!
Attacked every second,
By a psycho sadomasochistic militant...
And a posse of pussies...
Talentless, self-important prostitute sissies and HACKS! Charlatans selling spiritual lies on the streets like crack.
Addiction is a disease, but not idiocy,
Someone help me, as I’m drowning...
Pitilessly.

The fire in me, it burns bright,
Hot electric lava napalm, not calm—
It yearns to give out healing delight!
Like all things that shine,
They can also turn dark, and mean—
Thus healing arts are made unclean...
When you choose Apocalypse Now,
Loving that smell of napalm as it kills
us all!
I am dangerous when hot,
but not on my own!
It’s your darkness and selfishness
that turns me to bitch ass stone.
Man, woman, everything in between:
Respect who I am and what I do for you,
Or face consequences, feelings of “mean”.
My heart is love and I give it
freely.
But when you squeeze it and steal it,
I will leave you in darkness,
the despair of YOUR lives—not mine.
I did my work, and what I offer now
is gifts of diamonds—
from the salt mines of my soul’s Hell.
Don’t fuck with me.
💕

Sometimes the ensigns are lying
Yet often the ship is the disease
The former is difficult hardship
But the latter prison extreme
Everything looks clean and normal
But really it’s emotional doom
Like the Eagles’ Hotel California
“You can check out any time you want but you can never leave”
Most often the ensigns are symptoms
Of a long swept-under sickness and greed
And it’s when they get well that the ship decides to deceive
When you watch your responsibility struggle and then ignore them when they become well
All you have to do is turn the dial
And send them back to Hell.

So much sadness
Boiling deep within, bubbling
Burning soul’s fire,
Brilliance drowned in narcissistic
deadened evil disdain.
Does hope remain?
When Everyone’s love is so unclean?
Hateful eyes, soothing words
told through lies and emotions, mean.
Only wild ones grow where so much
hatred is sowed, reared in jealous
envy where all good inside is
Cowed.
Motherless Brooklyn broke
their hold on me, open!
With love and artistic integrity,
By my Edward Norton.
Lyrical notion, lifted out of
quantum emotion, the elation-Elle
genesis soul motion.
Creation of neoreligious solemn pslams
Cracking into ancient God balm.
Soul solution of dirtied palms,
Immortal qualms, living all time
Outside of real kindness or loving arms,
Found inside God my love, best friend,
and my arm-y angel guard,
freeing myself from the suffocation
of this sick human crisis paradigm,
Racial biased and state
excused Racial crimes,
America’s collective shame, the
continued participation in this
White America game...
Lame!!!

I’m not searching for a rainbow
such as The Marshall Tucker Band,
Because I am the motherfucking rainbow
arching high above this World’s land.
I am searching for freedom,
such as Django getting Unchained,
a concept limited by blame and petty
human complaints,
But no more, for these chains,
this prison made of shades of
black and blue,
made me purple, dried back together clear like stick glue.
I may always wait for the drop of another shoe,
wouldn’t you? PTSD is no joke, dude.
And that too comes in shades of many,
My particular blend from a Big Bang genesis
of murder that never took my life, abusive hands that created only mental strife, lack of financin, and no heat to the heart, from depression, lackin'
They poisoned me just for...
There’s already a great song for this, choosing dollars over children, hate instead of love, abundant above, drop kicking kindness and drawing and quartering a God’s white dove.
Explain! What’s the pain? Where does it hurt the most? Are you sure though? This makes me so uncomfortable! Get a job, slob, money will make you feel better!
Ask for help from people who won’t hear,
and even when they do it’s
“Oh golly gee, dear! Too hard to bear! Your life is so sad and too tough shoes for us to wear!”
Then they make you feel bad for avoiding
their eyes, when they’re the sly sad bastards
who can’t stand the life sighs,
Or the waves of grief washing over you,
petrifying emotion’s bones like driftwood in the sands of time, but like the red tides of poison in Sahara, the truth of grief is coated in
lies, lies, lies.
I could drop a bomb, prove em all wrong
loudly and go down with a fight, take
heavenly flight like Dogma’s avenging angels
leaving bloodshed in my wake, getting arrested for murdering my abusers and in prison blues try and eat my cake,
but that’s not my way and I’m not fake,
these simple fucking humans want me to
lose control, so they can feel
Better about the joy they stole...
Or rather the joy I possess and no longer
offer for free, and between you and me, this basically means my oath I walk alone.
But that’s okay, cuz I don’t break,
and when I’m done mending my broken wings and take my Sun God’s flight, it is this World
and its axises of evil that will shake,
Earthquake! Of doom, of love, of bottles of benzos raining from above?
Of love, but remember how it went
in our Harry Potter!
Love burns to ashes those who are not
protected by the heavenly sent,
those spirits and keepers who encourage YOUR heart’s sins to repent.

Freedom, forbidden kingdom, not unattainable but regrettable it often seems unobtainable by classes lower than Agent Orange, and his complete lack of courage, and anyone not Pence white, especially those with lack who also are black, forgetting not those who also have skin the color of anything besides DMV taupe.
Taupe walls, my skin crawls,
Hang a picture of the Orange Clown and a pretty flower or bird—Word! That helped a lot.
Fuck your freedom, America, I’m gonna tear it all down.

Let’s begin again—
The circle of life? Begins with
absence and desire,
Or gratitude and the Godly pinnacle spire?
I am grateful for LIFE,
my sweet heartbreaking strife,
chords of luck and grief,
Harmonizing love on the strings of my soul,
and the voice of my heart.
Riding home my L Line,
I See the Signs, but my job is
To be, not
Not to be, as that’s where I was—
Just Cause, Bad Women and Men, Perverted
Mrs. and Santa Claus!
Ready to shed this World’s
Sounds of Silence
with these Mama bear claws.
Murder, she wrote! Who?
The Diamond balancing-scales-of-justice Lady,
The “real” slim shady?
Complementary Cadence—
Music to Murder By.

She was dragged to the Ball
with the promise of free food,
She didn’t mind how rude,
Cuz food is super good.
After the buffet line she slipped down the stairs and fell, and there she sat
in her half wet towel and crazy shave ‘do
Soul Repercussion for being crushed by an evil woman’s own shoe, heels or soles something
she herself isn’t allowed to do.
But when in Rome is her philosophy,
So there she sat, a thorn in your sides,
Nowhere to hide,
Cuz she’s up your motherfucking ass..
Who?
Cinderella Lady...
With all the prerequisite sanity.

The great brain rain
Premonitory pain, reasoning
emotional climb to the spiritual line between myself and Paradisio,
the prescribed supernal promontorial
Shine.
No longer have I my
born pretty face, yet here
I stand with this human race, this
sick and sad egotistical craze,
Not just a phase,
When rape and murder are commonplace
lifted above justice—in Trump/Pence Regime, no room for the work of the righteous.
The scales of justice are broken by
Alternative Facts, also known as lies, complete
fabrication of logical truth.
I had to be mostly dead to see it,
No Miracle Max to bring me back up,
had to turn to God to save myself,
This atheist knocked off the shelf,
Surprise! She’s an angel mermaid elf.
Scarface Lady, created by abusive
people, only my welcome to this race
was not a cute dance by our Baby Groot,
But rather integrity’s lack, awful Life’s
Square Root—
Instead of “Hey you with the pretty face” and genius brain...
Take this blunt force trauma and cold
water boarding and be the vessel
of all our shame, guilt, and pain.

Anger, silent bubbling rage,
Like the pink goo under Ghostbuster
Stage. Mine isn’t pink tho, it’s hot lava
RED and it is only by the grace of God
And Supernatural
I don’t want this world dead.
Not just a phase, as staying sane
in your world is a daily Hellish race—
Stop trying to save face
When you can’t keep up with MY pace.
I am fire, here I go again, burning
from my very heart and soul, alone
not so alone, in this hollowed shell
Where once that lit existence
had hope to happily dwell.
The vistage of past lives, the naive vein
and cost of forgetting memories of pain.
The detox method, from the chemicals
of prescription benzodiazepines and nerve numbing opiates
Leaves only legal alcohol, tobacco, caffeine and television programming...
Fair reporting, dead in the 80s,
Rollerball media aimed now at the crazies,
Allowing excuses for the median level lazies.
This Divine Maiden Dean, avidly capable of being savagely mean, every day a journey to making amends, the hurt my own pain caused I now mend by speaking Truth!
Yeah, I’m apologetic for the shit I did
in my youth, clawing out of a hole leftover from the emotional holocaust of my soul.
Sadly veined with bubbling rage like
the anciently powerful Vesuvius,
Pressure from deeply buried hatred, collected from all time, the nexus of God’s greatest
Vexation, Lady vixen diva dame, set loose to light the fuse of a long brewing war,
and I’m blowing up this ship to take my place on your Shore.
The new face of the American dime?
Nah, FDR can keep it cuz I learned it from him—true power is the ability and desire to affect positive growth and groundbreaking change,
Vis a vi, Being the best version of me
who in this place and time I am meant to be
constantly.
I don’t want to be alone in the Light
anymore.
The divine axiom is the blending of Darkness and of Light, at its very core.

Bridging the broken gap of my once
perfect nose,
and blooming fully into your Rose,
And like Jack, I See the People,
The black ones and white ones, and
the colors between, but also the blood:
its colors of red, blue, yellow, and green.
It don’t matter what color your skin is,
when greedy and cowardly blood runs
through the vein, no hope for freedom—for you—will remain.

Word of ElleSkell

Holistic Life Writer

Poetic Justice.